There’s something I’ve recently been coming to admire. That something is faith, not only religiously, but from an outlook on life in general. How comfortable and easy must it be to collapse after a rough day or a friendless night on your faith– perhaps in God’s unwavering and complete love, or on the faith that your significant other truly means as well for you as you them. Even when we’ve done everything wrong too, there’s a measure of hope. And hope is a thing with feathers.
Even people that drink or smoke, steal or harm other people can have faith. Certainly the sin detracts from the divine (and not necessarily God), but I consider that reassurance. These sinners in the hands of an otherwise angry God, have enough faith to at least keep with the faith, whatever the faith may be to. No one with it seems to be compelled to say I’m no longer faithful. Truly this is partly in cowardice, but part of me still envies the faithful. I lost my faith a long time ago, and it has left something of a hole in me. How easy would life be if I could pass responsibility to something I trusted completely. That’s happiness worth fighting for. I’ve come to admire faith and those who have it. I yearn to be safe again.