A Foreigner's Faith

He was a Centurion. He was used to being the big wig, the one whose orders were followed without a second guess or questioning word. He said “go” and that person would go. He would call for a certain person, and that person would drop all that he was doing to meet the demands of this man. Now this Roman wanted Jesus.

He was Roman. Jesus was Jewish. He could have ordered Jesus to come to his office and if Jesus refused, he could have had Jesus punished. Yet even before the cross and its purpose were obtained, the power of a Saviour had reached the heart of a Gentile. Before Paul was ever sent to reach the Gentile world with the amazing salvation of Jesus Christ, this Roman believed in Jesus.

The Centurion sent for Jesus because his beloved slave was dying. With incredible words, the centurion tells Jesus, “if you say the word, whether you are here in this house or in another place, I know that your word will be followed out. Jesus, you do not even have to come all the way to my home, but even if a messenger brings your words to me, whatever they are will be fulfilled. Lord, even if you do not send your words to me but say them right where you are, those words are carried out.” And Jesus stops in his tracks, turns to the chosen people of God and says, “not in all of Israel have I found such faith.” In my inadequate words, the centurion’s faith was this: If Jesus said it, it would be done. No questions, no musings, no discussions, no debates. Jesus’s words would be done.

Once again I find myself at Starbucks, indulging myself in my favorite drink from this place, their Strawberries & Crème frappuccino. My mind is swirling with the events and information of the past two days. Bits of words and conversation from a dear friend keep resounding in my mind as I, through human eyes, view the main event in my life. The decision to go to graduate school.

Although the visit to the school was good and I have a peace about the surroundings, I think that I waiting for this “ah-ha” moment, waiting for the light bulb to turn on to confirm probably what I already know that I am suppose to do. I think I am waiting for this rush of emotions and passion to surge through me to the point where I cannot imagine doing anything else but this one thing. Truthfully that has not happen but the words from a conversation yesterday keep blowing through my mind, the words of a friend when he said, “sounds like you have a passion there.” I have not told my friend that his words stopped my train of thought at the moment he said them nor that they have not left my mind since. But in my mind, those words rest, causing me to revisit the story of the Centurion whose faith in God even astounded Jesus.

Being the detailed-oriented person that I am, I know all the logistics that will go into moving to Pasadena, finding housing, finances, and the schoolwork. It is daunting to say the least. Part of me keeps trying to find another path to it that will not be as trusting as this route but I do not think that will come. This time around I am going to have to take a deep breathe, close my eyes, run, and jump straight into the pool of faith, letting its presence wrapped completely around me, drenching me completely, and believing that I will reach the surface to breathe. That will take the faith of a centurion.