When I was in 9th grade, I asked my parents for a study Bible. I wanted something big, hefty, with annotations and a concordance: something I could explore and mark up. I received the Bible as an Easter gift in 2000 (this is easy to remember because my folks wrote it in under “date presented” on the inside cover).
To protect my new Bible, I got a zippered book jacket. It was a massive thing, with three or four pockets where I collected church bulletins and memory verse cards. Embroidered on the cover was a fierce eagle and a reference, Isaiah 40:31. In this way, I found and chose my life’s first epigraph: “but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.” It’s a verse full of power. Even now, remembering these words fills me with the jitteriness of unspent energy. It is the kind of verse that inspires a teenager who feels like he might be hitting his first real stride as a Christian. In this verse, God shows up as a spiritual Energizer Bunny who will help you keep going and going against all odds.
I think it’s fairly common for people to find epigraphs for their lives, perhaps a song lyric or a bit of poetry, a famous quotation, or a Bible verse. They become mantras for us, something to repeat to ourselves as we work through the successes, frustrations, and flat out failures of our lives. Who hasn’t, at some point, repeated, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, partial) over and over to remind ourselves that even this (whether it be good or bad) can’t last forever? And every graduation we think deeply on the plans the Lord has for us, “plans to prosper [us] and not to harm [us], plans to give [us] hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). The first year of marriage is a good time to remember that “these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13), especially as we have to get used to being “we” instead of “me.”
I have never had much trouble with understanding hope or love. That’s just me. For whatever reason, these two come quite naturally to me. I am, however, endlessly intrigued by faith and what it means to have faith or to be of faith. I wonder whether love might be the “greatest” but faith what bears spiritual fruit.
For what it’s worth, I don’t exactly equate “faith” and “belief.” I clearly remember moments in my life where I chose to believe in God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and my own salvation. Faith, I think, is that drive to trust that God will do what he promises—“to prosper you and not to harm you,” for example. Faith is a stronger, more fearsome kind of trust.
I do not now live under the banner that I “will soar on wings like eagles.” That’s a verse for someone who needs to feel the power, breadth, and sheer force of God. When I was in high school, I definitely needed that. And perhaps I will again; I am still a young man.
The most recurring epigraph of my life so far is Matthew 17:20. A man brought his son to Jesus because the disciples were unable to heal him. After Jesus rebuked the demon within the boy and healed him, the disciples asked Jesus why they couldn’t heal the boy themselves. After all, they had been given the authority to do so. “He replied, “Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
Have you seen a mustard seed? If you haven’t, visit your nearest grocery store and buy some stone ground mustard. That grit is mustard seeds.
Of course, this isn’t about some kind of spiritual magic trick where particularly devout Christians can rearrange terrain. As though Billy Graham might decide one day that the Rockies are poorly placed and do some continental redecorating. At first glance, though, this verse seems to be just as much about harnessing the power of the Lord as Isaiah 40:31. But I don’t think it is.
For me, this is a verse (an epigraph) of conviction. If I had real faith in the Lord, I imagine the mountains in my life shifting—no, jumping—aside. Not because I want them to, but because God wants them to. I had faith enough to act with and in Him. I’ve seen mountains move and I’ve flailed mightily against the Rock. Remember, “There is a time for everything,” even a time to realize how little faith we operate on.
Seriously, have you seen a mustard seed?
I agree with many of everything you are saying but have to question where you get your information.