Faith

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I have felt desolate the last few days; my soul has screamed to the skies for solace. In the depths of emotional pain I’ve looked to the heavens for help. This is just the culmination of years of changes that have led me to question if I am strong enough in my faith to resist whatever it is that has been drawing my family away from the gospel path.

In the late 70’s my father passed away. He was not without his failings; however, he tried to do what was right in the end, and had turned to God, and had set his feet upon a path that would lead him through repentance and to the Savior. When he died, my step-mother remarried, and for a time continued to attend our church and even was active in leadership in the church. When her husband also passed away, she once again remarried, and this time walked away from all that she had professed to believe and cherish for so many years.

When she did so, I was devastated. I had looked up to her in so many things, nearly idolized her I suppose. When she fell off the pedestal I’d put her on, I learned a valuable lesson. As it is taught in the scriptures, “It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.” (Psalms 118:8). Although I still loved my step-mother very much, I felt she had let me down in a very personal way, and that she had made a lie of the religious life she had shared with my father.

Over the intervening years I had come to terms with these changes in our lives and the way we related to one another. Her new husband is a good man, and treats her like a queen; to all appearances she has a happier life now than she has ever had. We seem to have a tacit agreement to not discuss religion, especially in conversations about my father.

I had learned to continue in my own path; to search the scriptures, to try to pray with a greater depth of connection with my Heavenly Father, to attend and be an active participant in my church. I had lost most of my anchors as far as people in my family who were believers were concerned; my father had died, my step-mother had turned away from our faith.

Through this time I had married, had a little girl, gotten divorced, and remarried. My daughter attended church with me and her step-father. When she was young, she went willingly. She expressed her deep feelings of belief in God, and in Christ, and in the gospel. As she grew older, she also grew rebellious. There were struggles; indeed, wars, waged between her and her step-father. Finally she turned her back on all she believed. She became Pagan, and began practicing magic. In spite of this, I love her beyond life. She is my best friend. I don’t let her know how much my heart bleeds, how many nights I spend in tears, how my spirit pleads to the Heavens for her to come back to the church. I must let her make her own choices, no matter how difficult it is.

In all these storms there was always one firm anchor, my sister. She and I had accepted the gospel of Christ in our lives at about the same time, though she was living in Illinois and I was in Oregon. Having a shared faith helped keep us together through some difficult times. Eventually, we hit a bump in the road that sent us in opposite directions, distancing us both physically and emotionally. I always felt though, since we shared our faith, things would work out.

Until three days ago. That is when the killing blow came, when I learned not from my sister, but from a mutual friend, that my sister had withdrawn her records from our church. I can’t say it was totally unexpected; but like at the death of a loved one when you know they have terminal cancer but don’t know when they will die, you keep hoping it won’t happen. Then when it does, it is devastating.

I never felt so alone in my life. There was no one left in my family who shared my faith; no one I could have a discussion with about spiritual things. I do of course have good friends, and can share these things with them; it’s not the same as having a sibling or a child or a parent to turn to. I grieved for them, for what they have turned their backs on. I grieved for myself, in my desolation and separation from my family. It was a difficult time. I found myself questioning whether faith in God was worth losing my family for. It didn’t make sense to me that such bitter separations should occur if the gospel were supposed to be so sweet.

I wanted my family. Oh, they were there, and we still talked, and still walked through the world together, but the closeness and the sweet communion of spirit were no longer there for us to share. I wondered if I would be strong enough to stay firm in my faith, or if I would end up following the path they had chosen. I wondered what would be the thing that drew me away from my Savior. For my step-mother, it was the desire to please her new husband, who didn’t share our faith. For my daughter, it was the need to rebel against an overly strict step-father; to prove she could get by just fine without adopting his beliefs. What it was for my sister I could only speculate. Would something come into my life that would draw me away? I was troubled by this perhaps more than anything.

There was only one place to turn for both the balm I needed for my wounded soul, and for the answer I needed to the question that was haunting me. As with Abraham Lincoln, I was sent to my knees because there was no where else to turn. I poured my heart out to my Father in prayer, pleading for His guidance.

A sweet assurance finally came into my heart. The sadness of loss was tempered by the whispering of the Spirit that taught me, that sometimes the people we are related to by blood aren’t necessarily our true families. Sometimes our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, will not be those we inherited through blood and birth; sometimes they will be those who we bond closely with in shared spiritual values and Christian beliefs. Sometimes we may need to wait a lifetime or more, for those we love to find their way back, and sometimes, we may need to just let them go.

I was led to read Psalms 34:22, “The Lord redeemed the soul of his servant: and none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate.” I trust my Savior. I trust that in His due time, if they will allow it, He will redeem my sister, my daughter, my step-mother, and we will be reunited in His love. In the meantime, I will have other sisters and brothers, other fathers and mothers, in the members of the church that surround me, as we unite and share in the spirit of the gospel that guides our lives. Through our shared faith I will find the strength to stay on the gospel path. “But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee.” (Psalms 5:11)

*all scriptural passages are taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version.

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