Math
On Sunday morning while listening to our pastor’s sermon on persistent prayer, my mind wandered to the moments of doubt that I’ve had over the course of my adult life about whether everything that I’ve learned about Jesus is true. Historically, it’s clear he existed, but it’s all the supernatural parts of his story that, if I’m being honest, have given me pause at times. Like, bruh, this man really died and rose again, and before all of that turned water into wine and healed lepers? It’s quite unbelievable. And yet, I always come back to believing.
Image: Me with a group of middle school summer campers who are currently attending a camp that all of our children attended in the past. They are working on building small businesses as part of their summer projects.
Over the years, my belief hasn’t been buoyed by any one specific piece of historical evidence, but more so because of all the tiny miracles that I have experienced — being able to purchase a New York City apartment on a $40,000 non-profit salary; being able to lock in a mortgage at .125%; Nick’s and my first business still existing when most businesses fail after the first few years. Sure, I had to take actions to help these outcomes, but the feasibility of them happening, given my circumstances, is pretty remarkable. I really don’t believe any of it would have been possible without the supernatural intervention from Jesus.
Some may call these miracles fortuitous coincidences or conveniently timed interventions. Maybe I’ve just positioned myself to be in the right place at the right time. But I always believe it is a godly provision and protection making these miracles happen. When I see God working in my life, against all odds, my faith deepens.
Plus, I have to have something to believe in. A life without the ability to take my problems to someone more powerful than me is more stress than I have the capacity to endure. I was listening to this devotional on Spotify the other day, and the pastor narrating the message talked about Jesus returning to earth. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that for a moment I thought the world would just keep going on and on without him ever returning; instead we’d just continue existing. But I came back to the present and decided to continue believing in Jesus’s story.
Part of my commitment to my faith is anchored by the desire to survive. I can’t fathom a world in which I have to bear all the stresses of adulting, parenting, and just plain existing in this fallen world alone. It wasn’t until a friend in grad school told me I was lucky to have something to believe in that I realized the impact of my belief system on my psyche and general well-being. I never thought about my ability to have this blind faith as a privilege until she said it, especially because believing in something is free. And yet, she believed in nothing — a cost that left her never feeling she had sure footing in this world.
Image: Glory aka THE Well-Read Black Girl and my friend from high school standing across the cake cake with Aliyyah Baylor, owner of the Harlem dessert institution Make My Cake during one of Glory’s recent trips to the city.
Faith doesn’t make sense. It is a suspension of belief in what you can see and a release of what is in your control to a higher power. Praying is an exercise in believing in an outcome that is out of reach. The math never maths with spiritual faith, and yet I see it working in my life every day; it is the oxygen mask I keep affixed to my face so that I can keep going.
There are obstacles ahead of me every day, and there are, at times, what feel like insurmountable odds against my success. I mean, do you know how much it costs to do business in New York City and grow a business with limited resources? Like I said, the fact that we’ve made it this far is nothing short of divine intervention. And now more than ever, I am leaning into my faith in Jesus to carry me. Miracles come to those who believe, and I believe even if I don’t know how it will all come together.
Petrushka
Your Local Ice Cream Lady & Life/Business Coach