Believing

By Ann Marie Eckert

When I said that I would follow,
it was with an honest heart;
but I didn't fully understand the cost.
'Cause there are saints throughout the ages,
and there are those today
who show us what it really means
to carry the cross.
But that only fuels my devotion.
No matter what comes I will say:
Yes, I believe;
I believe with all that is in me.

Yes, I Believe, by Joel Lindsey/Tony Wood

This is a beautiful song and a strong expression of faith that gives me hope about the depth of people's commitment to their faith. Throughout my travels across the United States, I get the opportunity to meet people of great faith — people who commit themselves to building the Kingdom of God and who make many sacrifices to live a Christian life.

I like to think that I am a person of deep faith but today I found occasion to question myself and the depth of my faith. I just finished reading Night, Elie Wiesel's book of his Holocaust experience and his honest accounting of his loss of faith in the midst of that unbelievable horror. I tried to imagine myself in Auschwitz with Elie Wiesel and wondered how long I could cling to my faith when God would seem so distant. I think of the people across the world who continue to believe in God in the midst of unbelievable cruelty, poverty, and oppression and sometimes wonder how they do it.

Today I realize that my faith is grounded in the ease of my life. It is so easy to celebrate a God of love and beauty when my life is full of these things. The Holocaust victims were so cut off from anything that could have brought them hope or reminded them of the goodness of God. As I read the book, I felt as if I was entering into a black and grey world, and I realized how much my faith is grounded in light and color. If forced to live in such darkness, what would become of my belief?

I certainly don't wish to undermine my own faith or anyone else's. But I think it is important for me to both sing aloud "Yes, I Believe" while at the same time recognizing how much more I need to grow in my own faith. I am sure that I will never be tested as the victims of the Holocaust were, but I am sure there will be times when it will be harder for me to believe than it is now. It was a comfort to read, at the end of Night, Elie Wiesel's acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986 which began with words of gratitude, including this prayer:

Barukh atah Adonai . . . shehekhyanu vekiymanu behigianu lazman hazeh.
Blessed be Thou . . . for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for enabling us to reach this day.

Doubt, it turns out, isn't forever. Light and faith do follow Night.

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