Faith vs. ____

It’s Time to Say the F-word

It really feels like you’re not supposed to say it, and gosh-dang-it, it’s only three weeks into 2024.

It happens every single year like clockwork. I’m passionately assembling master plans, envisioning colossal accomplishments, and ready to grind away at my craft.

Then, the defecation hits the ventilation.

Every. Single. Time.

I’m smashing the snooze on my alarm clock, rolling over to catch a few more minutes, and by mid-afternoon, I’m hitting a mental wall. I’m sluggish in my workouts, and I’m skipping meditation sessions. Journaling…another story. My upbeat heart is down for the count. 

So, I’ll say it out loud for all the world to hear. 

I’m in a funk. 

Consistency is difficult, and even harder when the elements aren’t in your favor. Sailing may be incredibly relaxing in sunny weather, but it will be incredibly difficult (and dangerous) in bitter storms. 

Of course, we all wish we could control the weather — and life circumstances — but all we can control is our response to the storm. 

Sometimes, that means just riding out the storm. Sometimes, it means doing something creative to escape the rising waves. 

I’m not sure why, but I was put at ease by reading this descriptor of the origin of the word “funk,” which was described in this graphic as a (to me, hilarious) combination of tobacco/smoke and disturbance/agitation. 

“Disturbance and agitation” is exactly what I feel when I’m in a funk. What I pray is that the funk is like tobacco smoke — it stinks at first, but it’ll float away eventually. Sure, that scent and grunge are in your clothes for days, but a good shower and your washing machine will fix the problem. 

In the worst of my funk, I realize how much I need a deep soul-washing. 

Something that soaks the coverings of my inner being and washes away the stink, the grime, the sludge.

I often search for the soul-washing in the greatest of stories, in the ones where the darkness seems to have all but overcome our heroes. I see myself there, feeling that disturbance and agitation along with the fallen heroes.

One of my favorite moments is found in the words of the Hobbit Samwise Gamgee to his dear friend Frodo, who has just exclaimed that he can’t do it anymore.

When he’s at his darkest and most agitated and despairing, Samwise is here to encourage us all: 

It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness, and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. 

When I can’t do it anymore, I have to pause and remember the shadow is but a passing thing. 

Ancient Truths

In many circumstances, my reaction to being in a funk is often to fight it, hustle, and work harder. I want to put as much effort as I can into solving the problem. That feeling, though – it can’t be solved with a motivational YouTube video, a bullet journal, or a five-minute meditation app.

In the earliest moments before the sun has risen, I’ll walk downstairs, and I open up an ancient book to read the most ancient of stories of darkness and shadows that were overcome. 

In one of my favorite stories, Jesus, in the midst of a huge storm that threatened to literally sink the boat he was in, did the exact opposite of work. When everyone else was disturbed and agitated, He was asleep in the storm. 

Eugene Peterson describes the scene in his interpretation:   

Late that day [Jesus] said to them, “Let’s go across to the other side.” They took him in the boat as he was. Other boats came along. A huge storm came up. Waves poured into the boat, threatening to sink it. And Jesus was in the stern, head on a pillow, sleeping! They roused him, saying, “Teacher, is it nothing to you that we’re going down?”

Awake now, he told the wind to pipe down and said to the sea, “Quiet! Settle down!” The wind ran out of breath; the sea became smooth as glass. Jesus reprimanded the disciples: “Why are you such cowards? Don’t you have any faith at all?”

They were in absolute awe, staggered. “Who is this, anyway?” they asked. “Wind and sea at his beck and call!”

My normal response to the funk is to fight it, then to panic when it threatens to sink me. Then I scream out to the heavens “is it nothing to you that I’m going down!?” 

But then the wind — it runs out of breath. The sea is smooth as glass. Like the wind, my running around attempting to fix the chaos and the mess, it heaves and slowly trickles to the ground like a dying balloon. 

In the darkest moments of funk when we are fully enveloped and disturbed, it’s the stories of hope and redemption that offer us a lifeline.

They remind us that no night is so dark that it can prevent the dawn.

In these stories, whether from the most sacred texts, classic literature, or personal experiences – we find the strength to believe our current struggles are not the end of the story.

Let's embrace the final “f-word”: faith. 

It's not about blind optimism or naive denial of reality but a conscious choice to trust that there is more to our story than the current chapter of funk. It's about washing our souls in the waters of faith, allowing it to cleanse us of despair and refresh us with hope.

And in doing so, we find that the funk — well, it eventually dissipates, leaving us clearer, stronger, and more resilient than ever before.

Thanks for reading,

---

Big thank you to

Miche Priest

for her tremendous editing help on this one!