I believe in a story. That’s right a story. A story I’m sure you have heard before. Can you guess what tale I’m referring to? No not the one about the three pigs and that oversized lunged wolf, or the top heavy egg head. This story reaches back even further in our childhood. I believe in the story of a man who accomplished much, but was hated by many, loved by more, and known by all. Figured it out yet? This man suffered undeserving pain, died willingly and rose three days later. That’s right; I’m referring to the story of Jesus Christ.
Why do I believe this tale, you ask? That’s a fair question, deserving of an answer. My faith in this story gives me hope and peace that the “harsh reality of the world” has a saving grace. This story is full of countless miracles and unlikely events that make it hard to believe. One event includes the time when Jesus, a mere child, preached in front of hundreds of people. Jesus has been known for performed a number of far-fetched miracles; giving sight to the blind, restoring the lame, healing the sick. Are these events that far-fetched? It sounds to me like Jesus was an incredible healer. You’re right, I forgot to mention the whole water to wine miracle and the feeding of the thousands on a beggar’s salary. Oh, let’s not forget the coming back to life bit. Sure that might be a little hard to believe. That’s where faith comes in. You hate that answer don’t you? A copout I often hear it called. You cannot prove faith. If you could, it would no longer be called faith rather, fact. We can’t see the air around us and yet we know it to exist, even more so you can’t factually prove to me you love someone more than I. You may buy them gifts, spend quality time with them, fill them with words of affirmation, and yet so can I. However, deep down you know your love for them is real and mine, nothing but an act. In the same sense faith is that belief you cannot prove.
If I’m wrong, if my story is just that, another tall-tale, then so be it. At least I walked through life with a kind heart and a forgiving spirit trying to impact those around me in a positive way. But what if I’m right? What if this crazy idea that a man could love so much, have no flaws, died and came alive again, be true? I would hate to be on the other end. From what I know, for those that do not believe in this tale, life after you death is no fun. But that’s another story.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.