Faith is one of those funny things; it is so nebulous and unexplainable sometimes that it's overwhelming, sometimes so incredible and preposterous in light of what reality seems to demonstrate. I think faith is definitely a gift, but also sometimes a gullible naivete. I wonder why, when I look at the Bride, so gawdy, so fat and greedy and ugly, unmerciful and unjust, how I can continue to doggedly follow the carpenter from Nazareth? I am not sure most days.
This is not some pathetic cross-cultural shock of some sort, but in considering how to go forward, how to press on towards the goal, how to proclaim the Kingdom's coming, it begs the question: how does one follow the man of Galilee, the King and crucified One?
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