I am awake in the middle of the night, alone in a hotel room. I have a day of unknowns ahead of me. I find myself probing the dark with darting eyes, asking, God, are you real? Are you really there?
Nothing has changed since earlier today–yesterday, actually–when I was sharing freely with a friend some of our reasons for confidence in God. Nothing except it was light then with a friend, and dark now alone.
Somewhere I will not take time to locate now, C. S. Lewis spoke of this, and he was right: faith is continuing to believe in the dark what we knew to be true in the light.
I had reason to believe earlier. The facts are still the same. I choose still to believe. Faith is (among other things) retaining confidence in what reason knows to be true, when emotion's distractions threaten to overwhelm reason.
Great faith, I suppose, would be having one's emotions so guided by what one knows to be true, that such distractions do not even arise in the mind. Perhaps someday I'll know what it's like to have great faith.