faithful

Someone today described me as religious. I think they don't understand what that means. Because what he defined as religious is really not religious at all: it's faithful. And yes, I am.

I am full of faith.
I believe in God.
I believe that He is the one, true God.
I believe that He breathed life into Adam.
I believe He created the world, and everything in it, and I believe that He allowed for evolution, and for things to change and adapt and even become better.
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that He came from Heaven to earth for a reason, and I believe that the reason was to show me that there's a reason for living, and that's to glorify God and to be with Him after I leave the earthsuit behind me.
I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins. Stacy Kocur's sins. I believe that I'm precious to Him, and cherished, and cried over and wished for and I believe that when I live in outright sin, it breaks His heart. Because He knows I'm better than that. He knows I'm filled with compassion and gentleness and peace and love, because HE put those things in me. I believe He waits for me on that dusty road with the fatted calf at the ready, His arms outstretched, and I believe that everytime I come meandering down it, afraid to ask for forgiveness, He gives if before I even have to utter a word. Because He knows my heart.
I believe the Word of God is infallible, but I also believe that men have translated that Word over the ages and that what I read today is riddled with the mistakes of men. I believe that when I'm confused about what I read, or unsure of what I'm supposed to receive from it, that God can make it clear to me if I trust Him to do so and I if approach it without allowing my own agenda to get in the way.
I believe that God hears my prayers.
I believe.
I believe.
I believe.

Father God, Abba, my Daddy in Heaven - maker of Heaven and earth, Healer of heavy hearts and weary bodies. Hear my prayer tonight, Oh Lord my God.
Be REAL to me, God. Show me with undeniable truth that YOU ARE GOD.
Work a miracle in James' brain, God. Heal him. Make him whole. Shrink the tumor so that when he returns to the surgeon on the 20th, they'll be amazed and shake their heads and throw up their hands and say "We don't understand." Show us a miracle. I'm begging you with tears that burn my cheeks and a lump in my throat that screams to be let loose. PLEASE GOD. I love the Puzzo family so much, and it's entirely selfish of me, but raw and honest, that I DON'T WANT TO HURT like this. My heart absolutely breaks for Jenny. oh GOD, WHY? Why must she suffer so? Why must she walk through this dark valley of fear and dread and absolute, paralyzing, choking TERROR? Wrap her in your loving arms, promise her that it will all be okay. Comfort her, hold her, give her peace and assurance. I BELIEVE THAT YOU HEAR MY PRAYERS. I believe that you want what's best for your children. I believe that Jenny and James are beloved, adopted sons and daughters of YOU, most loving and faithful God. Be faithful to us, Father. Hear our pleas. I believe. I believe. I believe.