The Way of Faith: Tested Through Mercy, Transformed by Love

We all carry burdens we refuse to name, yet we often mistake our spiritual journey for a performance. The prophet Isaiah forces us to confront this: What if our most fervent prayers are, to God, simply a heavy burden (1:14)? Our way of faith is not found in the rituals we repeat, but in the inner transformation that begins with honest reckoning. These readings reveal how works without faith are a scarlet-stained futility, but they also unveil the path of renewal through confession. When we embrace mercy, we receive the power of love and forgiveness, preparing us to make the decisive leap of following Jesus.

​The Foundation: Lectionary Texts for Reflection

  • Isaiah 1:10–18: The Reckoning and the promise of purification.
  • Psalm 32:1–7: The joy of confession and forgiveness, unsealing mercy’s flood.
  • 2 Thessalonians 1:1–12: The endurance of growing faith amid affliction.
  • Mark 10:46–52: Bartimaeus’s cry and the leap of response.

I. The Weariness: Laying Down the Mask

From burden to authenticity.

Inner Posture: Awareness of hypocrisy.

Movement Phrase: The soul grows weary of pretending holiness.

​If the exhaustion we feel is not from the difficulty of our life, but from the spiritual lie we maintain, then the path to renewal begins here. We are invited not as performers, but as the weary ones, to lay down the mask of false piety. The soul grows weary of pretending holiness.

​The prophet Isaiah points to the divine sigh: “I am weary of bearing them” (1:14). God is not weary of our sin, but of our inauthenticity. We have become so adept at the motions of our way of faith that we’ve forgotten its meaning. This is the quiet, daily form of Christian hypocrisy.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Thessalonians, offers a vision of what genuine, unwearying faith looks like. He commends them not for their rituals, but for a tested faithgrowing abundantly” amid affliction (2 Thess. 1:3). Their love is increasing, not as effort, but as overflow. He prays that God will “fulfill by his power every good resolve and work of faith” (2 Thess. 1:11). This is the promise: Not our frantic striving, but divine presence fueling what endures.

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Invitation: What resolve stirs in you, unspoken, waiting for such power?

Refrain: Faith births love. Love births justice.

​But unmasking is only the beginning. Awareness without repentance still withers; the soul must face what its silence has hidden.

​II. The Reckoning: Facing the Abomination (Isaiah 1:10–18)

From hypocrisy to confession.

Inner Posture: Honest confession.

Movement Phrase: When I kept silent, I dried within.

​We move from the fatigue of pretense to the necessary shock of the reckoning. We must face the spiritual cost of hiding our true state, accepting that our works without faith are what God finds burdensome. When I kept silent, I dried within. This phrase captures the internal cost of the hypocrisy Isaiah is about to name.

​A. The Prophetic Renaming (The Fire of Recognition)

​Isaiah begins with a devastating act of renaming: “Hear the word of the Lord, you rulers of Sodom; listen to the law of our God, you people of Gomorrah!” (1:10). This is the prophet’s gut-punch. We, the covenant people, are labeled for cities consumed by their own moral decay. The sin of Sodom and Gomorrah wasn’t hidden vice alone; it was a profound spiritual blindness—a prosperity that felt no obligation to the poor.

Invitation: In this renaming, what hidden Sodom lingers in your governance of self—of time, of words, of withheld mercy?

​B. The Vain Offering (The Futility of Unrooted Works)

​This hypocrisy leads to the central crisis: “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices?Your hands are full of blood” (1:11, 15). God rejects all the outward rituals because iniquity poisons the air. The vast accumulation of our works of faith is rendered futile if our inner transformation hasn’t aligned our heart with justice. Deeds detached from the heart’s truth are echoes in an empty chamber—resounding, yet rootless.

The Refrain: Faith births love. Love births justice.

​Yet divine judgment is never the final word. Even as Isaiah names our desolation, mercy waits in the next breath. The Psalmist teaches us how grace begins — not in defense, but in confession.

​III. The Release: Confessing the Heart’s Truth (Psalm 32:1–7)

From silence to song.

Inner Posture: Receiving mercy.

Movement Phrase: Truth demands its voice.

The spiritual journey pivots here, at the hinge of confession. We move from condemnation to the forge where guilt yields to grace. Confession unseals the flood of grace.

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​A. The Cost of Concealment (The Wasting Silence)

​The Psalmist articulates the precise internal cost of living under the burden exposed by the prophet. When I kept silent, I dried within. This phrase perfectly captures the barren weight of unacknowledged sin: “my bones wasted away… my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer” (Psalm 32:3-4). Inauthentic faith is this exhaustion. It is why the first step toward renewal is simply speaking the truth.

Invitation: Where in your silence does the heat rise, drying what once flowed freely?

​B. The Cleansing Fire (The Forgiveness Freely Given)

​The moment of release is simple and instantaneous: “Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,’ and you forgave the guilt of my sin” (Psalm 32:5).

