“In Jesus Christ is the truth” – at least according to a sign on a door I pass by daily on the way from work. That message is written in brown crayon on the deteriorating entryway wall. Its strokes seem impetuous, giving the idea of having been scrawled out in a moment of passion.
“Faith isn’t a good business for those who believe unconditionally,” I thought. But on the other hand, look how good it’s worked out for the neighbors. The owners turned their home into a ‘house-church’ and received money from the a Church. So now, instead of a hovel, they have a fixed up house of the lord there on the block.
One time when I passed by that same house with the sign someone tapped me on my shoulder. As I turned, I saw the smiling face of Alexis, a guy I had met 15 years earlier in a literature workshop – back then he was still interested in becoming an “important writer.”
Over the past 15 years I’ve run into him periodically. Every time our paths cross he’ll update me on his life, but to be honest — at the risk of sounding smug — he would seem more and more disoriented, floundering through life without finding his way.
Now though, I was in for a surprise. The house with the sign was his. He had converted to Christianity just over a year earlier.
He shared his new ideas with me, speaking with such passion that compared to his, my ideas — which I didn’t dare to share, due in part to the excitement and partly to my confusion — seemed lackluster and uninspired.
“Since I met the Lord my life is filled with meaning,” he preached.
He looked so confident, so peaceful and so sure that my skepticism, and the torment caused by my constant questioning of everything, made me again ask myself some very important questions.
But, well, it’s not easy to trust after you’ve turned into someone suspicious of everything.