pillow talk.

I've been wondering how long my faith will last in the face of this graduate religious studies class I'm taking.

In fact, one of the great reliefs to me this term was walking into the class to discover that there was another James River person in the class. Going in, I knew that the type of academic discourse of the class was exactly the kind that could unsettle everything I've come to believe. So, when we started introducing ourselves, and the guy in front of me gave a very recognizable last name, I exhaled. Thank God. Not even just a random James River person, but someone who I could trust would bring a fair amount of strength in faith to the table. This guy would probably make it through the course faith in tact. So could I.

I've been surprised this term, to find that the class has not at all disturbed my faith (which is admittedly precarious at times). Until tonight.

In class, I'm surrounded by people who know so much more about the Christian and Jewish faiths than I might ever know. Sometimes, their knowledge is overwhelming to me. I listen to them speak, and I think, if these people wanted to decimate my faith, they could do it quickly. Who am I? Who am I to believe?

I'm similarly outmatched in strictly Christian circles. I have to admit, my peer group is a little intimidating at times. It's hard to talk openly of all that I'm experiencing and grappling with, when the people around me are so past that.

I'm surrounded by people who are strong Christians and have been apparently since the moment they were born (probably since conception--a friend told me this story about an Evangel prof who talks openly about how he speaks in tongues during sex with his wife (is that inappropriate for me to write about? because that's nothing compared to what you'll hear at Pillow Talk--a Christian sex conference so real you'll have to flash a marriage license to get in (#butanyway))).

The point is: I wish faith were easy for me. It seems so easy for other people. Like they believe because they always have. For them, God is obvious. The absence of Christ would be absurd. The Holy Spirit speaks succinctly.

I have to remind myself that we all make the decision. I remind myself that these beliefs are not any more ludicrous than others I've held. Yes, I could choose not to believe, but the absence of belief would in itself be a faith. Keep moving, Ash. Keep moving.

There's joy. It's hard, yes, but faith is not a downer. I don't do it because I have to. I do it because I want to. Because ultimately, I believe in God, and in atonement, and in the work of the Holy Spirit, even when my emotions grab hold. I don't remind my intellect. I remind that fickle, shallow part of my heart--the one that gets bruised easily, and scares at a whim, and invests too much in its own worth.

Sometimes, literally all I feel I can do is pray. And even then, I don't pray. I just sit, because prayer seems like too great an act of faith.

Have you ever just sat?