The Theological Hinge: The fire that razed Sodom becomes, in mercy, the forge that purifies the heart—ashes transfigured to gold, pretense to truth. We are covered by divine embrace: “Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven” (Psalm 32:1). We are no longer defined by the scarlet of our past, for God declares: “if your sins are like scarlet, they shall become like snow” (Isaiah 1:18). This is the power of love and forgiveness.

The Refrain: Faith births love. Love births justice.

​The silence that once drained the Psalmist now gives way to the shout of faith. What was inwardly confessed now becomes outwardly embodied.

​IV. The Response: Leaping into the Way (Mark 10:46–52)

From sight to following.

Inner Posture: Faith embodied.

Movement Phrase: He threw off his cloak and followed the Way.

​A forgiven heart does not sit still; it shouts, it springs, it follows. Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, embodies this final stage of our way of faith.

​A. The Bold Cry (The Heart’s Unsilenced Plea)

​Bartimaeus began to shout: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (Mark 10:47). He prioritized his need over the crowd’s rules.

The Theological Hinge: Isaiah’s Sodom burned because blindness reigned in the powerful; Bartimaeus’s physical blindness is healed because he had spiritual sight. He recognizes mercy in Christ and voices the plea that the self-righteous refused to speak for the poor.

Invitation: What mercy do you cry for, louder than the world’s silencing?

​B. The Surrender and Healing (The Way Made Visible)

​When called, Bartimaeus made a definitive choice: “So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus” (Mark 10:50). The cloak was his beggar’s chain. To cast it off was faith’s decisive surrender: no more hiding in the old sin.

Jesus honored the source: “Go; your faith has made you well” (Mark 10:52). The outward act was merely the visible evidence of the inner transformation. The story is incomplete without the following: “Immediately he regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.” This is the key to all works of faith. Justice becomes not a duty, but love in motion on this spiritual journey.

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The Refrain: Faith births love. Love births justice.

​The one who follows on the Way becomes the sign of what faith fulfilled looks like. Bartimaeus’s leap becomes our lifelong walk — love made visible.

​V. The Fulfillment: Living Love in Motion

From action to enduring love.

Inner Posture: Love enduring.

​The cycle is complete: Isaiah wrenched open the abomination; the Psalm forged the release; Bartimaeus leapt into the Way. We are no longer Sodom’s heirs, burdened by scarlet-stained futility, but snow’s—made clean by surrender and empowered by love enduring, tested through mercy as Paul envisions. The goal is not just to feel forgiven, but to let that forgiveness drive us. As Paul prayed, God can fulfill in you “every good work of faith” (2 Thess. 1:11).

​Final Challenge

​Pause here: Confess the silence in your heart, not to earn, but to receive the boundless love and forgiveness. Then rise: Seek justice not as frantic striving, but as the forgiven one’s quiet command. Let your heart become the clean altar where mercy kindles every act of love.

​Contemplative Sending

​Go now—washed, forgiven, and aflame with faith that does not tire. Amen.

The Final Echo (Closing the Cycle):

Faith births love. Love births justice. And justice, lived in mercy, returns us again to faith.

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Defining God

So one of the books that I’m reading at the moment is “In Tune with the Infinite“, by Ralph Waldo Trine. I am loving this book! Hard to believe it was originally written some 115 years ago – it’s easy reading! But what I really love about the book is that he focuses on Oneness with God, every moment of each day. Life hasn’t always been this way: I haven’t always valued being present and being aware of Presence or oneness with God.

I am much more comfortable with the terms he uses to refer to God than with those of some other books, but my awareness of the names we use to refer to God are also a reflection of the image we have created of how and what God is.

Is God personal or simply a Presence?

I really struggle with identifying where I stand on this? Maybe because I think God is both! God is God (omnipotent & omnipotence; omniscient & omniscience; omnipresent & omnipresence): why must we put God in a box and a definition?

A bit of background:

I grew up in a fundamentalist (of course, we didn’t call ourselves that!) group, where Mum & Dad worked as missionaries. Now when I look at the “do’s” and “don’ts”, the corporal punishment expected to be given (i.e. my parents were looked down on if they didn’t punish), and the control over how everyone lived their lives, I wonder how close to being a “cult” we were. Thankfully, Mum & Dad got kicked out of the mission, although it was heartbreaking and earth-shattering at the time. It was all I knew. Then we moved back to New Zealand, where I discovered that we were Presbyterian.

How does a Presbyterian end up in a fundamentalist group? Trying to save the world! I have to hand that to Mum & Dad: they truly believed that they were doing God’s will and this was the best that they can be. And I will say this for them: every time I go back to Soloy or Tolè, they are remembered by everyone with great love and affection. They positively impacted people’s lives. And in some cases, literally saved lives (mum was an RN and midwife, so in the boondocks with no EMTs or hospitals, sometimes mum was everything). And dad was love. He loved these people with his heart. If I had just an ounce of the amount of love that dad has for the world, I would be a great person! Do I disagree with some of dad’s opinions? Yes. But I can agree to disagree with him!

