I’ve spent the last few posts discussing faith, hope and love. I think I agree with St. Paul, that love is the greatest of the three. I also discussed some pretty heavy reasons why the other two are not to be trusted. Now, before you discount what I have to say as being narrow and one-dimensional, let me explain that there is still a piece missing that I haven’t covered.
I ran across an artist in the Blue Ridge Mountains, making metal sculptures for a living. He was talking about his process, how he begins at the forge, hammering on some metal, playing with it and experimenting. He said that when he begins a piece, he often can’t yet see how it will turn out. He said he just has faith that something good will come out on the other side. I have to admit, I’m not sure there is a better word for what he was feeling.
Was I too hasty? Did I discard faith to the trash heap before exploring all of its virtues? And if so, do I need to resurrect hope as well? What of the pioneers among us? They have no assurance, no reasonable expectations. When Columbus set out, or Leif Ericson, or Magellan, they had no reasonable expectation of success. There wasn’t even a table they could use to calculate their odds. They knew they were risking everything. On what?
What of the scientist who starts down a line of inquiry, knowing that he could spend a lifetime and uncover only that this was not a solution to the question he wanted to answer? What of the newlyweds facing a lifetime ahead? There is no guarantee. What of the author starting work on a novel not knowing if she has the skills needed to complete the work and not even knowing if it will be something anyone would want to read when she’s done? What of our Appalachian artist? Are they truly walking by faith? Are they guided by hope?
There is vast difference between what these people feel and what religion tells us. The artists, the explorers, the inventors, the pioneers: none of them are certain of the results. They are driven by an insatiable urge to discover, to learn, to experience. The answer is secondary. The journey is the goal.
When the artist begins his work, he doesn’t know what the end will be. He doesn’t know if he’ll have a masterpiece. He doesn’t know if he will find a buyer. What he does know is that how it comes out doesn’t matter. He knows that the act of creation itself is joy.
So, too, with the inventor. Failure is just another source of knowledge. Something will be discovered and the act of discovery is its own reason for being. For the explorer, the desire for adventure is greater than the fear of never returning. For the creators, the discoverers, the nurturers, the lovers and the dreamers, there are no guarantees. There is only the journey.
Imagine a religion that said, “We don’t know if we’re right, but we’re going to try it and see because it will be a great experience.” That would be a religion I could respect. I know there are some religious people out there who experience life exactly like that. But that thinking doesn’t fill churches or collection plates, so we rarely hear of it. It doesn’t calm the fear of stepping into the unknown, so it doesn’t appeal to the frightened or comfortable.
Religion’s faith says, “We know because we believe.” The artist’s faith says, “We don’t know, but the act of creation will be beautiful.” Religion’s hope says, “Just keep believing that it will work out.” The explorer’s hope says, “Failure is always an option. Let’s find out.”
Faith and hope in religion are all about fear and protection and control—about being certain about things no matter what is actually true. Faith and hope for the adventurer, the creator, the dreamer are about beauty and wonder and discovery, all powered by massive doses of love.
When I speak about my life, I no longer use the words faith or hope. I don’t want to pretend I know things that I really don’t. I don’t want to pretend things are going to be okay when they might not be. More importantly, I don’t want to mislead religious people who use those words into thinking that their meanings are good.
But, there are other kinds of faith and hope. The kinds that have wrenched themselves free from the clutches of religion and rebooted themselves through love, wonder and imagination–Faith and Hope 2.0. So, if you talk to me of faith or hope and you clearly mean that of the dreamers, creators and adventurers, then I understand and I wish for you that your journey will uncover all the truth and beauty and love your life can hold.