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124 pages, Paperback
First published August 5, 1991
Why then is this feeling and condition we call faith so absolutely special and unique? Clearly, it is because faith is a response, which not only presupposes the presence of the one to whom we respond, but witnesses to that presence as well. Faith is a responding movement not of the soul alone, but of the entire person with his whole being. Suddenly he hears something, suddenly he sees something, and surrenders himself to that movement. This is expressed in the language of Christianity by saying that faith comes from God, through His initiative, through His call. It is always a response to Him, a person's surrender to Him who gives Himself. As Pascal said so wonderfully: “God says to us: you would not be searching for me unless you had already found me.” And because faith is a response, a responding movement, it always remains a search, a thirst, a yearning.
This leaves me with only one answer to the question of all questions: Why do I believe? I believe because God gave me this faith and continually gives it. He gave it precisely as a gift, as a present, witnessed within me by that joy and that peace I sense, which are so absolutely unrelated to anything in this world and life. Oh! I do not always sense this. In fact, I rarely sense it--only occasionally, at those moments when the word God ceases to be simply a word and becomes an underground hot spring erupting a geyser of light, love, beauty, and life itself.
I do not so much arrive consciously, deductively, or rationally at faith in God, but rather I find faith within myself; I find it and I am filled with wonder, joy, and thanksgiving. I discover it as the mysterious yet so clearly perceptible presence of the One who is everything: peace, joy, tranquility, light. I can’t be the source of this presence, since I find none of that joy, peace, light, tranquility, either within me or in the world around me. Where then do they come from? And so I say the word which expresses all of this, names all of it, and which taken apart from this experience, from the witness of this presence, makes no sense whatsoever: I say the word “God.”