Container Faith

I like to think of faith this way.

Imagine I somehow get locked in a big shipping container some evening. I have no watch. It is very dark inside. I decide I will wait until morning to begin banging on the walls. I sit peacefully and patiently.

The container begins to warm up. I feel the warmth of the air. I touch the walls and discover they are heating up. Now, I can’t see the sunrise, but I know the sun is up. I bang on the walls until I am rescued. Someone opens the door and I finally see the sun that I KNEW was there, even when I didn’t see it. I had evidence of things not seen.

Faith is like an energy that works directly on the spirit, bypassing the flesh. We cannot describe it and no one would understand us anyway, for these things are spiritually discerned. In our weakness, we describe it as a burning, swelling, tasting, light, a voice and with other descriptors. None of those terms are adequate. But it is as real as the warmth of the Container.

Somebody who had never experienced warmth would not understand my container story. They wouldn’t understand how I knew it was morning. I would not be able to explain it to them.

Anybody who felt warmth would know exactly what I was talking about in my story. That is because we would have a common vocabulary with terms defined by experience.