
Teaching high school for nearly 25 years, I encountered many students whose home life was not easy. Some had incarcerations or addictions in their families. Others experienced crime and violence in their neighborhoods and homes.
When I think back, one student I taught in Camden comes to mind: a young lady living in a single-parent home that was anything but safe and secure. Determined to better herself, she worked with one of our guidance counselors in order to participate in Outward Bound USA during her junior year of high school. This hands-on wilderness program aims to build character, with lessons on leadership and teamwork, so that participants can recognize their full potential.
This trip took her to the Appalachian Mountains of Maine, where she spent two weeks camping, backpacking, rock climbing, canoeing and portaging – where you have to carry your canoe or kayak across land to avoid rapids or to get to another river.
When she returned home, I asked, “What was the most profound impression you took away from your experience?”
She very quickly answered: the stars.
Until that moment, light pollution from Camden and Philadelphia had prevented her from ever seeing more than a few scattered stars in the night sky. In Maine, however, she saw a sky filled with countless heavenly bodies. It was an experience that opened her eyes to see beyond her disordered home environment.
It seems to me, this is kind of like faith. We know the stars of eternity are there, even when we can’t see them. Faith is a relationship of trust and love. It means opening ourselves to receive Christ, to grow a strong relationship with Christ and to give our life to Christ.
However, all too often, our faith can become obscured, dimmed like the stars – whether from the noise of the world or our own circumstances – leading us to doubt if we have enough of it.
We are not alone in such feelings. The apostles, too, were concerned about the amount of faith they would need to meet the demands of being Christ’s disciples. Look at what Jesus asks:
In Luke, Chapter 14, Jesus says, “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple; and every one of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”
In Matthew, Chapter 16, he says, “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
In John, Chapter 15, Jesus says, “If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first … If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”
The disciples respond by asking the Lord to increase their faith.
Jesus says, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”
Jesus is reminding the disciples that the faith they have isn’t even the size of a tiny mustard seed. This tells us that faith is not necessarily measured by its quantity, but simply by its presence.
When we can see our stars of faith shine brightly, we more readily see the pain of the world and respond with compassion and consolation; we recognize the brokenness of relationships – both in our families and society – and offer forgiveness and mercy; we attend the downtrodden and provide service and prayers; we find the strength to make our own life better. When we do this, we are living and acting by faith.
Faith does not change the circumstances of our lives. It changes us. It is a gift given to us at Baptism. Sometimes, we just have to clear away the pollution of the din of the world to see it.
Deacon Dean Johnson serves at Church of the Holy Family, Sewell.














