inherited belief

surprise faye poem i was never gonna release but here we are-if i needed to write it, maybe someone needs to hear it

they ask me when i found God

and i never know how to answer.

because i don't have a before.

i don't remember
being introduced to Him
like a stranger
walking through the front door.

He was already there,
sitting at the kitchen table,
in bedtime prayers,
in christmas mornings,
in whispered "amens"
before i even knew
what i was agreeing to.

i learned His name
the same way i learned
that fire burned
and the sky was blue.

nobody ever asked me
to prove either.

and now-

now i’m a teenager
holding the whole universe
by its frayed strings
asking the question
i should have asked years ago.

how do i know?

not know like
i know my mother's voice.

not know like
i know the smell of rain.

not know because
this is what i've always been told.

i mean know.

how do i know
i'm not just fluent
in the language
i was born into?

because if i'd been born
in another country,
another family,
another religion-

would i still be reaching
for Jesus?

or would i be just as convinced
of someone else's name?

and that thought
makes me feel sick.

because i don't want
to believe something
just because it was handed to me.

i want it to be true.

those are not
the same thing.

i envy converts
sometimes.

not because their road
was easier.

Of course not.

but because somewhere
along the way
they had to stop
and choose.

they have reasons
they can point to.

they can tell you
where the road bent.

mine has always
gone straight.

or maybe
i've just never looked
over the edge.

and lately,
everyone around me
keeps making certainty look so loud.

they wave flags
higher than crosses.

they confuse
a political party
for the kingdom of heaven.

they shout
until faith sounds
like a campaign speech.

and i keep thinking-

if this is what being certain
looks like,

i don't want certainty.

because certainty
shouldn't need
to scream.

it shouldn't need
to hate.

it shouldn't need
to make enemies
out of people
Jesus would've eaten with.

sometimes i wonder
if i'm questioning God

or if i'm just trying
to scrape everybody else's fingerprints
off of Him.

because somewhere
along the way

people started handing me
their version of Jesus

like He belonged to them.

and i couldn't tell anymore

where He ended

and they began.

so i keep pulling
the threads.

every one of them.

the politics.

the traditions.

the sermons.

the things i was silently told
never to ask.

the things i was told loudly
to accept.

and i hate it.

i hate every second of it.

because if i pull
the wrong thread,

what if the whole thing
comes apart?

what if there is
nothing underneath?

what if i've been praying
into an empty room
my entire life?

what if all the times
i thought You were there-

You weren't.

what if every comfort
was just my own voice
echoing back at me?

God,

that possibility
terrifies me
more than i know
how to admit.

because i don't want
to lose You.

i don't even know
if that's possible.

everyone tells me
that questioning
makes faith stronger.

that You aren't afraid
of hard questions.

that doubt
isn't the opposite
of faith.

maybe.

i hope they're right.

because i am asking
hard enough
for both of us.

and maybe-

maybe the reason
i'm so afraid
of losing You

is because somewhere,
underneath all this fear,

i still believe
there is Someone
to lose.

maybe that's faith.

or maybe
it's just habit.

i honestly
can't tell anymore.

so here i am.

with hands
that don't know
whether they're folded
out of devotion

or muscle memory.

still praying.

if that's what this is.

still listening.

if there's Someone
to hear.

and if You are-

if You really are-

You already knew
i would write this.

You already knew
i would ask.

You already knew
that i would someday
stand in the middle
of everything
i've ever believed

and whisper,

"please...

be real.

"