To say, "I faith," or "I joy," has no meaning. "I have faith" or "I am faithful" are complete sentences, but the verb, the action, the experiece is no longer the virtue itself, but rather a state of being, which is not a direct action at all. The direct action of faith is, "I believe." Faith may be one way that we describe how or why we believe, but "I believe" is a complete expereience, in and of itself, and is the direct experience that connects us with God.
There is a scene from The Matrix, where Neo is meeting the oracle for the first time, and she asks him if he believes that he's "the one." Neo isn't sure, and so she says to him, "Being the one is like being in love. No one can tell you that you're in love, you just know it, through and through. . . .balls to bones." I love this line, because it's just so true.
So, I love. . . .and I believe.
Descartes believed that the core essence of who we are, the most basic truth that defines our existence was Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. But what makes this statement powerful for me in this moment is not the emphasis on how our thoughts define who we are, but rather on how it is a direct action, a complete experience that defines our existence.
I think, therefore I am. I love, therefore I am. I believe, therefore I am. I feel, therefore I am.
As I laid in bed thinking about this, I asked myself what the direct experience is for what I'm experiencing right now, this long, dark walk I seem to find myself upon. I feel separated from God. My spirit feels damp and soggy. I feel overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks, and I feel immobilized by the weight of the overwhelming feeling, but these words only describe my experience. What is the direct experience itself? What is the completeness of language for that direct connection to God that this experience opens up for me? And then it hit me. . . .
I grieve.
I may feel trapped and stuck here at the canyon by the lack of response from any of the Prescott employers, but the lack of jobs in Prescott is actually "forcing" me to stay put and deal with what I am experiencing. Sorting through all of this "stuff" is very much a spiritual process of grieving, because I can't "let go" of the stuff until I accept the truth of that part of my life, of my journey that has led me to this point in time and place where I sit at the edge of myself.
Yes, I sort. . . .and I purge. . . and so I grieve. This is the natural order of things. I'm not depressed. . . .I don't need anti-depressive medication. . . .I am in the process of grieving. I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. Of course I feel like my spirit is damp and soggy. And, of course I feel separated from God. . . .because I feel separated from myself. I am letting go of out-dated beliefs. . . .letting go of parts of my identity. . . . letting go of unfinished and incomplete pieces of my journey. . . .and it is the embracing of this truth that connects me with God.
So, I grieve. . . .therefore I am. . . .with God.