This is an assignment handed over by the Woman of the House, which as everyone knows, is actually more like a demand. I am quick to my feet and grab the closest Bible. See, there's a little bit of writer's block happening in my head and I've said "I'm going to blog, for real this time" enough times today to be considered a lunatic, or at least fickle.

The assignment: Open the Bible to a random passage and write about it.

"Consider Abraham: He believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness."

Assignment commences (doesn't it lessen the power of a post when you know it's forged on the spot?):

Consider Abraham with me for a moment. Consider the man who saw in his lifetime, a name-change, several location changes, a promise made, a promise seemingly broken, and a whole lot of other baggage we like to bury under the cloak of the Patriarch of our Faith: these things are better left to other men of lesser character and potential. But consider Abraham with me for a moment and realize that it wasn't Abraham's righteousness (even in the days of a very demanding bar to uphold) that was credited to him, it was his belief.

You already got that part right?

But that seems curious to me: here, in the days when righteousness was regarded more highly than belief (after all, there was no foretold Messiah in which to believe at this point), that a man who ran away much, lied a few times more, laughed in the face of his Lord, and took a handmaid to fulfill a seemingly empty promise, that he was credited with belief.

Belief is what Peter had and lost there on the sea. Belief is what Thomas lost and then had when he saw the holes in his Savior's hands. Belief is what Elijah knew when the whisper blew through his cave. And belief is what we all feel in that first recognition of salvation. We are strong with belief, we are firm with belief, we are built of belief--even without righteousness.

And that is somehow comforting to me. Today, when I fail and when righteousness seems far from me. When I mess up my life's script, when today's portion doesn't taste good on my palate, and when I laugh at the promises He's spoken, harboring unrighteousness in the form of disbelief. It is comforting to me that being right isn't the end result, but believing is.

It is comforting to me to realize that I might, and will, fail at ever being right--really right--but I only need to lift up my eyes and know that He is my helper, the maker of heaven and earth.

"Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!"