Reckless Faith

I read a new book this week, passed along by a dear friend who knows me well (many thanks, Carolyn). Reckless Faith, by Beth Guckenberger is a compilation of stories from the authors experience ministering to orphans, mostly in Monterrey, Mexico. It is a wonderful, inspiring book that really touched my heart. I am quoting a page from the book where she defines what she calls “reckless faith”.

As a child I used to sing songs about the Refiner’s fires. The analogy is of silver and dross. As the fire heats the silver, the impurities come to the surface and are skimmed off, leaving the silver more and more refined. In the analogy, refined means “pure, and naturally I want the impurities of sin to come to the surface, so that my faith can be ever more pure. That kind of refinement is part of what the Holy Spirit draws us to with each conviction and subsequent confession.

But refined can also be defined as “cultivated” and “fastidious”. That kind of “refined faith” is the opposite of the reckless faith I’m writing about here. That sort of  “refined faith” is predictable and resistant to change; it pretends to know what God will do a hundred Sundays from now. It is most comfortable with rules, consequences, and baby steps. It likes control and people who agree. It fears what it can’t see. A truly reckless faith, however, always expects change, and as a result, it’s eager to risk more and fear less! A reckless faith knows there is more to the story, more we can’t see, more than I experience now. It is hungry.

Reckless faith always has one foot in eternity. It measures people by their actions and not their belongings. A reckless faith believes when there is no evidence and hurls itself at what is unseen but promised. A reckless faith isn’t “refined” in the least. It does not make sense to the world, and yet, the world often seems fascinated by it.