For me, ‘Faith’ is better understood as a verb than as a noun. For me, it is a process not a destination. It is a process of searching and seeking; a process rooted in doubt not in surety. For me, ‘Faith’ involves not-being-sure of the ‘where’ AND yet, choosing to continue to go there. The great theologian Paul Tillich reminds me that doubt is not the opposite of ‘Faith’ – Doubt is inherent to ‘Faith.’
I have four intimate friends. I can’t prove their friendship. Yet, when I experience their friendship, I don’t have to prove it. When I do not experience their friendship directly no proof will do. If I attempted to put their friendship to the test, somehow, the test itself would diminish our friendship. So it is, when it comes to my ‘Faith’ that God is God and that
I have learned that the five so-called proofs for the existence of God will not prove to the unbeliever that God exists. One or more of the five proofs, at best, confirm one’s ‘Faith’ that God exists (or one or more might confirm one’s ‘Faith’).
As I reflect upon all of this, it seems to me that almost nothing that makes any real difference can be proved. For example, each time I hit a golf ball off a tee I prove to myself that gravity exists. If I am clever enough I can prove that the earth is round. If I am more than clever enough I can prove that radio waves exist. Last night we had a thunder storm and once again I could prove that light does, indeed, travel faster than sound as the lightning flashes were followed seconds later with the great thunder-sound.
Sitting here this morning, I cannot prove that life is better than death. I cannot prove that love is better than hate (although I believe – have ‘Faith’ – that it is). I cannot prove the ‘great’ in ‘greatness.’ I cannot prove the beauty of the beautiful (it does, indeed, lie in the eyes of the beholder). I cannot prove I truly have ‘free will’ – I do believe I have it, my ‘Faith’ tells me so.
Perhaps my most noble acts, my deepest love, my most complex thoughts are all just subtle versions of what happens when the doctor taps my knee with her little hammer and my foot jumps.
In the end, my ‘Faith’ cannot prove a damned thing – or a blessed thing for that matter. For me, this is the thing; this is why it is ‘Faith!’