yes, virginia, there is...

in 1897, a young girl living on manhattan's upper west side, asked her father a popular question for children her age: is there really a santa claus? her father encouraged her to write to new york city's prominent paper, the sun, to find her answer. the response was a famous one in which the writer answered "yes, virginia, there is a santa claus." this charming tale is one that lives on, centuries past it's time, finding its way into the heart of american folklore at christmastime.

now, since we're all adults here it's safe to say that this is a sweet little story that tells of childhood belief and the wonder of christmas. but i've been pondering this concept as of late, as i try to put into words the journey that i've been taken on in terms of my faith and my walk with the lord.

(no, i'm not at all comparing god to santa claus. jesus to st. nick. faith in the living, true god to a belief in a fat man in a red suit. that was just a way of getting your attention. read on, my friends... read on).

one of the most powerful things i've heard in my journey with jesus is this: faith and doubt are not mutually exclusive. you can have faith and have doubt. in fact, sometimes it's the doubt that sharpens our faith. if we're too afraid to doubt, then we won't ask ourselves the tough questions. if we don't risk delving further to our relationship with god, then we won't reap the rewards and blessings that come with the richness of struggle. of questioning. of doubt.

yes, i said doubt.

i won't pretend that my whole life i have always been one hundred percent convinced that there is a god who is intimately involved in every detail of my life whom i will meet again in heaven for all of eternity. there have been times in my thirty years of living that i have questioned this (i know, what a shocker). i've sat back, analyzed and wrestled with many things. things happening in my own life, events taking place in the lives of others... friends, family, clients i have counseled. it's a tough thing to deal with disaster, calamity and tragedy and try to figure out what role a loving god plays in all of these things.

especially when those things happen to you.

that is when faith is tested. when the rubber meets the road. when one questions "is there a god? is all of what i've grown up learning and hearing about really true?" or at least i did.

it's easy to believe in god when life is sunshine and butterflies. when things are going swimmingly. it's another thing to believe in his intimate innerworkings in every detail of your life when those details are the ones that bring you enormous amounts of pain. but this... this is when it becomes real. when faith and belief take root. where hope is born. and in my own life, this is where god has revealed himself to me more than ever. and i am more convinced than any other time in my life that god is who he says he is, and that he has the power to do as he has promised.

you see, i've spent much of my life living in fear of the "what ifs". as i've written about before, many of these anxiety-inducing scenarios revolved around one thing: losing someone i loved. the fear crippled me. it robbed me of so much joy. it drove a wedge into my relationship with the lord, and my ability to trust him with the things i held most precious to me. why? because i couldn't imagine a loving god who could possibly allow my greatest fears to come true. and they came true seven years ago when my father was diagnosed with a terminal disease... and they were realized a few minutes before midnight on the eve of thanksgiving this year when i lost him.

for years i wrestled so much with the concept of a loving god allowing his children to suffer. why doesn't he always heal our loved ones? why doesn't he always stop tragedy from striking? why doesn't he always allow our desires to be met, our dreams to be fulfilled, our life to go along as we planned or hoped? after much analyzing, wrestling and living my own nightmare of loss and grief... i've come to realize this: we live in a broken world. no one can deny that. even if you don't believe in god, you can't look around you without seeing a world full of chaos, evil and pain. it's obvious. this world is not perfect because it is not the end. it is not our home. we were made for something greater. an eternity spent with jesus. our hearts long for something better... and this earth--this life--is not it.

while god doesn't stop this world from being broken... while he hasn't healed it or redeemed it just yet... things happen. crappy things. things that leave us aching, tearful and desperate. but it doesn't stop there. jeremiah 29:11-13 was one of my dad's favorite scripture passages, and mine as well. in it's verses, god tells us "for i know the plans i have for you, declares the lord, plans to prosper you, not to harm you. plans to give you and HOPE and a future. then you will call upon me and come and pray to me and i will listen to you. you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

and you know what? i've experienced this. in the times my heart feels crushed with loneliness and sadness, i feel him there. i feel jesus holding me, whispering his words of peace and comfort, blanketing me with his tender mercy. i have felt bathed in his unfailing grace. i feel hope. in something greater than my circumstances. i can laugh and smile. i can find joy in the midst of my sorrow. and that, my friends, is why i know god is real. why i know more than ever that my jesus loves me, that he cares for me and that he comes to bring LIFE. life abundant.

as i was driving home tonight, the song we had playing during a slideshow at dad's memorial service came on the radio. previously fine, i suddenly melted into a puddle of tears. funny how that happens. tears from missing my dad. from the huge, gaping hole in my life that will never be filled again. from loss, from pain. but also from the beauty of these words (you can listen here):

"there's a peace i've come to know
though my heart and flesh may fail
there's an anchor for my soul
i can say 'it is well'

jesus has overcome
and the grave is overwhelmed
the victory is won
he is risen from the dead

and i will rise when he calls my name
no more sorrow, no more pain
i will rise on eagle's wings
before my god, fall on my knees
and rise, i will rise

there's a day that's drawing near
when this darkness breaks to light
and the shadows disappear
and my faith shall be my eyes

jesus has overcome
and the grave is overwhelmed
the victory is won
he is risen from the dead

and i hear the voice of many angels sing
'worthy is the lamb'
and i hear the cry of every longing heart
'worthy is the lamb'

and i will rise."

this christmas was special, although it was very hard. i continually have to give myself permission to say that it's hard... i know i don't always have to be strong, although it's tempting to try to appear that way. so why was it special? because i was reminded anew of the *hope* of what's to come. the hope that was born in that stable so many years ago.

so this is where my doubt, my wrestling, my questions have lead me. it's not about god not stopping these horrible things from happening to us; it's about his love and grace that is displayed in the midst of the darkest seasons of our lives that convinces me of his existence and of his power. i am not only fully persuaded in the mere existence of god, but in his personal involvement and care in every detail of my life. he knows every tear that i cry. every pang of loneliness. every memory that generates feelings of loss and sadness. he knows it all. and holds me in his everlasting grasp.

"for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. so we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

(2 corinthians 4:17-18)