for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you. (Matthew 17:20)
Quick Links: Starting With (Imperfect) Faith, A Living, Emerging Faith, Self-Reflecting and The Miracle
Starting With (Imperfect) Faith
Something I have always pondered since beginning my spiritual journey is the above passage. I have always wondered why, when I pray, external things sometimes don’t change.
I have literally prayed that a mountain would move. I closed my eyes, prayed, and then opened them. Nothing. But I noticed something quite telling: when I opened my eyes to the still-visible mountain range, I was not surprised.
That lack of surprise was an indictment: I did not have faith.
Like Christ said, I did not have faith as a mustard seed. As an addendum, many translation will say, “as small as a mustard seed.” But I prefer “as.” Something interesting that I was told a few years ago was that this parable lost its meaning to many Western folk because we don’t work in the fields anymore. What’s intriguing about a mustard seed is not its size — as this is the common interpretation of the passage — but the fact it has no cracks in it; it is a perfect seed. Our faith should be perfect and without cracks while also being powerful.
Anyhow, my realization that I did not have faith as a mustard seed provided some ground for me to work off of. I realized that a lot of the time when I am praying for an external thing to happen, I don’t really believe anything will change to begin with. So, I went down the path of trying to increase my faith.
“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
A Living, Emerging Faith
This was a while ago, but not really that far away chronologically in relation to where I stay seated now.
What is different now, though, is my mental and spiritual framework. I believe in emergence. What that means is that things are revealed to us as emerging from a previous layer. For example, if I can make sounds with my mouth, an alphabet which symbolizes those sounds may emerge. And from that, spelling can emerge; and from that the next and the next after.
This applies to the spiritual life. I have found that my faith has not journeyed me down the path of visions, nor of riches or fame, nor have I been able to use my prayer like a magic wand to enact change over everything around me.
But what’s been stable and consistent is the immense power my prayer has internally. I have been led through the path of seeking the virtues. I have seen anxiety and worry fall, hope and love increase, and an increase in self-knowledge. My life has improved drastically because of internal changes and interactions with Christ.
These ever-treasured spiritual gifts are impossible without Christ, and this I know from my own spiritual journey. Some of the transformations I have witnessed inside of my heart I know were not my doing, for years worth of prior force was not able to change anything; only through a handing over of my condition to Jesus Christ did I witness any change.
I have noticed that prayer works unbelievably well inside of my heart. That is where I see mountains have been moved, and I mean that genuinely. Mountains of passions have been bull-dozed by Christ, and for that I am ever grateful.
And that had me wonder something. My prayers did in fact lead to some external changes. I was not healing others, but I had noticed that certain people would be sent into my life at certain times. Specific bits of wisdom were belayed at critical times. Precise spiritual lessons that I would learn and internalize would then be confronted with a test within a day or so, and I was abundantly aware of that happening. That means the external world was being organized in some small way to nurture my spiritual growth — Christ was teaching me inside things through external things.
Perhaps this means that the first level of spiritual emergence is something like this: we are taught things about within from without. The world changes around us so that we may be inducted. I think what follows is that when we are inducted, we can then begin to induct the world; for as Christ says, a house divided cannot stand. And it goes without saying that we do not decide for ourselves when to become teachers.
If I was gifted miracle-working as a novice — as I still am — in my spiritual life, it is guaranteed that I would’ve fallen to pride. For miracle-working is so high on the totem pole of emergence that if I was gifted it while being so low, I would and will churn the pearls out into dust.
For myself, I must first learn that Christ is real. That the spiritual gifts are His and not mine. I am just the dumb ass that Christ rode into His triumphant entry on. These internalizations are not easy nor are they fully realized, at least not in my journey. It feels like I can grow in them forever.
And in my reflection, I would have fallen into pride if gifted miracle-working. And as I stand now, I would still fall into pride. I want this to be clear: these things I now know about myself. I find that sometimes I can surmise a reason but do not really know if it is true. This I know to be the case. I am grateful that my lessons have been internal.
This is how I think emergence fits into the picture. I say to myself: “You must first be taught so that you can teach; you must first be mastered so that you can be a master.” I mentioned earlier that a house divided cannot stand, and that teaching of Christ applies directly to myself. I am a house that is divided against myself, and I have to be united first.
Self-Reflecting and The Miracle
A good heuristic to test if I am united is to meditate upon these words of our Lord:
“If you love Me, keep My commandments.” (John 14:15)
Do I keep the commandments? Or did I miss the mark at least a little bit today? I have found in my reflections that it is always the latter; therefore, that means I do not love the Lord. My love is imperfect, and this showcases how high the bar is. That means I am not united nor am I ready to teach.
That doesn’t open up room for despair. That doesn’t mean I’m not learning to love the Lord more. It means I am imperfect and learning to rely on Him more everyday. I know my weakness in this regard, so why would I despair instead of seeking His help? My imperfection is abundant, and I will seek the Lord for help. I’m excited to learn and continue trying!
That’s why the lack of external miracles is miraculous. The first miracle is that the external world — subtly — gets organized to increase my faith in Christ. I can say for myself: He has an interest in my life, and I see His hand guiding things throughout my life. He meets me precisely at the low level of faith I am at so as to help me. Like a loving father, Jesus Christ reaches His hand out to me — in the same way as He did to St. Peter when he was sinking — so that I may grasp it in the lowly way I know how so that He can lift me up to heaven.
What an unbelievable gift to have a Lord this loving. Glory to Him!
And now I ask the reader: does this help you understand the spiritual life a little more? My hope is that by clarifying emergence I can quell some anxiety that may be encountered when we ask why we aren’t performing miracles.
I also hope that people can find relatability in seeing the Lord’s hand organize their life. I think it’s a common worry that we don’t see miracles confirm our prayers, but what if we are misdirecting our focus? What if our focus should be on the miracle of the world being subtly reorganized by Christ to bring us closer to Him through virtues and peace? Isn’t the miracle that He has such an interest in our lives that He provides us with lessons daily? I think so.
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