is a braid made of several necessary strands. It is not all one thing. It is possible to say, “I believe! And yet, I want to believe better or more.” Belief is not merely an idea that naturally occupies its position because it is obvious that it must. Belief is not a guaranteed arrival, though we sometimes speak like it is, like –
Well obviously the earth is round! And
All of the news can’t be wrong! And
Of course my friends want what’s best for me…

Each of these requires some blend of two or more strands from observation, experience, trust, prior knowledge, disposition, attitude, values, cultural narratives or other (things). To make the braid-situation hairier, none of those (things) is of one kind. There are keen observations, sloppy and distracted ones, and a grip of other degrees between. Experience might be a sum of one engagement, thirty-two or fifty-thousand. Trust may be well-founded or misplaced; prior knowledge may be introductory or extensive; a disposition may be gullible or perhaps it is skeptical. And on and on,
and on our belief inputs range in composition and degree.

And I know that I do not have a uniform standard for developing and holding a belief, even for things that might be kind of similar or of a similar kind. Like there may be inconsistency in how I arrive at my beliefs about the safety of flying, owning a pit bull, my child jumping on a trampoline, or (there used to be one about) wearing seatbelts (right?).

We hold beliefs dear. They hold us just as much. Do you believe me?

If you tell me that you love me, I can believe you or not believe you. Your matriculating actions become patterns – diagonal lines of responsibility and care, a Morse code of selfishness or selflessness, undulating waves of negotiated plans for now and down the road. I continually believe, re-believe, or un-believe you, by choice, as you do me, because our interactions are but raw material for me to do something with. Belief is made of decisions.

My mind can only hold so much, though, and these eyes only see so far. So far as I can gather and comprehend images and recordings of you in my memory, I always know I only know you in part. Outward actions stand out but I cannot literally see your heart. Your evinced person is all the evidence that I have, but evidently I have to have faith in some nucleating arc of our relationship. I think that I see who you are, but who are you really (or, who might you become as you come into view?)? Belief is made of trust.

I also know, however, that material ism't* enough. Scientific solutions can settle matters for our wondering, wandering minds, but only if they present us with a good and worthy process – if the faith that I must step into from the dock of proofs is preceded by sturdy plancks. Then, that science anchors me. But my scientific solutions can also settle, leaving a sediment of metals which had previously presented no real danger. They were diffuse – outnumbered by particles a-trillion-to-one. The safety of the faith I can't escape depends upon the cleanliness of the waters. I come to know you in our relationship, and I trust you as we swim, but there are matters to settle regarding settling. My thinking and feeling can become tumultuous and perilous when (things) are out of order. I can think or feel wrongly, but I can also think or feel rightly at the wrong time***. So, belief involves suspension, too. 

(Not even) finally, my ability to judge in any of this is dependent on my purity of heart****. (‡You know how we are perhaps so used to hearing the word wealth in relation to the word wealthy that we can mistakenly think wealth always means “rich”? But wealth only means something like “whatever level of amount-ness your possessions equal.” Likewise, the word diet might be so attached to the idea of “changing eating so as to lose weight” when really it just means “the stuff you regularly eat.” [I’ve sometimes had a steady diet of bread, hummus, spring mix, and cheese. Other times my diet is rather composed of ice cream.] Purity of heart does not have to mean is or isn’t – all or none. Neither does it have to mean goodie or not goodie, holy or un-, or whatever moralizing opposites might have leapt into your heart or mind [if that happened to you]. For this long record, you may not have had that reaction – that leap – that impurity of heart, as far as that moment was concerned. If, by chance, you did, there is no need to hear condemning words. That might be the fingerprint of bias+ – one that interferes with understanding but which can totally be wiped, freeing the monocle. It may be a song in the background which is aberrant in the moment, distracting from the ability to hear what is being said.) We do not here need to think of pure as one objective destination, but rather, purity as a description of composition. How much competing material is there in my readiness array? In my readiness to observe,
my readiness to consider,
my readiness to decide and to trust and to, well, all of it.

What state am I in? What state I am in is absolutely part of the composition of belief.

Any exhortation to believe, well considered, is made with understanding that it is not always easy to believe. Believe me.

*That's on purpose
**That's on purpose (pt.2)
***Well, I guess that's wrongly too.
****Whoa, whoa, whoa – don’t worry. It’s ok; you are ok. Go back up there and keep reading. It doesn’t have to mean what you might have heard.‡