I can’t tell you the first time because I don’t remember it.
Maybe it’s a repressed memory or something my mind deemed unworthy of being recalled right now. But I believe that there are echoes of the first time when I encounter certain things.
As a kid, I grew up with those of the same religion as I. Our neighbors were. My grade school, academy, and college were. The hospital is. Even the printing press is as well. Majority of my friends still are. I say that because some of them no longer are.
Somehow, I cannot wrap my head around the idea that they no longer believe the same things that we used to.
Why do people stop believing?
Older friends and folks at church say that, sometimes, some things happen to people—dark and terrible things that shook them to their core that they never got around to being stable where they stood before. Certain incidences could traumatize and depress them so much that they go to the deep end. And it takes a lot of work to reach them.
But there are times when it’s all a matter of who you look at.
Keep looking at people—at their achievements and victories, their losses and their defeats, their corrections and mistakes—and you will stumble. You will fall. Beneath their skin, even those of the saints, are human souls who are imperfect to the core. An insistent and persistent gaze at imperfection will lead you to disappointment. And from that point, who knows where it could lead you.
Instead, turn your eyes upon Jesus, the author and the finisher of our faith.