FAITH IS THE COLOR OF THE WIND

A few days ago, as I was nursing a rather fierce attack of one of those "blah", desultory moments that usually follow a holiday sugar high, I received from a dear friend one of those "email forwards" that clutter our emails on a daily basis,  about a  complex, mind-boggling wonder- the solar system.  It consisted of frames of illustrations and pictures of our universe and beyond,  and as I started scrolling down to each frame, I felt my lethargy started to dissipate.  It showed the different planets and their comparative sizes from the smallest to the largest.  As it presented the other systems in our galaxy which were much larger in scale than our own,  it gave the viewer an idea of the enormity of the universe.   A Hubble telescope deep field infrared view of entire galaxies billions of light years away captured millions and millions of stars that, due to their distance, were hidden from the naked eye. 

Just looking at the simple illustrations of the vastness of God's creations made me shiver in the sheer realization of how insignificant we are in the  magnitude of the other handiworks of this Supreme Being.  But in his inifinite wisdom and love, he did not view our significance on the basis of size; rather, he placed us on a chosen plane a mere notch below the angels.  The Scriptures is succinct in its declaration of who we are in our Creator's eyes:  "What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?  For thou hast made him  a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour." (Ps. 8:4-5)  A speck of dust, a nano of nothingness we all are.  And yet, the Father of our Spirit, that Divine Being who rules the immensity of earth and space has made us heirs to the incalculable richess of his eternal realm forever and ever.

Considering his unfathomable love and what we stand to lose, how can we still deny him?  With all the solid manifestations of his existence and the glaring certainty set before us and  reflected at every turn, how can some of us still refute the truth that he is real? An apocryphal being that only resides in someone's overactive imagination is how the atheistic community regard him and the morass of its egregious confabulations reveal a detachment from what is sacred and divine.   As I seriously contemplated this paradox, I was reminded of the story shared to us by one of our ward missionaries.  He said that one of their would-be investigators asked him and his companion after they introduced themselves how they could believe the existence of a God they had not seen.  The missionary responded with his own question and said, "What is the color of the wind?"  The person of course answered that he did not know because he could not see it.  Again, the missionary asked him that since he could not see the wind, how did he know that it existed?  The would-be investigator responded that he knew because he could feel it.  The missionary used that analogy to explain his knowledge and bear his testimony of the existence of that Divine, Exalted Being who knows us personally and loves us unconditionally regardless of who we are and what we believe.

I look around me and pause in wonder at the sight of the handiwork of God an unbeliever is able to see with his physical eyes but sorely missed by his sightless spirit.  I marvel at the rose pink horizon as the morning sun makes its way to dispel the darkness of the departing night.   The white cottony clouds set against the backdrop of a shimmering blue sky is God's promise of a beautiful day.  The towering mountains of brown earth surrounding the teeming valley in the place I call home and the calm lakes and blue oceans that dot the earth's immense landscape reflect the power of the Mighty Being that gives them their strength.   The soft warbling of tiny birds hopping on the nearby trees adds to the presence of life around me and everything, from the boundless expanse of space overhead to the hushed whisper of the untouchable wind across my face,  are incontrovertible testaments to the work of the Master's hand.  In my mind's eye, I watch the fast-forward tableau of the cycle of the seasons, each crowned with a beauty all its own, an interplay of colors and nature's  wonders that can only come from the God of Creation.  I think of my beloved children, then my grandchildren, those little marvels of flesh and blood that seem to have suddenly sprouted from nowhere, then clutch at the nucleus of the heart with a ferocious strength  and never let go - and I think of God's kindness and tender mercies.  Most of all, I am a presence.  I breathe, I talk, I walk, I think,  I feel, I see, I create.  I am a living, thinking reality, a specimen of God's craftsmanship, a being fashioned unerringly by his caring,  loving hands.

I am the offspring of divinity, a royal heir to the glorious heritage that my Father in Heaven so graciously and generously bestows upon me.  He is my Lord and Master who has given me all that I possess in this life and whose kingdom in the most high has been promised to me on the condition of my obedience to his divine laws.  In his infinite mercy, he sent to earth his Only Begotten Son who offered the ultimate sacrifice and died in the agony of the cross to ensure that the way back to his eternal realm is open and mapped out for me anytime he calls me home.  He blessed me with the knowledge of his divine Lordship that with faith centered in him, I may have the opportunity to be joint-heirs to all that he has with his Son, my Lord and Savior,  Jesus Christ.  It is an unbroken, unchanging covenant with a prize that he will only withhold when I neglect to do my part.

Belief, knowledge, faith.  Belief in his goodness, knowledge of his existence, faith in him, that he was, that he is, that he will reign as the one true God forever and ever.  Acquiring faith in him is a marvelous gift, a blessing singular in its significance that every living soul must strive to earn.  It is described as the principle of action and power in all intelligent beings.  It is "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Heb.  11:11). Sometimes I will fall; some days I will be weak and many times I will succumb to the wiles of the adversary.  There may be dark days when I will grope for the redeeming power of light when I am down spiritually.  But during those times, may my repentant soul always strive to be lifted up by the hand  that bears the imprint of the nail, by the  One who suffered on the cross for my sins  that I may be rescued from the pain of eternal agony through his atoning sacrifice.  May his unfailing love be a shining beacon as I walk through earth's bleak nights and may my long wearisome journey be sustained by the comfort of the unseen wind - faith in all its vibrant hues visible only to him who believes.  For faith - resolute, strong, unwavering -  is the color of the wind.