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Faith plays an odd role in my life. It’s the thing that has brought me back from the brink of death. In case you’re not aware, I’m a born-again Christian who believes in Jesus Christ as her lord and savior. Or in more politically correct terms, I’m a Jesus follower. I believe in the teachings and commandments of Jesus. I believe that he has fulfilled Old Testament law and that I don’t need to adhere to everything to be a good Christian.

I used to think, in order to be a good Christian, that it was necessary to pray every day and read the Bible every day, but Jesus didn’t say any of those things. Jesus said the ultimate commandments were to love God and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).

Faith, for me, is sort of an odd duck. I have it. Then I don’t. It’s a process. I believe in God, but I’m lousy at attending church regularly. I read the Bible as often as I can (though not every day), and I pray as I think of it.

There was a time I would’ve said faith was central to my well-being. And in some ways, it still is. It’s one of the most important things in my life. But if I’m honest, I don’t rank God first through my actions. He’s often secondary to other things. I don’t mean for things to be that way. I try to put God and government first when it comes to money (although, if I’m honest, the government comes first most of the time). But when it comes to time, God only gets a small portion of it. He should really get a much larger portion but I don’t know how to spend time with him that isn’t meaningless.

Maybe I should just sit in silence and see how he speaks to me.

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