You are the salt of the earth, but if salt becomes tasteless what can make it salty again?
It is good for nothing, and can only be thrown out to be trampled under foot by men.
Does this mean that if we lose faith, we can never once more it attain?
Surely not: unlike salt we can again and again regain our vigour but when.

When we make the effort and try.
That is what is meant by us being the light of the world.
It is not the result, it is the journey, the key is the attempt to break the world’s tie.
Then our light is clear for all to see, our tattered banner unfurled.

We will never be the city built on a hilltop.
We will be some small hamlet on the valley floor.
But like a skier circling up a mountain bearing a torch above a distant treetop.
People will see us attempting the ascent, opening ajar a spiritual door

Our light may only be a weak flicker for those in our house.
It is enough to have tried even if our faltering faith produces such a mouse.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains,
From where shall come my help.
Now I dreamt I was climbing rugged and befogged mountains.
It was high, my head for heights is weak, I was tempted to whelp.

But in my dream I saw Christ climbing ahead of me.
He was my guide, without Him I could not safely proceed.
But strangely under His shadow I could see.
He seemed to be a shining guiding light in my need.

It happened that in the dream, I reached the summit.
Now I stood alone yet in His sight.
I had no right to be at His side, but my way had been lit.
His raiment had been multicoloured blinding bright.

The country I saw from that summit was more beautiful than any I had ever seen.
And my sight that had been failing was intensely keen.

The Lord is a God of tenderness and compassion.
Slow to anger rich in kindness and faithfulness.
Moses was on his Sinai passion.
And we too are on our own journey through life’s wilderness.

We know that history’s greatest charlatans have promised to remove mortality’s stain.
Sometimes my hope fails, is immortality after death but a dream.
Are we too carrying stones of doubt up our own mist enshrouded mountain.
Do we search there in vain to pierce a silent unforgiving cloud ready to blaspheme.

But as I listen to the soothing mass.
The gentle cadence of Gloria, credo and paternoster.
Slowly faith grows with acceptance from a half empty to half full glass.
And from this holy water doubts begin to scatter.

But every day is a new long climb up that stony mountain.
And thus I fear I never will be certain.

Do not reject me now that I am old.
When my strength fails do not forsake me.
Sometimes the ardour of faith is so cold.
Answers and certainty I but dimly see.

My lips are filled with your praise.
With your glory all the day long.
Is witness not enough if given honestly without cease.
You demand faith, but is it not enough to give praise filled song.

Is it not enough to have fought the good fight to the end.
Is it not enough to have run the race to the end.
Do you demand more, an unreasoning faith to defend
If my faith falters, to perdition will you your disciple send.

But this I hope that it is enough to have kept the faith.
In effort, in desire, even if belief is a wavering wraith.

Paul says all scripture is inspired by God and can be used profitably for teaching.
This surely is the question we constantly ask.
For the answer to the first part I am still searching.
I pray every day I may complete this task.

I fear my asking may never have an answer.
But surely scripture can be a transformer.
So I will settle patiently for the latter.
And await grace for the former.

It is not by some sudden vision.
But in trudging small steps, putting cynicism to rout.
Day by day reading, seeking, never demanding precision.
And sometimes a shaft of light will pierce the cloud of doubt.

But in myself alone I can place no trust.
It is for Your dear Holy Spirit that I must wait to dispel all distrust.

My Father if it is possible let this cup pass me by.
Nevertheless, let it be as You not I, would have it.
I heard this admission, an eternal yet all too human sigh.
And in my doubting heart a lamp was lit.

Would a God have stooped so low
To self doubt even for a moment?
His very human anguish on show.
His courage to persist despite his torment.

But is this not the demanding point.
He was truly human.
To doubt and fear is our fate, our will is so faint.
If only he was a God would he be our guiding lumen.

And For me too in that brief moment was doubt relieved.
I saw and believed.