I am a mountain

"...faith is not a fire as much as it's a glow; 

a quiet, lovely burning
underneath the snow --

...faith is not a fire as much as it's a glow - 

a steady humble lamp light in the window...
I heard that faith moves mountains.
I know it moves my feet
to follow you.
And maybe I'm a mountain, 

because it's moving me to follow you...

And my faith is not a fire as much as it's a glow,
a little burning ember in my weary soul.
And it's not too much, it's just enough to give me hope.
Because your love moves slow,

yeah, your love moves slow." 

~ from Audrey Assad's song, Slow

* * * * * 

I don't know how old I was when I received my first children's bible, but chances were, I was no more than three or four. As the daughter of not only a pastor, but a Christian bookstore owner, I was never lacking in bibles, Christian literature, Christian music, Christian cartoons, the whole works. And I'm grateful for much of this heritage, for the beautiful trail it laid for my feet and the foundation it set in my heart. But at some point, when I finally hit the wall of questioning my faith and eyes that needed to learn how to see fresh what had become so familiar, it's been hard not to feel that there's anywhere to go but backwards from here. 

I grew up with the notion of daily "quiet times" or devotions, what evangelical Christians refer to as intentional (often structured) time of sitting down to read the bible and pray, often at the beginning of the day. I remember as maybe a ten year old, the excitement of owning my own bible organized so that I could read it daily, the whole bible in one year.  I started off in January with a youthful bang.  Somewhere around February - or Leviticus (whichever came first) - I began to miss days here and there, until April or May rolled around and I was drowning in bible reading to catch up on.  The feeling of failure and discouragement laid heavy on my shoulders, as every day, I felt I was never enough. I was never going to catch up.

Maybe this is the first memory I have of feeling I'd miserably failed God.

Still, somehow I stuck with reading the bible every day, or nearly so, even if it wasn't the entire bible in one year, and continued this way up until my late twenties.  I knew nothing, really, aside from my inability to keep up with the whole readings as a child, except this overall experience that reading the bible came naturally. I found it challenging to relate to anyone who didn't find it easy to read the bible. 

And the truth is, for the last six or so years, I've had the hardest time sitting myself down and reading the bible for more than five minutes at a time. When I do, I'm a ship lost at sea, bobbing in the waves, not sure where north or south is, east or west. At times, I'll catch a glimpse of the sun peeking through the clouds, note its position in the sky, and the light will reorient my eyes to a sense of direction. But this is not every day or even every week. 

Still, I do my best to keep at it.

And I move through too many days with that heaviness threatening its weight across my heart, that I'm not enough, that I'm slipping backwards, as I watch and hear of all these others doing bible studies and digging in deep and writing devotional blog posts; these ones who are living, eating and breathing the word of God; and I quietly turn and walk away. I fight a sense of guilt that I hear his word carried on the wind and in bird songs on my walks, in my breaths and echoes of heartbeats pounding my ears as I'm swimming across the lake, but not so much in the pages of the bible.  I see the word of God acted out on a daily basis in the theater of life and creation, coming alive before my eyes in ways I never imagined. I hear barbed messages whispered throughout the days - You are not passionate enough! Not devoted enough! Not spiritual enough! Not convicted enough! And I know when I listen to them, I duck my head, subconsciously retreating from the one who is not the source of these accusations, and slowly losing sight.

But I'm no longer able to go through the motions. I love the word of God. I believe the word of God. I have grown to know Jesus in a deeper way through the word of God. But I've come to a place where the word of God is written not only in these sacred pages, but even more, this profound mystery etched upon my heart. A place where, without even reading the bible, I know it; it's in me. I read his words scrawled across the pages of the world outside my door and in the very place where I live, in human beings and in all of God's creatures. This place where I tread with some amount of trepidation and uncertainty, but also, with a breath of refreshment filling my lungs when I catch it on the breeze.

And I know, in those moments of great faith, that this different way of walking in my faith is not less than; it's an expansion, a gradual settling into be-ing. I used to think that faith was a fire and being referred to as "on fire for God," a Christian's great success. But now I know, as the words of Audrey Assad's song confess in startling beauty, that "faith is not a fire as much as it's a glow." It's not an overwhelming amount, but it's enough to get me home. To get you home. It's something closer than my skin, so that I sometimes scarcely recognize it's there. And those mountains that need moving by faith? I'm beginning to see that I am one of those mountains, moving, edging - and yes, at times, jumping - home toward Love. 

Linking these words with Unforced Rhythms.