Chucking faith prematurely

After a long while in thinking and planning and getting up the nerve, I finally had the meeting I wanted with a certain young man. We met at a restaurant, and on the way over I prayed for the last time with my husband, who assured me once more that my motives were good, my goal was godly, and that the Holy Spirit would give me utterance.

Then the meeting went about as badly as you could imagine. My words fell flat, my lunch guest took offense, and he walked out of the Asian fusion eatery. At first I thought he had gone to the men’s room to cool off. Finally I asked the waitress, “Did you see where my lunch date went.” She said, “Yes, he already left.” And sure enough, when I went outside to check, the space where he had parked was empty. He had also paid the bill, with tip.

On the way home I phoned my husband and gave him my bad report. Then we talked about it later that night. In the morning I was still playing taps for my grand plan and groaning about how I had failed. That’s when my husband made the following suggestion: What if one of the reasons we don’t see more wonders of God than we do is because we jettison faith too soon? What if I was actually doing fine all the way up to the point where the young man took off? What if I did not fail? What if my motives were fine, my goal was fine, the Holy Spirit was in the booth where we shared sushi, and my words, blunt instruments though they were, were vehicles the Spirit could use?

What if the only place I didn’t do well was in the aftermath? What if God was waiting all along to see if I would keep on holding onto faith and believing all things (1 Corinthians 13:7) even after I seemed to have failed and all seemed lost? What if it was a test for me as much as a divine appointment for the young man? What if we Christians tend to sabotage our own miracles by chucking faith prematurely rather than playing through?

I have often been struck by the passages in the New Testament that exhort us to faith. The focus is always on “believing,” not on “having believed.” There is never a statute of limitation on faith. It is not as if I can complain with any justification to God: “Hey, what was that back there? At the restaurant? How come you didn’t show up?” For if I talk that way to God (or even think that way in my heart) I am blowing my cover and proving my faith a flimsy shell all along.

My husband’s words have made a difference. I will not fall into this demonic trap. I will believe, against the evidence of the eye, that whether in 24 hours or in 24 years, what was said in that restaurant will bear fruit for life.