by Jenna Young

How do you believe in the impossible?

This is a question I’ve been asked by many who learn that I am a woman of faith. It often takes people by surprise. I’m known for being a learner, a skeptic, someone who brings a critical eye, a person who’s always asking questions and seeking proof. A friend once pointed out when I said I didn’t believe in ghosts that the existence of the God of the universe was a much bigger leap of faith, and she was absolutely right. And yet, I believe in a pregnant virgin, a dead man coming back to life, and in the miracle of creation itself.

Like Peter and John, part of the reason I believe is because I have seen. My conversion took place during Eucharistic Adoration, where I had a vision of Jesus standing before me. But I’ve seen him elsewhere since – in the vastness of the ocean from the shoreline, in the joy of holding a new baby, in the joy of new converts who simply can’t stop talking about the greatness of God.

Like Peter and John, I also believe in the impossible by the very grace of God. This paradox – I believe in the impossible because he makes it possible – seems self-contradictory. Jesus tells us who he is in the scriptures, and all the Apostles heard Jesus tell them many times that he must die and rise from the dead. But faith is so much more than just learning. The Apostles knew, but they didn’t believe. Their hearts were closed to the idea that Jesus might leave them, and they were terrified by the prospect of what seemed to be the end.

Then: they saw. They understood. They believed. They saw with their own eyes, running to the tomb under their own power. They understood when the Holy Spirit opened their hearts and imaginations, transforming them from simple fishermen into men of wisdom, capable of seeing the fullness of God’s plan for salvation. Our efforts meet God’s grace and transform us from the inside out.

How do we believe in the impossible? Because we meet God – or rather, God bends low to meet us. We think of prayer and seeking as action on our part, but it is better described as a reaction – a response to a God who has been reaching out to us from the moment he first imagined us.

If faith made more sense, I’d trust it much less. If God gave me what I deserved, I would think him a creature of my own making. It is his impossibility that makes him believable – I could never, in 14 billion years, come up with the idea of a God of unconditional love, whose grace extends to someone who once hated him. He is a God who makes the impossible possible, whose love doesn’t wait for me or my perfection. I see, I understand, and I believe. I leap into the arms of impossible love.

Jenna is a contributor to Ora, where you can read reflections for the weekend Mass readings. Go to oraministry.ca to read more.