John the Israelite

When I was younger, I always wondered - often out loud - how the ancient (this is an immense stretch of time here: Adam to Jesus) people could be so foolish. I remember saying repeatedly in Sunday School that the Israelites must be really dumb. The Bible, among infinite other functions, also serves as a recording of some of God's greatest works. These include the Disney-favorite splitting of the Red Sea and the oft-forgotten burning of the bulls in Elijah's day. And then, of course, there are Jesus's own miracles: water to wine, feeding 5,000 (or one of me), to name a couple. After experiencing all these miracles firsthand, how dumb do you have to be, I always wondered, to doubt a God so clearly mighty and powerful?

AND THEN, as I was driving (car thoughts/talks are the best) home one day, it dawned on me. I am an Israelite. I have, without a doubt, experienced God's miracles in my life. At the very least, I've seen the imprints of his (are capital h's still a thing?) hand shape it. However, time and time again, I doubt his might and I deviate from the path. And yet, just because I don't have the confirmation of having my story recorded in the Bible, I always find ways to finagle out the importance of God in those events. Oh John of little faith.

This mini epiphany led to another revelation. We are frequently reminded of the importance of faith and how faith like a mustard seed can move mountains. I realized that I had been viewing that little nugget from a completely erroneous perspective; actually, I may have never understood what it really meant at all. As far as I understand now, it seems that we serve and worship an infinite God. Therefore, to have a little faith - that is, to grasp a small chunk of infinity - still leaves us with infinite amount of. . . everything. 

Anyways. Sorry God.