Imagine it Better

Some people have the gift of imagination, and they usually know it. Others have the gift of faith, but many don’t know it. Here’s a good test: do you spend a lot of time worrying about or imagining things that have not happened yet? That’s the gift of faith turned inside-out. Clothes don’t look too good when worn that way, and neither does faith. In fact, it doesn’t look like faith at all but that’s exactly what it is.

The difference between imagination and faith? It’s much like movies. Most merely help you pass the time, but some actually move you – you are no longer the same person after having seen that movie. I think Chariots of Fire was one of those changing movies for me, a long time ago. I know It’s a Beautiful Life falls in that category for many people, particularly those of us who have longed for death. And that’s how it is with faith, whether the faith manifests as fear or hope – it changes us.

I know a young man who, as a small child, was absolutely fearless. All of life was one big adventure, waiting for him to explore it. But he has grown up in a fear-filled household and now he’s afraid to try anything new. It’s sad. The environment of fear has changed him, I'm hoping not permanently.

Here’s the funny thing: we have no more evidence that bad stuff will happen than we have for the hope that we will have good results. No, really, we don’t. It seems that way because we remember –in excruciating detail- every failure, every embarrassment, every injury we have ever suffered or witnessed. For some reason, remembering the good times doesn’t come as naturally.

At one point in my life, I decided to be rational about this. Today, the very idea of being rational about faith/fear seems pretty funny, but hey, it worked for me at the time. Whenever I would begin to become overwhelmed by worry (that’s the socially-acceptable name for fear), I would draw a line down a sheet of paper. On one side I would write down all the bad stuff that could happen regarding the situation at hand. Then I would write down all the good stuff that could happen. I would force myself to keep writing until I filled the "good" side. Inevitably I would stall after the first couple of lines but, if I pressed on, the list on the good side would grow and grow. It became much easier for me to take risks when I could see all of the potential benefits.

As a young child I promised myself that once I was an adult, I would never live in fear again. It took about twenty years after reaching adulthood for me to begin to feel safe, even in my own home. And that fear bug still bites once in a while, but I don’t live there anymore.

Are you living in fear? Move out. We think that by worrying we keep ourselves safer but that’s a lie. The gift of faith was meant to be used for something much more glorious than the illusion of personal safety.