My faith is born of trusting, in increasing measure, my own perception, seeing proof over many years that spirit exists. The proof I've found has been very gentle; if I hadn't been actively seeking truth, it would have slipped by unnoticed. Over the years I have turned so many problems over to God, and have been filled with wonder by the results. I have set an intention about creating something, often using one of the tools discussed in this blog, and watched it come into being, with amazing accuracy. When I've asked, I've been answered. My knocks were so very quiet, in the beginning, but heard.
I realized this morning that my confidence in spiritual truth developed without my even really noticing the scope of it, as I was raising my kids, living my life, doing all of the things we do. My trust grew slowly through seeking and finding so many small answers, living a very ordinary life. I know spirit as the eternal creator within each of us, and I trust that part of us just as if I could reach out and feel the physical density of it. I've needed proof, sought it, and found it.
When I look at spiritual energy clairvoyantly, as color, there is density to it; there is hue and pattern. It looks physical. When I reach my hands out to feel the spiritual energy around a person, the aura, it has density, firm and steadfast in places or light and barely there. But it is there.
I love that place in my awareness where spirit is made real in the physical world by my senses. I guess it's the part of me that keeps wanting proof. Or maybe it's not so much that I keep needing proof, myself, but that I'd like for others to have it. I'd love for all of humanity to know themselves, and each other, as Gods.
I remember years ago attending a class at the Berkeley Psychic Institute on telekinesis, a very little-used spiritual ability. There were about 300 people in a big lecture hall. The instructors had bags full of spoons and forks, which they passed out. After some discussion, we all set about trying to bend them, using our telekinetic ability. I spent some time intent on bending my spoon, with no luck. When I looked up, I saw people around me twisting the tines of their forks like they were playdough. It was one of those moments when the paradigm shifts and nothing is ever the same again.
Class ended and I was walking down a street in Berkeley, spoon unchanged, returning to the car with the people I'd ridden with. I was talking with one of them; he had been able to bend his spoon. I was holding my spoon, looking at it, listening to him explain about releasing effort from my 3rd chakra, when my spoon bent over in half, like butter, then stopped, solid again. It happened in about half a second. I stood on that street corner in Berkeley shrieking, happy to have witnessed that, but also happy to have been able to do it!
That is a pretty dramatic instance of proof, and it makes a good story. But it isn't the most compelling bit of proof I've encountered that we are God expressing in human form. Those have come from countless small moments of hoping, with just the tiniest amount of faith in the possibility that I can create the outcome, and having it be so.
May your knocks be heard!