The Faith Soliloquy

Faith is an inviting mystery.

It speaks to each of us in a language all its own. It’s a mish-mash of culture, education and experience that, inevitably, loses something in translation as we attempt to discuss our beliefs with another.

At the deepest level, we are attempting to express an intangible feeling.

Why I know is a challenge to explain.

How can I define my intuition for you? What words are forceful enough to describe the thrust generated by this drive? Can I begin to hope you hear the song emanating from deep within me?

What blares in my ears is faint to you.

This is why our convictions are so easily misunderstood. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said:

Belief consists in accepting the affirmations of the soul; Unbelief, in denying them.

Only one person is propelled by the instinctive pushes that help either of us navigate in the murky fog of life. Maybe we’ll choose to follow the path we’re shown or maybe we will second-guess it and head off in a different direction. The strength of those gut feelings is determined by what we have faith in, what we are sure is true.

To have faith is to mold an image of the future.

When confidence permeates a dream, it serves as a guide for inspired action–a kind of single-minded obsession bending time and space at will. Upcoming events are aligned according to expectation.

I can say, without a doubt in my mind, the days of my life–to and from today–are defined by my certainty and my own movements to prove myself right. My belief, regardless of how grand or small, will demand my effort carries it out. Whatever I have faith in, after a string of steps, is what I will see.

My future is a reflection of the believing action I take.

The life I am living today is the result of my choices and the consistency of my labor in the past. As I stretch my legs in new frontiers, I hold on to the knowledge my future is brighter than my history, more amazing than the limits of my current creativity.

I see the books I’ve published and the people they’ve helped, the doors opened where there used to be walls. I see a house, a wife, children–a life. I see something just outrageous enough it can be believed, because it’s the only way it can be seen.

The idea–and my assurance of it–is the whip at my back and compass in my hand.

It pushes me through fatigue.

It shapes my fear.

It accepts my failure.

It sharpens my focus.

It is my faith.


The Fatigue Soliloquy

The Fear Soliloquy

The Failure Soliloquy

The Focus Soliloquy


You Must Be Crazy

The Value of an Ideal

Believing In Possibility


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