I have a dear friend who says he does not believe in God or Christ. He is a thoughtful man, who “just can’t get there” as he says. He respects my belief, and I understand his doubts. Once we thoroughly discussed each of our reasoning, we called a truce.
I can never do justice to Luis’s sermons, but one Sunday, I thought of my friend when Luis was talking about God accepting someone going as far a one can go. I thought of my friend again this morning, as I sit watching the snow fall outside our window. It’s fun to be back in the South where the first day of a even a mild snow shuts down the city. Where isolated footprints or paw prints are soon erased by the freshly fallen snow.
In some ways the disappearing tracks remind me of my ability to prove to a doubting friend Christ’s existence. On this side of paradise, we will never see Christ’s face except darkly through the shadows or in the smile of children. We will never hear his voice except in silence. We will never feel his touch except for his faint touch of comfort during our most difficult time. He is our guide although it seems when we most need guidance he seems so far away. That is because he has gone on ahead, leaving only those faint footprints in the snow to guide us. What is so difficult to convey to my friend is that the relationship I have with Christ requires faith, and my faith is not something I can describe in words. It is a faith that knows he is with us, but in ways that are as unseen and subtle as a covered footprint in the snow.
Your friend, Webb