What I believe in

We are willing to fight for what we believe in. And a great tragedy — more often than not — is that we don’t stop to think about what we believe in, and thus we lose sight of what we’re fighting for. I wrote all these words not necessarily thinking that I was writing some serious statement of my faith (although it definitely plays a part). But rather, I wrote them down to remind myself of what I hold dear and what I want to be true about my life. I wrote them down so I would remember to fight for them.

I believe in words and I believe in stories. I believe that stories are all around us, the underlying thread in our lives. I believe that they point us to something greater than the here and now. That they carry holy echoes that were placed in us and in creation — calling us to recognize them, to feel them pulsating beneath the surface, to stop and wonder at the glory of it all.

I believe in em dashes and starting sentences with “And.” I believe in the use of repetition and run-on sentences.

I believe in always asking, “Why?” I believe in practicing curiosity every day.

I believe in photography, and the lens it offers for you to see the world. I believe in the never-ending attempt to capture moments at their fullest.

I believe in dinners that start at 7:30 (when they were supposed to start 7), but last until 10. I believe in long tables and family-style meals and candlesticks and always blueberry crisp with vanilla ice cream for dessert. I believe in welcoming people into your messy kitchen and putting them to work. I believe in friends that help you clear the empty plates and even wash all the dishes by hand when your dishwasher decides to break down an hour before dinner.

I believe in the friendships you are born with, and the friendships you build along the way. I believe in showing up faithfully and Amazon-ing surprise gifts to friends. I believe in intentionality and the simple power of writing down a note or two about what’s going on in a friend’s life. I believe He places the lonely in families. I have been that lonely person, but today I have a family of birth and family of friends. And I believe that I am invited to play a part in that good work of welcoming.

I believe in long walks, by yourself or with friends, because walking is the pace of life. It is not fast; it is slow. I believe I learn far more walking than I do on my bike or on a run.

I believe in engaging in the never-ending battle for stillness, and listening for the small voice in the silence. I believe in going to coffee shops by yourself, plugging in your headphones, pulling out your journal, and simply asking yourself, “How do you feel? Where do you seen God working?”

I believe in adventure — in visiting new places and revisiting familiar, second-home ones. I believe it unveils and exposes parts of yourself you’d forgotten, and teaches you what you could not have learned otherwise.

I believe in always maintaining the wonder, a childlike (not childish) approach to the world around you. I believe in fighting to remember and tend to the things that were truest about you as a child.

I believe in doing hard things. I believe I am constantly being formed, and my daily yeses and my nos are bricks being laid in the house of my life. I believe in always asking myself, “What do I want to be true about my life?”

I believe in music, and I believe it is the heartbeat of the soul. I believe in the joy and the comfort and the lament and the nostalgia it can somehow all hold. I believe that one of the sweetest sounds will be music in Heaven.

And I believe that this is not it — that this world (despite all its glorious sights and rich, belly-shaking-laughter moments) is but a shadowy reflection of the world to come. It is my hope, my anchor, that the best is yet to come.