borrowed faith

The three of us were sitting in Pastor Eric’s office for our weekly internship meeting. These meetings are one of my favorite times of the week. We talk about the state of ministry on campus, we bring our concerns and prayers for our people, and we dissect our thoughts on whatever book we are reading together at the time. Eric usually poses a difficult question and the three of us interns usually sit in silence as we are forced to dig a little bit deeper into why we believe what we believe, or in this case if we really believe at all. In the midst of a discussion on the difference between the questions what do you believe? and how do you believe? Eric asks us, “What percentage of the time would you say you believe in God?” and “What percentage of the time would you say you believe God?”

The temptation to pretend I am the A+ Christian that my parents always hoped I be sneaks in. I ignore it this time – real is better.

“Not 100% of the time.”

I would be so bold as to say that I always believe that God exists. I simply can’t fathom any of this life without His existence, so there is no doubt in me there. But do I always believe God? Is He really always good? Did He really create me beautifully? Does He really have a purpose for me? Does He actually care about how I feel?

“Maybe 80%.”

This B- Christian thinks that that’s okay, though. In this grand dance of faith there has to be room for missed steps of doubt and fear and uncertainty. The dance isn’t ruined by a couple missed steps, right? There is space for my wandering and wondering 20%.

One of my favorite authors, Brene Brown, has this idea of borrowing courage. When we’re short on courage and in need of some to face whatever we’re facing, there’s a solution: we could either try to muster up the leftovers in ourselves or we could phone a friend. We can lean deeply onto someone else’s courage for us to cross the finish line. I think faith is the same way. When the well of my own faith runs dry in the middle of the drought, I don’t have to try to create more water. I can run to a friend whose well is full; I can borrow enough faith to get me through for now.

When I can’t find the words to pray, I can borrow prayers from a friend. When I’ve lost all hope, I know someone who collects hope like baseball cards. A friend of mine gives out wisdom like Halloween candy, except year round and you don’t have to dress up to get it, you just have to knock. When my joy is gone, there’s someone I can turn to who has mastered the art of praise in all circumstances.

The lovely thing about borrowing faith is that it means we don’t have to have it all figured out. We can show up with our incomplete puzzles and find a friend with a piece that fits. We can count on each other to provide that. We can be the borrower when we need to be and we can turn right around and be the lender to the next in this long line of us lost and needy people. It is the intent of return that distinguishes borrowing from just giving or just taking. That’s what makes this work – we give and we give and we give and we give because we have something and that’s more than someone else has. And then we take. We take because now we are the one without. We can only do this because we play both roles. We can only take so much because we give so much when we have something to give.

See, faith is kind of like a church potluck. Everyone brings something to share; everyone fills up with what they need. There’s always leftovers, so you don’t have to be shy with your giving or your taking. There’s plenty of dessert. You should try at least three because we all know that church ladies make the best dessert.

If you have plenty of faith or hope or joy or peace right now, please open up and lend it out. I guarantee there is someone in your circle who is lacking. If you are the empty one, stretch out your arms to those with abundance. Find faith in another. Borrow it for now; return the blessing later.