Faith. How do you adequately put to words something in the depths of the soul? Where deep calls to deep? Belief might be easier to articulate: I believe in God the Father, Christ the Son, the Holy Spirit. The Trinity. Three in one. I am imperfect. Flawed. Yet despite I am forgiven. I believe in the Cross. Jesus Himself, the ransom for my life. He was crucified. Died. Rose again. And bought with that price, my life is no longer my own. I am His. But before I spend eternity with Him, I am here. Here to complete good works He foreknew and readied for me before He gave me breath—before He laid the very foundations of the earth. These works that I might exist for God to show Himself through me. That is my purpose. Living my life not just knowing Truth, not just gaining heaven myself—though that is part of it. I am also to make Him known and to display His glory. To live a life worthy of the calling I have received. So, faith? It doesn’t impact my life. Because faith, well, faith is to be my life. Lived out in partnership with him. Drawing near continually. Hanging onto the infallibility of every word of the Word. And, ultimately, in and through all of this, He becomes the echo of my days.