Ever felt like you were losing your faith and lacking in hope?

I have.

These types of thoughts usually lead right into a nice bout of depression which is always a bitter battle. A downward mathematical equation calculating the slope of a line built on despair.

But one thing that I notice is that the fight begins when I felt that I no longer have questions. When the fullness of having things proves me safe in my supposed tangible security. Which I so arrogantly praised myself for acquiring. And with everything defined, categorized, and shelved so nicely, it would leave me in a place that no longer allowed for me to ask who I am and why I am here. Already summarizing that life had little meaning and even less value.

When I used to get to this spot, I would always voice that I no longer felt I had a reason to hope and that I had lost my faith. And go about looking for faith and hope not as objective solutions, but almost deities, defining the value using my subjective context.

And what would happen is that despair would seep right on in, dragging me deeper into feelings of pointlessness.

Lately I’ve been solving these issues by challenging my perspective. Going out and finding families and people who are in great need and have great pain. People whose lives have been torn apart by affairs, theft, drugs, or death.

These are the people who prove that we are not anywhere close to as knowing and mighty as we think. They are the ones to whom faith and hope are requirements. Simple reminders that we will all be broken someday and will cling to our faith and shout our hopes aloud.

Because when you are small, what else is there?