Yesterday, I preached a sermon from 2 Corinthians 5 about walking in faith. Faith is certainly a topic of great conversation in religious circles, but let me suggest that all of life, whether you’re religious or not, is filled with faith commitments.

The summer I graduated from college, I took a trip to Fiji to visit my family for six weeks. I’m still a bit salty that they went to live in Fiji without me, but a six-week graduation present was a pretty good consolation prize. Consider with me some of the ways faith was involved in this trip.

First, I had never been to Fiji, but I took my parents’ word for it that it was indeed a real place. I couldn’t rely on my own senses or experience, but relied on the word of those who had experienced the reality of this place.

Second, I had to trust the plane. It was a nice plane with comfortable seats. But was the engine well-maintained? Did the avionics work properly? Was the pilot skilled? Was he sober? I didn’t know for certain the answer to any of those questions, but I had faith the plane would convey me to my final destination.

Third, I had faith that when the plane landed, I would not be turned away. I trusted that my papers were in order, that my passport would be accepted, and that after a short walk through customs, I’d be allowed to leave the airport. I also trusted that my family would be there to greet me and hug me – it had been months since we’d seen each other.

Lastly, I had faith that the destination would be worth the cost of the ticket. I don’t remember the price of the ticket, but it was not cheap. I could have used it as a down payment on a car, to furnish my next apartment, or for a multitude of other things. But I believed the trip was worth it.

Each of those things I didn’t know for certain, not in the same way I know 1+1=2. None of them were blind leaps either – I had good evidence that Fiji existed, that the plane would make it, that the passport would be accepted, and that the whole thing would be worth it. I knew my parents wouldn’t lie to me (they had no reason to do so), I knew there were very few plane crashes, and I knew I’d have a great time seeing my family again because we love each other and always have a great time. I had evidence, not proof, and based on that evidence, I stepped out in faith. And it was amazing.

There are parallels between that trip and my journey to my true home, the home God has prepared for me with him for all eternity.

I must trust that an eternal home not built by human hands but by God exists. I have not seen it yet, but trust the accounts of those who know – Jesus mainly. Would Jesus lie to me? No, I do not believe so. He died for me. Why would he lie to me? Also, the apostle Paul, who met Jesus. Could Paul have lied? He was human; he could have. But he died a martyr’s death, believing he had actually met the risen Lord and that he’d be welcomed into his eternal home when his earthly tent was torn down. On good authority, I have reason to believe that this home does exist. Moreover, I trust God to convey me safely to this eternal dwelling. I trust Christ’s payment to be sufficient, and I trust Christ, my Good Shepherd, to watch over me as I journey. I trust the efficacy of my baptism in which I was sealed for God. I trust the Spirit who continues his transforming work to fit me for my eternal home will preserve me until the end. I trust that when I arrive, I will be welcomed by my Heavenly Father as the prodigal was welcomed. And, having counted the cost, I trust that all the things of this world I have died to will not compare to the eternal weight of glory which I stand to inherit on my arrival.

I know these things by faith and have good reason to believe them all. Having believed them to be true, how now shall I live?