Mark Twain once said something about there being two days that are important in your life. The day you’re born, and the day you find out why. I think there’s a third day that matters as much as the other two. The day you realise that your why only matters to you, and no one else.
There’s a sacred trust that is unspoken but governs the hearts of everyone. That trust is created in moments when we honour our why in servitude of others. Everyone has this inclination. To serve as best as they can, to honour that trust that no one speaks of.
A rare few, or perhaps more than that, invest that servitude in those who are true to their why. In return, the trust is fulfilled, but still unspoken. The only evidence of its fulfilment is the fulfilment they feel when their sincere servitude is honoured in kind.
But what of those who invested it in ones who dishonour their why? Worse still, what if your why is to give hope to those who have given up hope in themselves?
The ones in need of hope grab at the hints of its arrival without any concern for its origin. It is not the being attached to the outstretched hand that matters. Only what that hand contains.
In that moment of giving, when something is gained by the hopeless, something is lost by the hopeful. Until eventually, the scale tips beyond its balance, and the hopeful become the hopeless. That’s when that sacred trust is broken, often beyond repair.
Without trust, all that’s left is faith. Faith denies us the right to give up. Caught between the absence of trust, fading hope, and a fragile faith, the struggle of being human is born. And in that desecrated space, angels and demons are formed.
If there is enough hope left in the cup, it fuels the endeavour to remain true to our why. But if the cup of hope is empty, faith settles in quietly, hope exits gracefully, and trust is abandoned, finally. Leaving the one caught in that conflict feeling conflicted, painfully aware of the emptiness that the tainted sanctity of that trust left, while knowing that faith always demands more.
Perhaps faith is not our saving grace from the trials of life. Perhaps faith itself is the trial.