...and Steve, that is why TRUE Light, Life and Love weaved together witness a triple cord's strength against the lies and deception of the world, the flesh and the Devil. (Ecclesiastes 4:12)
Such an insightful post. You articulate this truth powerfully and convincingly. I have attempted to make similar arguments with people I love, people who understandably seek release from and answers for their pain… but without the gift of faith how does one trust a cross?
What a piercing question you ask — without the gift of faith, the Cross appears only as folly, or at best, as a noble but tragic gesture. Its power is hidden precisely because it cannot be grasped by sight or strength, only received by a heart wounded into humility. The message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, as St. Paul writes.
Faith, then, is not a conclusion we reach, but a gift we receive — often in the midst of our helplessness. It is born not from argument, but from a kind of interior death: the death of our insistence on understanding before trusting, controlling before surrendering. Without this death, the Cross remains unbearable, even cruel. But with it, the Cross becomes the doorway to a Love that does not explain suffering, but transfigures it from within.
To those still outside this mystery, we can only bear witness — patiently, tenderly — by living the Cross ourselves. By allowing it to carve into our lives the shape of a Love that does not force or dazzle, but endures. Only love can reveal the meaning of the Cross. Only love can awaken the trust that allows someone, one day, to say not “I understand” — but “I believe.”
Faith is a seed God plants, often imperceptibly, often in broken ground. Our task is not to force it open but to tend the soil with our fidelity, our mercy, our willingness to stay near those we love even when they cannot yet see. In the end, it is not argument but companionship that prepares the heart to receive the unbearable beauty of the Cross.
...and Steve, that is why TRUE Light, Life and Love weaved together witness a triple cord's strength against the lies and deception of the world, the flesh and the Devil. (Ecclesiastes 4:12)
Amen!
Such an insightful post. You articulate this truth powerfully and convincingly. I have attempted to make similar arguments with people I love, people who understandably seek release from and answers for their pain… but without the gift of faith how does one trust a cross?
What a piercing question you ask — without the gift of faith, the Cross appears only as folly, or at best, as a noble but tragic gesture. Its power is hidden precisely because it cannot be grasped by sight or strength, only received by a heart wounded into humility. The message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, as St. Paul writes.
Faith, then, is not a conclusion we reach, but a gift we receive — often in the midst of our helplessness. It is born not from argument, but from a kind of interior death: the death of our insistence on understanding before trusting, controlling before surrendering. Without this death, the Cross remains unbearable, even cruel. But with it, the Cross becomes the doorway to a Love that does not explain suffering, but transfigures it from within.
To those still outside this mystery, we can only bear witness — patiently, tenderly — by living the Cross ourselves. By allowing it to carve into our lives the shape of a Love that does not force or dazzle, but endures. Only love can reveal the meaning of the Cross. Only love can awaken the trust that allows someone, one day, to say not “I understand” — but “I believe.”
Faith is a seed God plants, often imperceptibly, often in broken ground. Our task is not to force it open but to tend the soil with our fidelity, our mercy, our willingness to stay near those we love even when they cannot yet see. In the end, it is not argument but companionship that prepares the heart to receive the unbearable beauty of the Cross.