Without clouds...

When I was in college, I knew a guy whose 2nd favorite song was "Without Clouds". The refrain went (something like):

"Without clouds, the rain can't wash the land,
without rain, the grass can't hide the sand,
without grass, the flower's bloom won't grow,
without pain, the joy in life won't show."

I read a lot, some sci-fi, some historical fiction, some other stuff. Almost always when I read about a person (either historical or fictional) who does something courageous, the point is made that fear is a part of courage. If the hero wasn't afraid, then what he did wasn't really courageous, was it?

In these examples the presence of the negative enhances, or adds a second positive quality to, the positive.

Last night - as I listened to a sermon about ancient Israel's king David, before he was king & when he was fleeing for his life from the current king, Saul - I began to muse on the nature of faith. I thought about how depression and doubts are frequently expressed by people who are called faithful. And it occured to me that doubt might have the same relationship to faith that fear has to courage...that clouds have to flowers. That is, rain (or water, anyway) is essential to the production of flowers. Fear is an integral part of courage. Is doubt an essential, integral part of faith?

Put another way: If I never have any doubts, is it because my faith is so strong? Or is it because what I have is a dogma that I have been taught to accept without thinking & not really faith at all - but a conditioned response?

James says (something like) ...count it all joy when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience... . If my faith is never tested by various trials does it merely mean that my patience is under-developed? Or does it mean that I don't really have faith?!

. . .

One of my favorite stories is about an old country preacher whose hallmark was thankfulness. He was thankful to God in every situation. One Sunday morning in February it was bitter cold. The roads were all but impassible. The water pipes in the church building had frozen and burst. A window had been broken and snow had blown into the sanctuary. And the heater was old, tired, and not even close to being up to the task of warming the building. The faithful few wryly commented to each other on the way into the service that the preacher could not possibly have anything to be thankful about today. He proved them wrong, though, with his opening prayer: "Dear God, we thank You that it is not always like it is today...". Maybe my next post will be a little lighter. I can't always be like I am today.