Faith With an Address

Faith With an Address 

Stop Mailing Your Hope to Nowhere and Send It to The Creator 

By Kateb Shunnar 

Faith, to me, is like mail. Now don’t laugh just yet I know it sounds silly. But picture it: you can pour your heart into a letter, fold it neatly, tuck it inside the fanciest envelope you’ve got, even decorate it with stickers if you’re feeling creative, slap two or three stamps on it just to prove you’re serious. But if you don’t write down an address, or worse, if you scribble the wrong one, that letter is never getting where you meant it to go. That’s exactly how most of us treat faith. We write it, we dress it up, we put all this hope inside it, but then we send it to money, or friends, or our jobs, or our own cleverness. And when nothing happens, we say, “Faith doesn’t work.” But the truth? You just sent it to the wrong place.

And I’ll tell you something people don’t always want to hear faith has no power sitting by itself. Faith is not some magic ticket you wave at the sky to get whatever you want. Faith is an envelope. And an envelope is only as good as the address you put on it. Put it in yourself and it collapses. Put it in your career and it fizzles. Put it in The Creator the One who spoke mountains into being and suddenly, those mountains tremble like somebody just slid an eviction notice under their door.

I learned that lesson in pieces, often the hard way. My mother, Marva, had this steady voice whenever life went sideways. She’d say, “Kateb, have faith in The Creator.” Not in luck, not in people, not even in my own grit faith in Him. And she didn’t just say it on good days when the sun was out. She prayed it in the rain. She prayed it in the storm. She prayed it when bills stacked up and when her heart was heavy. She taught me that faith isn’t seasonal it’s an everyday address.

Let me slip a parable in here. There was a boy in a village who overheard the elders saying, “Faith can lift anything.” Fired up, he marched out to a boulder twice his size. He puffed up his chest, shouted “I believe!” and started pushing. He groaned, he sweated, his knees buckled, his face turned red, and in the end, he fell flat on his back like a broken stool. The villagers laughed, but an old woman helped him up. She whispered, “Faith isn’t about your strength it’s about who you trust to lift with you.” And that’s when the boy realized he had sent his faith to the wrong address: himself.

That’s what I call a faith failure. Faith in faith doesn’t move a pebble, let alone a mountain. You can holler at your problems all day long, barking at them like a sergeant: “Move! Be gone!” But unless that envelope has The Creator’s name on it, that mountain is going nowhere. Mountains don’t listen to motivational speeches. They only move when the One who carved them says so.

And faith, oh, it can be downright funny sometimes. I once prayed for something so specific it sounded like I was ordering at a drive-thru: “Yes, I’ll take peace of mind, extra patience, and if you’ve got it, a side of clarity.” When nothing showed up right away, I remember thinking, “Did the kitchen close?” I had to laugh at myself, because faith isn’t fast food. Faith is farming. You plant, you water, you wait. And while you’re standing there watering dirt, folks may laugh at you, shake their heads, call you foolish. But when the harvest finally breaks through, those same folks will be asking for a seat under the shade of your tree.

Here’s a folklore I thought up about that: There was once a traveler who carried empty jars everywhere he went. He believed one day the sky would rain honey. So, he held his jars out day after day. People mocked him, threw stones at his jars, called him crazy. One night, a storm did come but it wasn’t honey. It was rain. A stranger walked by and asked, “Why didn’t you bring buckets for water?” The traveler sighed, “Because I was waiting for honey.” The stranger shook his head and said, “Faith isn’t clinging to what you imagine it’s trusting the One who promised.” And that’s the thing: faith is not fantasy. Faith is relationship.

Let me lighten it with another parable. Once, a rooster strutted around, chest puffed out, declaring, “The sun rises because I crow!” The hens smirked but said nothing. One morning, that rooster overslept. Guess what? The sun still came up. He woke in a panic, pacing the yard muttering, “But I had faith in my crow!” The hens finally rolled their eyes and said, “Buddy, the light doesn’t depend on your noise. The Creator handles that.” The rooster had faith alright, but he sent it to the wrong address.

And for a bit of suspense, let me give you this one: In an old kingdom, a man built a ladder so tall he swore it would reach heaven. Everyone cheered him on as he climbed rung after rung. But halfway up, the wood cracked and down he tumbled, bruised and broken. Through his tears he cried, “But I had faith in my ladder!” A little child whispered, “You trusted the ladder. But ladders break. The Creator doesn’t.” That Day the man realized: it’s not faith in ladders that saves its faith in the One who made the sky. 

Now let me step back into my own life. I’ve had nights staring at the ceiling, whispering prayers that sounded more like groans. I’ve had facts stacked up against me like court evidence. Facts said, “You’re broke.” Facts said, “You’re sick.” Facts said, “You’re stuck.” Facts love to put on suits, wave charts in your face, and say, “The numbers don’t lie.” And maybe they don’t but The Creator isn’t bound by math. I’ve watched Him silence facts with one act of grace. I’ve seen dead ends turn into detours. I’ve seen detours become new beginnings. And every time, I’ve been reminded: my faith worked because I finally stopped mailing it to dead addresses.

So let me share my favorite acronym for F.A.I.T.H: Finding Assurance in Trusting Him. Not in trusting my hustle, not in trusting my charm, not even in trusting my plans but in Him. Because everything else will eventually let you down. Jobs end. Money runs out. Friends disappear. Even your own body betrays you after a while. But The Creator? He never does.

So, here’s my word: stop wasting postage on false addresses. Don’t stamp your faith with money, politics, ego, or even your own name. Send it where it belongs. Write The Creator’s name on the envelope. Seal it with prayer. Drop it into the mailbox of trust. And when the reply comes, it won’t be a flimsy letter it’ll be a package so big it’ll not only move your mountain but give you enough shade to sit under and invite others to rest too.

---

Make A Donation