That deep emotional conviction of the presence of a superior reasoning power, which is revealed in the incomprehensible universe, forms my idea of God.
Jen and I went to church today and I was immediately transported thirty-odd years back into my youth. Sitting in South Lake Steven's Covenant Church in a stuffy v-neck sweater and polyester slacks with the heavy weight of my Dad's hand on my the small of my neck reminding me that church was not a place to fuss. The strong scent of Old Spice permeated the air as I restlessly swung my short legs from the hard pews. I detested the children's talk when I had to go sit in front of the congregation and nod my head like I understood what in the world the pastor was talking about; protest was futile and I endured knowing it always signaled the time that I would soon be able to escape to the refuge of Sunday School to play Bingo and steal a cookie or two from the kitchen along the way.
I have spent more hours than I am proud of arguing validity of divine belief with my poor Mother but had a bit of an epiphany today as Jen and I walked away from Saint Paul's Methodist Church into the warm El Paso sun. Arguing faith is a waist of precious time and that I am man of great faith.
I have faith that drivers will give us a few feet and maybe slow down a little when they approach us from behind. I have faith that more folks we meet along the way will be kind than hostile to a couple of dirty pedaling travelers from the Northwest. I have faith that Jenny and I will reach the East Coast in a few months and feel better about this country than when we left our home in the Northwest last July.
Logic is not really on my side, to saddle a bike with my lovely wife and try to ride across this great country of roads where the car is king really defies quite a bit of common sense. This is not lost on me, and all I can say is that sometimes you just have to have a little faith.