As a teenager, I pictured my faith like a china doll on a shelf. I had a pretty spirituality, something to both enjoy and show off. It was helpful and brought me feelings of peace. I was proud of my faith, and perfecting it (which seemed like an attainable goal at the time) was my aim.
In our hearts, we want the genuinely strong stuff that can withstand all the weathering and battering that life dishes out. We marvel at the tin and oak and glass of our grandparent’s generation. “Things just aren’t made the way they used to be,” we say. But when it comes to daily reality, we settle for furniture that looks strong enough to have survived years of cuts and scratches, but is just glued together with pressed wood and thin nails.
I used to pity the woman with the issue of blood. Twelve years of unresolved pain, draining her energy and health … More