On Blind Faith

Note: This is a post about faith and God. I welcome any comments and opinions, but I ask that you be respectful of my beliefs. And please know that I am not in any way commenting on you, your situation, your opposing faith, or lack thereof. This is only about me, what I have learned, and what I believe in the dark corners of my heart.

Also: Pregnancy is briefly mentioned throughout this post.

This is a post I have been wanting to write for some time, long before Skittle ever came to be, or I ever saw a heartbeat, over and over and over again. I have talked about it with Kelly over at Life is Good Today in some great length and it is something I have pondered for many months. Early on in the life of this little blog, I wrote about my struggle with my faith since my miscarriage. I was born and raised a Christian, but I was mad at God and I couldn’t make sense of my loss or anyone else’s. But in Kelly’s comments to my post, she mentioned blind faith, which really spoke to me. Now I realize that it (“it” being “blind faith”) is a bit of a redundant phrase, as all faith is essentially blind — that is, faith is believing in something that cannot be seen or touched, something that we don’t have solid proof of — but it made me see my faith, and faith in general, differently.

I realized that blind faith was exactly what I needed to have in order to get through this difficult period of infertility (and later, the scary first weeks of pregnancy) with any sort of grace or peace. It was my only hope. And it helped, I will say. Letting the control slip from my hands into Someone Else’s, and just working every damn day to believe that everything would work out, would be okay, was all part of some grand plan, gave me what I needed to make it from one day to the next. I will not lie: it has not always been easy. I still get angry at God sometimes, not only for me but for all of you, and I still don’t have all the answers. There have been days when I must have repeated my mantra of “blind faith, blind faith, blind faith” a thousand times because I needed the constant reminder. But it helped. Oh dear God, it helped. And in the end, I believe that’s the purpose of faith and prayer. It is not for God. God is God. He wants but does not need for us to believe in Him, worship Him, or go to Him in all things. Rather, faith is for us. It changes us. It lifts us up. And it makes life so much easier.

And in my hard work of learning to just let God be in charge, and trust that His plan is the best plan, I have come to learn so much about what it means to have blind faith. Because it is more than going to church, believing in God, praying for what you want and expecting you’ll get it. It is more than worship and praise. It is trusting fully, come what may. It’s accepting God’s will, and embracing it, even if you simultaneously despise it. It’s acknowledging the hateful and angry feelings you have towards God, and working through them. It’s knowing you will be okay and you are not alone, even if you don’t get what you want. It’s understanding that God knows best, even if you don’t like His reasons. It’s grasping that there is a purpose for your pain.

Blind faith does not require that we seek answers and try to understand God’s plan. In fact, I think it’s the exact opposite: not wanting or needing the answers at all. Just going forward with your eyes closed, leaping into the unknown. Basically, it boils down to trust. You can’t see where the road in front of you leads, if the trip will be easy or hard or long. But just trusting that, one way or another, God will lead you through it.

To me, this is what blind faith is. I know this now. I know this not because I am growing another baby, but because my faith has evolved significantly since losing Teddy Graham last year. All those times I was standing still — all those times I was waiting for my period, waiting for ovulation, waiting to be done with Provera, waiting, waiting, waiting — I had time to think about this. And yet practicing this sort of faith, letting it take over my head and heart at all times — well, I’m still working on that. I imagine I will be for the rest of my life.

Sorry for the rambling, friends. I don’t want to come off as preachy. I know this is a sensitive subject. I know so many people, especially in this community, find it impossible to believe in anything at all or really struggle as I have, or more. I hope I haven’t offended anyone. I don’t judge and I hope you won’t judge me. It’s just, without my faith and without working towards a greater understanding of what that means, I would have been lost over the last year. In fact, I would have lost it (as in, my mind). So while I’m so happy that some of you made it to the end of this post and have been supportive enough to listen to all my ramblings, this post is really for me. Because when I face another crisis (and there will be another one), I want to remember what I learned. I want every bit of it written down as a solid, tangible reminder that faith got me through once before. And it will do it again.

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12 thoughts on “On Blind Faith

  1. I truly appreciate your honesty and openness about your faith. I share similar views, have had similar struggles and find that some people can see the perspective, some can’t. We do what we can, but when we reveal our faith to others, as you have tonight, you never can know who’s soul it may touch. God bless!

  2. I like your post. After 2 miscarriages I was at a phase where you could say I can kill God right now. I was mad, and I can say hated the fact that despite being God, he couldn’t help me. I kept telling him you are a man, not a mother, how can you understand a mother’s pain.
    Over time I realize that there is just an illusion of control. I just thought I had control. We are so used to planning every decision, every event, that its hard to accept you have no control over birth and death.
    I don’t have any control on anything, and as you say its just blind faith that keeps me going. Someday, it will all be alright. I trust Him to do the right thing. He will only give me what I need, not what I want.
    Thank you for being so honest about your feelings.

  3. This was really good. I completely understand. I have been struggling with my faith lately. It’s stronger right this second than it has been since I started this journey, but I still struggle. Thanks for this reminder.

  4. Infertility tests the strongest woman’s faith. I myself am not a church go-er, but I believe in God and believe in His plan. One of the few things that kept me going was believing that some day everything we went through would make sense. In hindsight, the timing was perfect. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

  5. This is beautiful. I struggle with my faith. I don’t go to church regularly and I don’t fall under the typical Christian category, but I believe in God. I have a problem giving up control. But it’s funny that just when I think I have everything together something gets thrown into the mix to show me that I’m not in control. Thanks for writing, friend!

  6. I appreciate your honesty in this post and I think it’s wonderful that you have been able to find strength in your faith. I have my own faith, as well, a belief not that things will work out but rather a belief that I’ll make it through regardless. It isn’t a faith in God as yours is, as techincally I’m a nonbeliever, but I find it healing and supportive and helpful nonetheless. It’s an inner strength, in my opinion, and regardless of where you or I believe that strength comes from, having the reminder that it helped you make it through once before is a powerful thing.

  7. It’s hard being so hurt and angry at God but wanting to be closer to Him at the same time. It’s something I’ve struggled with more through infertility than in anything else in my life.

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