We all know it, we’ve all said it, we use it to quench the thirst in our weary souls of wanting and longing for a different end, of desiring more, of feeling that this is not where the story ends. Have faith. But what does that look like?

Hebrews 11:1 – “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” We don’t see it, but we believe we will receive it.

And then there’s “speaking those things as though they were” and “hope will not put you to shame”, because we hope in the idea that we will see a different tomorrow, and we keep praying for faith, and fighting to keep hope alive because in the words of my father “giving up is a dead man.”

But, what if after all this hoping, after all this praying and having faith, we never see the evidence? Better yet, what does that evidence even look like? Does it still count as faith after all these years of yearning for marriage you die a spinster? Oh, but what about the couple praying like Hannah for a righteous seed? The one they were promised, the fruit of the womb in response to the command to be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. If they never get to bear children, was it still faith, or perhaps they thought they had great faith but lacked the meagre mustard seed size of it?

My grandmother was a woman of great faith. I know it, because even as her health deteriorated, she kept praying, thanking God, and declaring she was blessed. I dare say there were prayers for healing somewhere between the tears triggered by the pain that opioids couldn’t take away because it was more than physical.

Yet, she kept her faith alive. But where was the evidence?

What if we were looking at this all wrong? What if women of faith like my grandmother were a modern-day reminder of Hebrews 11:2, the verse we never really remember to quote – “For by it the elders obtained a good report.”

What if, instead of things, our faith only bore a good report, and some of us will never see the “physical evidence”? All we will gain is a respectable account of the life we lead. Because we believed. Because we still called God faithful when it seemed like He failed, and we still declared Him good, steadily trotting downhill.

I heard someone say that faith isn’t a finish line, it is a muscle you must keep working out. You know, much like we go to the gym and make the 10,000 steps daily but if we ever decide to indulge in a treat, we go right back to where we came from.

“[By faith] women received their dead raised to life again: and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection.” – Hebrews 11:35.

I reckon that for some of us, longing, suffering, yearning, our strength will come from not having obtained “things” but by the flexing of our faith muscle to ultimately receive a good report.

And I know it’s hard. But I see you! Keep the faith.

This blog was done by Tameika Dussard. Tameika is a Jamaican native who lives in Canada with her husband, Leon. She is a lover of good food and good company. She enjoys cooking inventive meals for her friends and family. Tameika also writes poetry in her spare time. Her Christian faith has led her to be passionate about empowering people, especially women.

^{Photo by Anna Might Take Pics}