Saved by Faith 2


synchroblog

My friend Ed Cyzewski is a writer, and father, and a husband and a Christian. He’s had years of experience and study of both scripture, theology and humanity. I like Ed. He’s smart and compassionate and funny. Funny is always a plus.

Ed has written a book, A Christian Survival Guide: A Lifeline to Faith and Growth, and it’s all of the things Ed is: smart, compassionate, funny. And real. Because Christians struggle. We fall. We fall gloriously and in ugly ways. Every single day.

And yet, we pick ourselves up and we brush off the guilt and dirt and shame and we assume the walk of the convicted, the redeemed, the humbled and loved anyway. To celebrate his book release, Ed launched a synchroblog where writers share what saved our faith

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When I began college, carrying with me a pack of uncomfortable, confusing questions about a God I thought I knew, thought I had been bred into secret knowledge of which. What saved my faith was meeting the right people on the right day. I could just as easily looked for answers in the bottom of a beer bottle on on some filthy frat-house futon.

As the new and clueless mother of infants who cried and demanded things in a language I didn’t know, my faith was stretched like a breaking rubber band. I remember stretching out on the carpet of my bedroom while one or two wailed, praying for peace, and knowledge and creativity, and energy. I remember rising from that carpet, tears on my face and carpet impressions, too, walking with a supernatural calm to ease their discomfort, to fulfill their needs, to be the mom I had to be, wanted to be.

My faith was saved when I deeply wounded my most beloved and wore my guilt and shame and rot like a cozy sweater. When I could have crawled inside a nest of ache and lived, my faith was saved by his own mercy. When I learned that forgiveness could happen, again and again, and that forgiveness, true forgiveness begins to heal the one who did the hurting.

My faith was saved on the days of my thickest depression. Faith was a tiny spot of warmth (and will be again, I’m sure) on my back when all around me is frozen and dead. When it felt all for naught and the towel was about to be tossed, and the phone rings like a lifeline, and the prayer reaches my ears like a raft, I am saved. Again.

My faith was saved when I testified in court against someone who threatened me, and I saw both criminal and human, and I saw there but for grace…

 


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