Unfinished Faith

Unfinished. That seems to be the word of the week. I can hardly keep up with myself. As I sit here this morning, I'm staring at a To Do List, not of things new, but of things unfinished. Unfinished books. Unfinished blogs. Unfinished sewing projects. Unfinished dishes in the sink. Unfinished house chores. Unfinished accounts needing to be balanced so I know how much money we don't have. Unfinished filing. Unfinished emails in the draft folder. Unfinished beds that I started changing that haven't been made. For goodness sake, I am even staring at an unfinished cup of coffee! Everything I seemed to have started over the last few days, still remains "unfinished." So, as I even try to finish the To Do List, I have to wonder about my faith. Is it, also, incomplete? Unfinished? As I began my quiet time this morning, this was the question I asked The Lord. I think I may have even whispered under my breath, "If so, Lord, help my unbelief!" At least that was a biblical prayer, and one that seemed to bless Jesus as he observed the differences between the Pharisee and the Sinner in the temple.

I don't want anything left unfinished. I hate loose ends. I struggle when things are left hanging. So, having a tendency toward OCD, as in don't-leave-your-drinking-glass-sitting-around-empty-not-even-for-one-second-or-I'll-put-it-in-the-dishwasher-OCD, I want to know NOW what I can do to "fix" an unfinished faith. Again, I took that question to The Lord. Believe it or not, I think he responded, though not exactly as I expected.

Here was his answer from a man whose faith was truly "unfinished" at the time Jesus ascended into heaven:

Simon Peter...to those who have obtained a faith with equal standing as ours by the righteousness of God our Savior, Jesus Christ...(2 Peter 1:1)

Do you see his answer? It came in seven words "a faith with equal standing as ours." Equal standing? Having the same value? The same honor? When balanced on a set of scales, my faith measures the same as those who walked with Jesus? Can't be! Peter may have started out with an unfinished faith, but by the time he wrote this letter, he was close to his martyrdom, and he knew it. His was, by this time, a faith that was strong and sure. His was a faith that chose to die on a cross upside down because he wasn't worthy of dying the same way his Savior died. Maybe it's my Episcopalian upbringing, but somehow thinking I have faith that stands equal to this feels a bit like heresy. We're talking Saint Peter here!  Then I remember...Scripture calls me a saint! Yep, Saint Peg!  This girl, right here.

I wish I had a copy of the picture God gave me as I was working in my garden earlier (trying to finish the weeding I had begun). On one of my rose bushes was a gorgeous red rose. Open. Full. Begging to be picked and brought into my house to grace the table in a vase (albeit, a  cheap vase...totally undeserving of this breathtaking beauty). Next to it was a bud. Tightly closed. About to burst open like it's sister, but not quite ready. Unfinished.  However, I know what's going to happen. It's going to rain a little later today. Then the sun is going to come out. After I spent the time weeding, I used a little Miracle Grow. That combination is going to finish the process of blooming. Tomorrow I'll probably have another red rose to grace my table. I can already predict; I see the finished product!  In. My mind, it is finished!

That's exactly how The Lord sees my faith. In his eyes, it is finished. He already anticipates the blossoming of my faith. He already sees me gracing his table in the banquet hall. I stand in him complete in faith. Peter and I, we are standing level because of the cross; and, The Lord is already saying to me (about my faith), "Rest assured, it was finished at Calvary by the righteousness of God..."

So until I've fully blossomed, and sit in a vase of pure crystal on my Lord's table, I just do what rose buds do: abide in the soil, soak up the nutrients, live under the care of my Father. In due time, I will see what he sees...the faith-finished.