Sometimes, I’m agnostic

It’s usually early in the morning, when I first wake up. It’s that feeling that you just don’t want to face the day. And things of faith seem so distant, far, far away.

I don’t want to get up.
I’m not interested.
I doubt myself.
I doubt my belief.
I may even doubt God.

At that moment, it’s as if my entire existence is at stake.

Or maybe I’m just worn out from the struggle and the grind. The repetition, the clutter, the growing grass.

So early in the morning, I get agnostic sometimes. Or at least it seems that way to me.

There’s no bravado here, no Christian heroics. I want nothing to do with this world at all. Just let me be. Let me sleep it off. 

What is it really, that moment, stripped down to its essence? A fierce battle of spirit, mind, body, and soul?

An emptiness?

A deep hunger?

Still, I’m not a baby. I know better. I’ve been down that dismal road of disbelief. I won’t be fooled again.

And just by knowing, I can decide.

Take the good medicine, get that healthy pill.

Taste and see.

And even as I begin, I still feel far away, but I make the effort. I turn the wrench. I say the words since I know they are good.

I speak the ancient prophecy:

“I believe in your life, death, and resurrection. I believe you will come again.

Jesus, I trust in you.”

And by the time I’m finished with this mini creed, something has already changed. A diamond edge appears, razor thin, solid and true.

Those simple words preach to my soul. They feed the hunger inside. The prophecy wins the battle for me.

It clears the clutter, and makes way for the Lord.

And so, I can believe again. I can get out of bed, have my coffee, and face the day. 

It’s a spacious place. A lovely place.

The grace and glory of God.

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