Faith Is Not the End — It’s the Invitation

Today, I realised something about faith — especially in the context of God, or the relationship I have with myself.

As someone who’s struggled to embrace faith, I used to see it as a kind of compromise. Faith, to me, felt like a substitute for understanding — as if I had to choose between faith or knowledge, but never both. One always seemed to exclude the other.

I’ve seen how blind faith can become dangerous — the kind that justifies harm, like extremists who claim belief while bombing innocent lives. I’ve also known people like myself — intellectually sharp, but inwardly unsettled, shaky. We cling to logic but sometimes feel hollow inside.

But lately, I’ve started to see faith differently.

A healthy kind of faith doesn’t shut down curiosity — it invites it. It’s not an answer that ends the search; it’s the quiet knowing that there is something there… and it’s worth exploring.
It doesn’t kill understanding — it makes the process of understanding feel meaningful.
It’s not the final destination — it’s the beginning of a relationship.

Real faith — to me now — is an openness. It’s a trust that something good is on the other side, even if I don’t fully understand it yet. It’s not the absence of doubt; it’s the confidence to walk with doubt, knowing the answers will unfold.

Faith is knowing, even without all the evidence yet. It’s the first step in a long, beautiful dance.
Faith says: "There’s something here, I feel it. Let’s build the bridge and meet there."

In this light, faith becomes relational — a living, breathing connection between two entities. Whether that’s between me and God, or me and my deeper self, it’s something that grows. And like any relationship, it needs tending — through understanding, attention, and care.

If what I truly long for is self-intimacy, then maybe it begins here — with a little bit of faith in myself.
Not blind faith. Not forced. Just enough to start.

Enough to say:

“There’s something in me worth knowing. Let me stay curious. Let me be kind. Let me not rush. Let me not demand perfection. Let me trust the unfolding.”

This relationship with myself isn’t a performance. There is no finish line. It’s a rich, ongoing, evolving bond — one where I’ll reap what I sow.

And if I pay attention — really pay attention — I’ve noticed something.
Nine times out of ten, the answers always come.
Not all at once.
But they do come.

So I choose to trust in that.
To walk with open eyes, an open heart, and a gentle posture.
Because there is no not-knowing — only understanding, slowly, beautifully, revealing itself.