'Til the Storm Passes Over

Last night, we ended up in the basement while the tornado sirens sounded. My husband usually

prefers to watch the storm roll in and out, stubbornly ignoring the warning system. But last night, he found the whole experience boring and ended up downstairs with our daughter and me. We checked out the pantry in the basement and broke open a bag of milk chocolate Hershey’s chips. John opened the bag and poured some out for each of us. As we popped chocolate into our mouths and played with the dog, we talked. Somehow, we got on the subject of doubt.



Atheism and agnosticism.


John has faith. He believes in God, but he understands how some people just cannot believe in anything beyond what they can feel and touch. One of his friends has read and studied faith matters and philosophies and still says it’s not enough. On a rational level, there is not enough to go on, his friend says. And maybe he is right. We cannot know what lies on the other side. His friend takes it even further. Not only is it impossible to know if God is waiting on the other side, it is impossible to know if there is another side. Maybe this is it, his friend says.


Maybe there is only a time to live and a time to die - and nothing beyond that. I don’t believe that for a minute, but there are many who do. The three cherry trees that I bought a year ago, the ones that died after my husband planted them in our back yard, I don’t think they are experiencing another kind of existence anywhere else. Since they weren’t capable of conscious thought, I don’t suppose they cared one way or another.


Other created things are much the same. Living, dying. Some domesticated life. Most not. There is no evidence that these creatures will exist beyond this life.


But we are different. We have the ability to scam each other, love each other, teach one another, die for another, forgive another, take revenge on another, work together, tear each other apart, to bless and to curse.


We can rule over one another. And we can serve.


Even some of our illnesses set us apart. We can die from stress, suffer from mental illness, and find healing through the most extraordinary things. Like faith, hope, and love.


It is true that we know very little about what comes next. God acknowledges that in Sacred Scripture. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, what God has waiting for those who love him.


Love. Maybe that’s the key. The most important thing separating us from a cherry tree: We can love. And if we can choose to love, we can choose to hate. But the love and the hate are not an end in themselves. They points to the One who is Love. And the one who is hate.


Love points to an existence beyond this one.


We live in a society that does not feel compelled to believe in mysteries like these. We study everything, except what lies beyond. We throw our efforts into our careers and our children and our bank accounts. We attain degrees. We build houses. And we invest.


Many try to ignore the thing that we cannot research. They don’t think much about what happens after this world.


We cling to the brilliant ones who tell us we cannot know. Or worse, that there is nothing to know. But then a man like Pascal comes along and throws out the challenge to the brilliant ones. Being brilliant himself, he makes a wager:


Okay, so it’s a gamble. On a purely rational level, we cannot know, we cannot be certain. For the ones who do not have faith and cannot attain faith, for them, it is a toss of the coin. Maybe there is something more. Maybe there isn’t.


Either way, we’ll find out. Pascal believed the better bet was on the side of God’s existence. That gambler has everything to gain and nothing to lose. Betting that there is no God is foolish. This gambler has everything to lose and nothing to gain.

Agnosticism, says Pascal, is not an option. Death is inevitable. So place your bets.


It is an interesting application of probability theory.


Those of us who have a faith which shapes everything we do and every thought that passes through our minds – we have trouble understanding the thought processes of those who have no faith in God and eternity. How do we help them get from point A to point B. From no faith to at least some faith?


My husband tells me that the best answer to this is to have compassion for the one who cannot believe and to encourage him to try. Just try. Faith, no matter how small, leads to faith. Encourage them to say the word maybe. To drop the word impossible.


For we know that eternity is possible before we know that it is certain.


Or so my husband tells me. And when I respond that all creation speaks of the glory of God, he smiles and reminds me, "Yes, but knowing that is a gift of grace. Faith is a gift."


And if I remember this, I will be better equipped to share the faith with others. Faith is a gift.