When I Realized Faith is a Muscle
The statement alone sounds strange — “faith is a muscle.” But as I reflected on where I saw God working in my life today, I realized that it is a conscious and effortful process.
I would say I like to exercise and keep decently fit, and I typically target certain muscle groups after doing cardio or I simply work on strengthening my core. Similar to how I target muscle groups in my body when working out I noticed that once I target conversation and interactions with God throughout the day, my faith unknowingly grows stronger. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly how this faith grows stronger, all I can say is that I noticed it in my ability to recall the moments of gratitude.
To put my very vague and wispy words into a tangible example: my mom and I picked up some nostalgic Japanese food from a place near my grandparents house to share with them for dinner tonight. My grandpa is a fairly new believer and follower of Christ, and while I acknowledged this internally I never really conversed or externally acted in ways that engaged his faith. But before we ate dinner — the food laid out in beautiful take-out box arrangements — my grandpa and I sat as the first ones ready to dig in. His chopsticks hovered above the steaming sukiyaki-don but, to my surprise, he looked over at me first and hesitantly bowed his head.
In my head, at that moment, I felt something shift and I laughed with slight discomfort as I realized yes, he was waiting on ME for prayer. My grandpa, who is always 10 steps ahead of everyone in almost any group outing and the one that was actually flossing his teeth because his food came out 10 minutes before mine on one fateful occasion at Mitsuwa (not an exaggeration on the time btw). He told me before the meal that he had read all my Medium posts and I was greatly appreciative (not thinking of exactly how many times I mentioned my faith). But as I sat and prayed over our meal, the words flowed as smoothly as I always hope to pray. I felt a deeply comforting and unforgettable love for all that the Spirit can do through my sprouting young lens in this world.
It’s amazing how feasibly I was able to grasp that moment as a God sighting. The me from two or three years ago would be incredulous at seeing such a small interaction as one of the greatest signs that God could ever give me as His love and support. I actually asked God, last night, to reveal to me in some way the path that I should be taking and how I should be pursuing my love for writing. Tonight, He gently reminded me why I should keep going. It’s never about how many people will view it and it’s always about where my words can take shape and take hold in another person. Maybe it’s the repetition of certain words I write or maybe it’s one singular line that strikes someone as being an anchor to hold on to.
My faith is evolving into the form of a person. I see it when it reprimands me for thinking or doing things that I know strain my mental well-being. I feel it when it embraces me in love for choosing the option that comes from discernment rather than convenience. I remember it when it gives me moments of meaning in my life and push me forward despite feeling complicit or stagnant. I even make time for it at night before bed to recap my day or just anytime I feel my thoughts turning towards negativity — I talk to the thing that always brings me back to where I’m supposed to be.
Faith used to be a distant cousin, sometimes I’d remember it and give it a call or see it at some large family reunion with a few polite waves and small talk. Over my college years, I’ve met people who love God and who take faith so seriously that I began to realize it’s significance as more than just this distant relative.
This is a “To Be Continued” series and will forever be that until my dying breath, but for whoever may need to read or see this — faith is a practice and crazily if you do talk to God as much as you internally talk to yourself, you’ll find this close companion much quicker than you would’ve ever expected.
