My favorite passage in the Bible about faith is the entire chapter of Hebrews 11. The chapter defines faith, tells us why it is so important, and then gives examples of those who had a story of faith.
The definition is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen. The reason faith is so important is because it is impossible to please God without it. One must take the Lord on faith that their prayers get beyond the ceiling. It takes faith to put whatever is on your plate in the Lord’s hands. It takes faith to follow the conviction the Lord has laid on your heart whether it makes sense to you or not or whether or not you think you can pull it off.
The stories of faith cited in this chapter are all unique. Some conquered kingdoms, administered justice, gained what was promised them, shut the mouths of lions or quenched the fury of the flames, or escaped the edge of the sword. Most of these stories were matters of life and death. Stories of faith sometimes are such but they don’t have to be. A story of faith can be one that impacts every aspects of one’s life, but it doesn’t have to be. It can be a simple story where there is no matter of life and death and one’s world isn’t rocked to its core. It can be acting on a conviction on one’s heart to perform a simple gesture of kindness.
It could be calling on a neighbor to say hello and see how they’re doing. What you don’t know but God knows is the neighbor needed someone to chat with to help get their mind off their troubles. I can recall times when I’ve been on the receiving end when someone shows up just at the right time. I take it on faith the Lord provided that someone.
One time comes to mind after my pen pal passed away. She was my Great Aunt Annie, my Grandpa’s little sister. I don’t usually cry when someone I know passes away. I know that may sound strange to those who don’t live on the autism spectrum but probably doesn’t sound strange to those of you who do. Annie was an exception. My only guess is to why is because we shared a passion for writing. She was the tutor and I was her student. I missed her and I missed writing her. Fortunately, after Annie passed away, her daughter let me write her and we are still pen pals…figuratively speaking since we don’t write each other via the Post Office.
Just days after her passing, my boss came up to my desk and told me he heard that my Great Aunt had died. He had been told I was close to her. When I nodded yes, he said in a soft soothing tone, “Let’s take a walk.”
He was one of the best bosses I ever had. I don’t know how good he was at his job, but he was good to me. As we walked the long hallways of a government building in Washington, D.C., I did most of the talking. That’s another thing about many of us on the autism spectrum. Ask us about someone or something we have a passion for, you’ll receive a bountiful earful.
My boss mostly listened which is all I needed him to do. He didn’t do anything dramatic such as perform a death-defying life saving maneuver. He just walked with me and listened as I talked about Annie and me. It was a soothing balm to my grieving heart. I don’t know if my former boss of decades ago remembers the walk, but I will for as long as I live.