“I love to take long walks in the park—green parks. Doesn’t necessarily have to be parks: forests, mountains, canyons, waterfalls, any place that does it for my soul.

I also love to write. Writing does things to my soul— happy things. But that’s not news. You knew that already.”

She takes in a long breath followed by a silent sigh; inwardly wondering if now would be a good time to address the elephant in the room.

She decides to go for it. “Heck, might as well just get over and done with it.”

She: “I am afraid. I am afraid you might not like what you discover about me. Because I have said things…done things… And well, I know that people aren’t perfect either…we all have our flaws…but I am still afraid. I have certain quirks…things that might surprise you about me or even scare you.”

She pauses.

[Nervously meditating inwardly]

Oh my goodness, what am I saying? Why am I babbling hysterically? Compose yourself!

What if He thinks I am a lunatic…what if I tell Him and He doesn’t respond gently, or worse… He runs for the hills? What am I so afraid of?

“Fear is good. It is healthy to fear… But it is toxic to allow fear to take over.” She reassures herself inwardly.

“But still… It is too huge a risk to take. I do not think I can take anymore rejection.” She reaffirms to herself under her breath.

[Straightening up and picking up the conversation with more composure now.]

“Well, this is me. I am sorry. I have high walls. Get a hammer if you will, but I am not bringing them down. I hope you understand… This is how I protect myself…this is my coping mechanism. This is my safe space. This is how I know not to get hurt.”

She gets snarky now.

“I haven’t lived as long as Methuselah sure… but I am wise enough to know that vulnerability is messy business… Especially with somebody who doesn’t really understand the depth of where you are coming from.

You wouldn’t understand.

It is hard to trust. It requires too much faith; I am afraid I do not have that kind of faith.”

She gulps down her last glass of water.

“Besides, I have heard of a type of love that goes out like a firecracker but fizzles out just as fast. The other type is rare to find. You know— the type that truly sacrifices and if possible would even die for you.”

She looks outside the window next to her seat, observing the lights, then proceeds…

“The former kind frightens me. It begins on a high note then goes low.”

She turns back to Him and continues.

“Which I believe is normal. No? But then, I do not understand why most of them stay low. What happens to the fire? The enthusiasm The searching? The chasing? The wonder? The awe? The…”

Sudden screeching noises of vehicles from outside interrupts her mid-sentence.

“I don’t know… seems messy to me. Why bother?”

“You are awfully silent.” She remarks.

[Back to her inward thinking]

Maybe I am talking to much… Sure blown it now. He probably thinks I am a creep with severe emotional issues. Already handed myself the rope, I might as well just swing with it.

“Are you that way? The fire-cracker type?”

She stops to rethink the question. “What a dumb question to ask! What does it matter anyway?” She affirms herself.

[There is a long silence — not the awkward type]

Then He finally speaks.

His voice is gentle and firm while His eyes communicate warmly.

“Faith.” He begins.

“Must be free for it to be genuine.

Faith means to be free. It is to be able to stand up and leave everything behind… without looking back. To say a resounding yes!

Faith is freedom. It leaves room for fear, for trust, for free- will, for doubt. To have faith at all is to be vulnerable.

Faith is not cheap and it doesn’t take easy way outs. Sometimes it is foolish, other times it is sensible, most times it is daring. It stands on a ledge and beckons you to follow.

It is definitely not blind because it gives man a vision. It doesn’t grant a sure and safe path to follow: but the destination is guaranteed.

Faith confronts lives: lives that are being wasted or being spent without purpose or meaning.

It blows it’s air on the fizzling firecracker, and revives the dying fire.

It brings back the spark.

Faith cannot be lived genuinely if it is not tested.

One man only— I know. Who dared to put it to the test. Who dared to live by it’s code: no fear, no reservations, not stumbling even once.

Rarely will anyone test His faith to the point of death: even for a person who is good, or, “who has had no flaws.”

He smiles gently on that emphasis.

Yet! This Man did. Recklessly, scandalously, deeply— not for the best kind of men…but for the dregs.

Safe is no adventure. Safe shuts out faith. Safe stays in a box, or a casket, or a coffin. It is locked up in darkness, motionless, airless.

Yes, it also grows: but it grows cold. It becomes lifeless, lonely, detached, impenetrable, irredeemable. That is safe: high walls that are never brought down.

But faith: matures, blossoms through the fears, the doubts, the high walls, the trials, the leaps, the highs and the lows.

Genuine faith never stays low. It rises again.

It is never a destination. It is a journey. But you must be willing enough to take the first step!

Faith takes a leap before it is called faith.

To live, to love, to give, to have, to own, to work, to be: all takes faith.

You must be willing to come as you are: high walls and all.

To say yes! To the adventure that is faith.”

He suddenly stops speaking.

And asks, “So what do you say?”

She smiles warmly and says:

♣

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