Faith's a Tricky Thing

And canker sores are of the devil

Hello, Beloveds. Poet Jesus here. As. you know, this summer we’ve been reading poems from my holy ghostwriter Tania’s collection Second Sky. These poems respond to the Apostle Paul and his words, so naturally, they explore some challenging emotions and concepts.

In Lystra, which like many locations in the Bible is now in present-day Turkey, Paul did a wondrous thing, which made some folks think he was Hermes:

In Lystra there sat a man who was lame. He had been that way from birth and had never walked. He listened to Paul as he was speaking. Paul looked directly at him, saw that he had faith to be healed and called out, “Stand up on your feet!” At that, the man jumped up and began to walk.—Acts 14: 8-10

Close, but no cigar. We all know Paul had a Duck Dynasty-level beard. Image by Mirosław i Joanna Bucholc from Pixabay

Easy peasy!

One of the best parts about having a relationship with me is experiencing the freedom to share your fears and doubts. Feeling rocky about your faith? I love you no less. My holy ghostwriter Tania has struggled with her own doubts about supernatural occurrences, especially healings. Why are such a small percentage of people healed when they ask? How good does one’s faith have to be in order to “earn” a healing like this one described in Acts? And why do so many healing preachers seem to specialize in lengthening legs that are a smidge too short while leaving cancer mostly alone?

Did you think I was going answer those here? On Substack? Not today, Beloveds. But here’s a poem.

The Faith to Be Made Well

As I pray for my canker sore to disappear
I slide my tongue over the white groove
in my lip, knowing full well it will stay a few more days.

So I pray again, willing some holy
invasion of my flesh, like my friend who limped
to the altar and felt a thousand warm needles

stitching his herniated discs. Believe,
and you will be healed. I clamp my eyes tighter.
The sore sticks in my teeth like a seed.

I trust the clear scans of stage IV cancer patients,
testimonies of sunlight breaking through
cloudy eyes, cell-phone videos of straightened spines.

But God and I both know it doesn't happen
to people like me, people who make a home
of their tiny, stinging wounds,

who walk into a church and expect nothing
but dusty plastic lilies, fliers curling
on bulletin boards, the coffee pot's gurgle and hiss. 

Photo from the BBC article “A Faith Healer Tried to Cure My Disability”