FAITH: Is it a secret weapon?
If there was no faith there would be no living in this world. We couldn’t even eat hash with safety.
Josh Billings
In brooding upon my personal list of invaluable tools for life, faith has got to be very high, if not top of the list, as the all-purpose antidote to endless anxiety. American humourist Josh Billings may have died a hundred and thirty-three years ago, but times have not changed.
As we wend our way deeper into the twenty-first century, we’re beset with ever more events and happenings about which to worry. Endless turmoil in the Middle East. Chemical pollution poisoning sea and air. Children still suffering chronic malnutrition in Africa and South East Asia. Western countries riddled with obesity. Global warming pushing whole species of animals, birds, fish and insects into extinction. That’s the briefest of lists, in no particular order, merely a corner of the global ball park.
And of course there’s the individual level that’s given all of us a furrowed brow at some point in our lives. Who’s never felt a jot of concern about their health? Or their children’s or grandchildren’s? Or felt a sickening twinge when they read their bank statement? Our agitation can range in size and shape from wondering if we locked the back door as we set off on holiday, to all the anxieties hidden in that well-worn phrase, ‘Does my bum look big in this?’
In short, we can worry about anything, everything and everyone. Major events, minor events, trivial events. Worry knows no bounds and is as universal as hands and feet. Major events in the world, seemingly far outside our control, can wake us at three in the morning. Major events in our lives – sickness, death, unexpected tragedy – can throw us completely off balance. Even those that have not yet happened can cause endless anxiety. Anyone on the planet who’s never said the words, ‘I’m very worried about…’ should instantly be elevated to the status of a saint. Or possibly a teller of porkies.
A friend of mine used to say, ‘Now, if I had a magic wand…’ when faced with almost any disagreeable or uncertain situation. Personally have never found a magic wand, but faith seems to me the best antidote to worry that I can muster. On the days when I remember to apply faith on matters causing me unease, the day can be transformed.
But faith in what, I hear the cry? The atheistic or agnostic or non-believer immediately assumes that faith means belief in God. True, having faith is much easier, I will admit, if you do believe in God, however you choose to define your belief. Or at the very least have confidence in a loving and benevolent universe. My mother, after a series of heart attacks that left her very fearful, struggled to overcome her anxiety. ‘I do have faith in God, you know,’ she said, with a sigh. Then added, ‘Well, up to a point. Most of us, I reckon, can sympathise with her view. It is indeed the, ‘Up to a point’ bit that’s so tricky.
Some years ago, when my son took part in what is often called the, ‘Toughest foot race on earth,’ otherwise known as the Marathon des Sables, I naturally searched the website result pages every hour (No anxiety at all, you see) to find out how he was faring. When it came to the big ninety kilometre night run, I got to page twenty-two and began to panic, heart pounding, thinking, ‘Good lord, am sure he must have come in before this. Where is he? Wandering hopelessly somewhere in the desert?’ (As I say, absolutely not a soupçon of anxiety or worry!)
Finally, I had the wit simply to type his name and race number into the search box at the header. In a trice his name appeared at the top of page three and he’d come in sixteenth place. And as it ultimately turned out, overall, the fastest Brit in the race in that particular year. Ah well, another lesson learned. More faith was needed!
The essential part I’ve learned so far about faith, and indeed about developing it, is practise, practise and still more practise. When it comes down to it, everybody needs faith, whether you’re a believer, a non-believer or a, ‘I’m just not certain but am keeping my options open.’ We all use faith, although if you prefer you could use the word confidence, every moment we step outside our front doors, whatever our belief or philosophy might be. You have faith, as you look right and left and cross the street, that there isn’t a stray brick from a nearby roof top about to land on your head. (It could happen of course and very sadly occasionally does.) You have faith the pizza you’ve just bought will not poison you. (Indigestion, perhaps.) And you have faith the six o’clock train will get you home. (Eventually, if not absolutely on time, Network timetables notwithstanding.)
I can understand that faith and optimism in the face of trying circumstances can be irritating to some. Years past, at one of the grimmest moments in my life an oncologist said to me, ‘Frankly, I think your faith is so great it must have destroyed your reason!’ Nevertheless, it’s blindingly obvious that worry does nothing but rob us of energy and joy in living. If our worries should come to pass, if what we fear does indeed come upon us, fear being the mother and father of all worry, we will be able to deal with it much better if we haven’t already used up valuable energy in fretting about the possibilities of, ‘What might happen if…’
The unknown author who said,’ People gather bundles of sticks to build bridges they never cross,’ expressed it beautifully. Although it’s not easy, and it would be an unwise person who said it was, faith and optimism are more comfortable ways to live our lives. If we can’t resist gathering sticks, maybe it’s best to light a fire and keep warm. And eat our pizza with confidence!