When I was in High School, we switched churches and went from a big Catholic Church on the border of York City to a tiny Catholic Church in our little town called Spring Grove. If you’ve never heard of Spring Grove, it’s a small town in South Central PA that makes paper. The Paper Mill emits a stench that’s comparable to rotten eggs and made us the laughing stock of the surrounding school districts. In my family you weren’t allowed to complain about the smell, because that’s where my Pap worked and he always said it smells like money because that’s where his paycheck came from. I was excited for this change, because that meant that I would be in Religious Education Classes with friends of mine from school rather than the kids who went to the surrounding school districts. What I didn’t realize, is that my faith would grow even further in that tiny little church in that stinky little paper town.
Our Parish Center had a big room full of old couches and armchairs for the High School class. It was pretty smart on the church’s end – it’s hard enough getting High School kids up early on the weekend – put them in a classroom with tables and chairs and you can forget about them paying attention, learning anything or even showing up!
Our teacher was a self-proclaimed former hippie named Dave. He had a personality you just had to love, a contagious smile, always smelled like patchouli and made the teaching for the day relatable to us adolescents.
I remember one Sunday morning; we were studying Mark 4:25-34.
25 And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years,26 and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. 28 For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.” 29 And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.30 And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” 31 And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’” 32 And he looked around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. 34 And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
I challenged him, you know, because that’s what teenagers do. I asked him that if her faith was so strong, why did she have to touch Him to be healed? His response resonates with me still over 20 years later.
He said, “Missi, do you see that light switch over there?”
Me, “Yep.”
Dave, “Do you have faith that there is electricity running through those walls to that switch that will turn on the lights.”
Me, “Yes…”
Dave, “Well, just because you have faith that the switch has electricity and will turn on the lights, will that make the lights turn on?”
Me, stumped, “No…”
Dave, “Sometimes you have to act on your faith. You can believe that the electricity is in the walls and runs to the switch that turns on the lights, but if you don’t stand up, walk over there and turn on the lights, they won’t turn on.”
Wow. That hit me hard. And here I thought I knew everything, you know, because teenagers always know everything!
You have to act on your faith. Just because you might believe that something is possible, doesn’t mean that you can keep sitting there waiting for it to happen. You need to stand up, walk to the switch and turn it on!
What are you waiting for? What steps do you need to take to flip the switch and act on your own faith?
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