Trusting the tradition

After spending last week on retreat with a group of people of faith, and after worship today, I am sorting through what it means to just trust the tradition and rely on the faith of others. Last week we shared communion around the dinner table. I closed my eyes and just listened as over and over, various voices said, "The body of Christ, given for you." "The bread of heaven." "The cup of salvation." "The blood of Christ, shed for you." As I recall the voices, I feel the presence of those loved ones passing the bread and cup, and offering Christ to each other. Do I dare say that I feel the presence of God? Maybe. Maybe not. But I feel something real, something strong... faith in God that I don't have... love for God that I don't have. I am steeped in a tradition that does not blow with my moods, or my doubt. It carries on. And maybe it carries me along with it. What a blessing to hear from my loved ones, "It's okay. I've been where you are. We'll believe for you. " I keep trying to sort out my beliefs as I experience life, and right now, what I have believed isn't matching my experience. But maybe that is okay for now because I have a rich tradition and people who love God and me.

Today in worship, we celebrated an anniversary of the church. As I listened to the bagpipe, the trumpet and the voices of faith, I thought. "We have a heritage that isn't threatened by my individual doubt. We have centuries of people struggling to understand God in light of the life they experience. We have centuries of people putting their struggles and their faith into words. Words of prayers, words of songs, words of affirmation." I will continue my faith struggle, but for now I am comforted that my struggle is within my tradition. And that tradition is stronger than I. For this I am grateful.