By 17 I had “left” the church: blame it on the hormones, the rebellious years, starting University and living the student life. But, the explanation that I gave to myself – as does every self-righteous 17 year old – is that I was sick of the hypocrisy. And by hypocrisy I mean: you know I go out drinking on Friday & Saturday night, and you want me to come to church on Sunday morning and pretend to be a good Christian. I would much rather sleep in and sleep off the hangover!

Reality, which I came to face years later, is that I was mad at God, at Christians, at the mission (especially leadership), and at “organized religion”. I didn’t know enough then to be able to think through all of those things or actually verbalize it yet. So, it was much easier just to be a rebellious teenager that no longer wanted to go to church with my parents.

Forgiveness & moving on

At 21, in the midst of an existential crisis, my flatmate leant me a book she had just finished reading as she went through her separation & divorce that had really helped her: Louise Hay “You can heal your life“. I read it through once. And then I read it through a second time, and did all the assignments as it suggested. And my happy (well, actually, miserable at the time) little bubble finished bursting! I literally packed a weekend bag and my dog (you can’t cry if you don’t have a dog to hug!), borrowed a friend’s bach in Kaiaua (pronounced: Ky-ow-ah), and went off to say goodbye to my demons! I spent the better part of 3 days grieving and forgiving. Letting go. And coming to terms with “what do I believe now?”.

I realized that I blamed God for everything: everything that had been done by so-called Christians in God’s name was God’s fault! A child’s view? Perhaps. But also the consequence of the way I was brought up!

My broken heart and broken dreams and broken family all tumbled out. I came to terms with everything that I blamed Mum & Dad for: and came to an understanding of how they were also victims to some extent of what had happened. And I realized, as a young adult, that they were human. They had done the best they could with what they had and they knew. They were not perfect: they could have done things differently, but they didn’t know any different. They protected me to the best of their ability, they same way they looked after my sister and brother. And for all 3 of us, it hadn’t been enough. We were hurt and broken. But so were they! Life had dealt them a beating and they were lucky to still be standing! I’ll write about all of that another day!

And most importantly, I started to forgive myself!

Twenty years growing up in Christianity and I had to learn from Louise Hay what forgiveness and letting go meant! I’ve read somewhere that tears contain healing properties. I must have completely healed my body in those 3 days with all the tears I cried!

Who & what is God?

Having said that, after that weekend, I came away with a view of God as an impersonal entity that was not involved in the daily affairs of men. I was done with Christianity! God and I were good, insofar as I no longer blamed God for how I had reacted to everything that had happened to me over the past 20 years. Man-made situations were simply that: created by other men & women who had claimed to be acting on God’s behalf. And I was done with organised religion and others telling me what God had said and how to read and interpret the Bible.

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And so there I stood, happily: standing on my own two feet. Responsible for my life and the life I wanted to have. Not some rebellious teen that didn’t want to go to Church on Sunday morning because she wanted to sleep off last nights drinks, but someone who simply decided that God was “out there” and not “in my heart”. Religion was organized to control and manipulate us, but each person had to decide for themselves what they believed.

I was suddenly comfortable talking to Mum & Dad about God and beliefs and life in generally without feeling guilty that I was living differently from what they believed. I built a new relationship with Mum & Dad: one that to this day is amazing! They’ve done a great job of growing up.

And so, for the better part of the next 15 years, I was a happy agnostic. I am totally responsible for my life and being, and God may exist, but it has nothing to do with me personally.

Living as a happy agnostic

So, as a happy agnostic, at 23, I came back to Panama to say “goodbye” to the ghosts and ghouls of the past, to forgive and let go of any last vestiges that might be in my subconscious. The plan: spend 3 months on holiday in Panama and then move to the UK to go backpacking for a year while I decided to do with life. But free and clear of anything that I was still hanging on to, because I always felt in New Zealand that I was in the wrong place. Something was still hanging onto me that wouldn’t let me move forward with life.

Of course, life never quite goes as planned: twenty-one years later and I am still in Panama. It is still home!

When I stepped out of the airport doors (which was air conditioned), and I was struck by the hot, humid air, something inside said “Welcome home”. And so, in a second, I changed my mind. I am not going to stay 3 months, I’m going to get a job and stay for 2 years. That plan isn’t the one that happened either. I’m still here!

Living in a predominantly Catholic country, where I would venture to say that the vast majority are non-practicing, it’s easy to be agnostic. No one is worried here about what church you do or don’t go to; no one worries about your “salvation” or what you personally believe. There’s superstition, possibly more than your fair share. I adopted a black cat – so I was definitely a witch! And I let people believe it, if that was what they wanted to think. It’s just a cat! But if you want to assign my cat some supernatural powers, so be it.

And so it went for about 15 years.