Confirmed Faith

Over the past few weeks, sometimes I'll find myself wondering what comes next. That's not to say that I'm wondering what calamity will come, because we've had many good things happen. Mainly, I find myself wondering where my life goes from here. After all, in my estimation I've just passed the biggest spiritual test of my life. So what comes next?

I can compare my situation with that of an Olympic athlete. If you're going to compare yourself to someone, why not choose something great, right? My point is this: an athlete at the Olympic level trains for much of their lifetime to compete at their physical peak. Once they compete (and hopefully win gold), I imagine many of them ask the same question that I ask of myself. They've seen how they can perform and they likely won't compete at that level ever again. I'm sure that they wonder whether their life will ever be that difficult again, because with perseverance through difficulty comes strength:

"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."

- Romans 5:3-4

I guess the question I'm asking of myself is "Will I ever know I am that strong again?". This is a different question from "Will I ever be that strong again?". It is a question of knowing, of confirmation.

While we cared for Roscoe in the hospital, I honestly didn't know how I'd react if he didn't make it. I hoped that I'd react with deeper faith, trust, and acceptance, but I didn't really know until it happened. I heard from several people "I don't know what I'd do if I were in your situation" and honestly I didn't know what I'd do in my situation either, until it actually happened. Now I know, and my hopes have been confirmed.

I hope I don't sound like I am boasting (Jeremiah 9:24, 1 Corinthians 1:31, 2 Corinthians 10:17) by talking about my own character. Rather, I'm wondering whether I'll ever really know again how deep my faith is. I will hope, but I won't really know until it's tested. Unless I go through a test like Roscoe's story again, how will I really know?

Like an Olympic athlete, I yearn for confirmation. I imagine that after competing in the games, an athlete probably doesn't miss the physical strain or regimented nutrition and schedule that got them there. But they likely do miss the confirmation. They miss knowing how good they really were when confronted with equal-caliber athletes in a high-stakes competition.

I won't miss the stress of rushing from work to the hospital, or the fear of getting an unexpected call from the doctor, or the uncertainty of knowing what health problem will pop up next. But I will miss the confirmation. I will miss the knowing how I would perform under stressful circumstances with an uncertain outcome. I will miss the confirmation of my faith. Until it happens again, I will train and hope.

"Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way, as not without aim; I box in such a way, as not beating the air; but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified."

- 1 Corinthians 9:24-27