Faith

St Mary's Church, Cambridge, UK

I am not a Christian, but I spent 15 years of my early education in a school and college run by the nuns of the Apostolic Carmel order. The shy stammering child bullied by the smarter more confident children, I used to find refuge in the school chapel where no one could harass me or tease me until I cried. The chapel was usually empty during the day. When I was very small I did not know who this man was, why he was nailed to a cross, why he had a crown of thorns on his head. But I felt he surely must be suffering, and more than me?

And that's how he became a brother.

The nuns once took us to watch a movie about Jesus. When the time came for him to be lifted up onto the cross, I was crying so uncontrollably they had to take me out of the huge hall. Decades later I went to watch the 'The Passion'. When the scene of the crucifixion came, I knew nothing had changed. This was still my brother, my flesh and blood they were torturing. I fainted and slid down unconscious from my seat, much to the horror of my husband and my friend. :)

To this day I walk into churches wherever I go, anywhere in the world, I am deeply drawn to them. The routine is still the same. I smile and say Hello. I kneel down. And then I usually end up crying. Though now it is more out of gratitude and astonishment.

The realization that I have been saved, again and again and again, in ways too miraculous to be real - though I have never had any faith whatsoever..

Storm on Galilee
Teddy Macker

http://whilethereisstilltime.blogspot.com/2016/09/faith.html