Living with my two boys is always interesting. They are as different as night and day, but that is usually a good thing. My oldest was born with fight in him; charming, loud, a whirling dervish of commotion. My youngest has fire in him too, but it is more internal as evident by the unfortunate streak of stubborn from my side of the family. He is goofy, funny and thinks before he acts (usually). They are diametrically opposed on many things, with me trying to counterbalance the middle ground to keep them from killing each other. Good times.
So it wasn’t a surprise that faith has stepped up to the plate in our balancing act. My youngest is sold out for God, involved in Fellowship for Christian Athletes, serving in a soup kitchen downtown with his small group and developing a little less selfishness in that teenage heart of his. He still argues with me about taking out the trash and rolls his eyes at me, so he is not up for sainthood quite yet. The older one has had a hard road these past few years and is really struggling with the idea of God being a loving father. My firstborn has heart as well, one I suspect is a bit tender and bruised, but it is easier to be angry than hurt at this age. He told me he prayed for change in his life for a long time with no answers, so God can’t exist. I understand the feeling as I have struggled with that as well.
He is going to have to wrestle with God on this one (as I have). I wish I had all the answers for him but I don’t. All I have is faith that gets me out of bed each day and looks for the good, even on the days it seems to be hiding from me. I think belief is so personal and I am not going to force the issue. That never seems to work, now does it? But I do hope that both my boys sow the seeds of belief that will carry them through the hard times that life brings. And as with all things, this struggle will even itself out and something else will come along to play my two ends against the middle.