Introduction

It’s a struggle we all face: finding ourselves. Have you ever imagined life as one big mountain filled with peaks, valleys, switchbacks, beautiful and dangerous trails? I have. I see myself stretching one hand above the other feeling for the next crevice in the rock that will pull me ever closer to my destination. How I came to scale this cliff I’ll never know. My knees are bruised; my fingers bloody, sweat drips from my brow. I look up. The flat grassy top of the cliff is within reach and marks the end of this long and arduous climb. With elbows grinding into the dirt I hoist myself up.

Standing firm on solid ground once again, I pant a thank you to Jesus for helping me make it. As I brush the grit from my jeans my eyes fall upon yet another steep incline. Fluffy white clouds hide the snowy peaks far above and I’m denied the knowledge of just how far I have yet to climb.

“You’ve got to be kidding! Okay Lord, I think you’ve made this mountain just a bit too tall for my experience. I’ll never make it. I don’t know what you were thinking but I can’t do it.”

Of course, I can hear God chuckling down at me. I see Him leaning over in His great Throne and shaking a Fatherly finger. “Don’t you appreciate the gear I gave you to make the climb? Why don’t you use it?”

“Pffft. What gear? I see no gear. You should make these things a little clearer Lord. I’m not you, you know. I won’t see anything you give me unless I’m tripping over it. We both know that.”

With a final harrumph at the Lord and a shake of my head I dust off my hands. A rest will do me good. I know I can’t rest for too long though, after all, I have a mountain to climb. I do, however, pause to look over the edge of my latest triumph. Smoke billows up from somewhere far below where the site of that horrible accident claimed so many lives. I wonder if anyone else saw the Phoenix rising up from the ashes. I finally force myself to turn away and take a seat on the flat top of a nearby boulder to rest my weary bones.

Contemplation settles in. I retrace my steps, that is, my life. I can understand that something vital, something that has always slept deep down within me has finally awakened and it suddenly dawns on me that I never escaped that accident. There are many types of death. There is the ultimate death that claims our bodies, the death of love; the death of a loved one that takes a piece of us with it, the death of a limb, or the death of ideals and dreams, the death of youth. Each of these deaths has at one point or another led a person away from Christ, away from health, and even away from life itself.

Yet, there is one death that surpasses all of these. It sweeps down upon a person like lightning born fire. In its wake, in the smoldering ashes it leaves behind, rests the tiny spark of a new life. The lucky few who actually survive such a death to fan this spark into a flame have done so in only one way: through faith.

So I ask myself, what is faith? Jesus says that the faith of a mustard seed will move a mountain . Say what? How? I’ve got a mountain that desperately needs moved. If faith was so easy to grasp and to hold, why is it a central theme throughout the whole of God’s Word?

The truth is I believe God brings Faith to us all. But we must be wise enough to seek it out, brave enough to grasp it, and strong enough to hold onto it.

The Awakening


“Breathe!” I hear the officer screaming at my husband as if daring him to disobey. He’s already been pulled from the car and must be lying on the street somewhere. I’m surprisingly calm albeit exhausted. A lady places her hands around my neck.

“I’ve got c-spine on this one” she calls out into the thin air.

I know enough to hold still. I think I’m fine but I remember the first aid and CPR training I’ve had. Those classes teach that trauma victims will stagger about the scene of an accident thinking they are unharmed. In fact they are often seriously wounded. Realizing that I’m conscious enough to be of help I decide to stay put. Don’t close your eyes, I tell myself. Don’t close your eyes.

What happened I wonder? The dash board seems a little too close the way it’s jammed up against my knees. It’s the strangest feeling that begins to wash over me. At once I’m hearing and seeing all the people in the streets that are helping my family and at the same time I’m quiet and subdued.
I’m completely helpless except to try and remember what happened, what phenomenon brought on this series of events that ends with a rush of screams and sirens. There should be a theatre screen in front of me instead of this cracked windshield. Scene by scene my life begins to unfold.