Fearless Faith

Many of us feel shackled when pondering what to do with hundreds, even thousands, of photos and slides accumulated over decades. It only takes a few minutes of perusing old images for nostalgia to set in, and more often than not, the pictures are unceremoniously returned to their filing place/drawer/shoebox knowing that today just isn’t the right day to sort memories and give them their due. Photos and slides represent a snapshot of our lives in the moment, and a cause for contemplation.

The Portuguese have a word for that sense of melancholy or longing that comes upon us in uncertain moments … “saudade” (so-dah-che’). Although there is no direct translation into English, one favored definition that continues to inspire is “the love that remains when something has gone.” It can be both emptying or fulfilling depending on how it is approached. Looking back, I am certain that much love remains from the patience of my father in teaching me to use a camera, something that inspires still.

Some of the slides I personally struggle with letting go include the first few ever taken by me on an old Argus 35mm camera. The manual settings taught me about shutter speed, aperture, depth of field, and how to frame a shot without the digital editing we take for granted today, on our telephones no less. The images were taken as the result of a picnic outing at the Denver Zoo and the week-long wait for the developed slides to be returned to our local drug store was almost more than a seven-year-old could endure. The yellow Kodak sliding box within a box had just become a gateway to the world or at least at Denver City Park.

How, then, to decide what is worth keeping? Obviously, the duplicates and those with little family value, or just plain awful ones, are the first to go. Scenics, landscapes and flowers follow in short order. Let’s face it, one can only have so many shots of Mt. Rushmore or other monuments. They’re not going anywhere soon. Some are of historical value over time such as a series of pictures when Lake Meade’s storage basin was at full capacity. Some photos might need to be revisited before action is taken in their regard. It need not happen all at one sitting.

What is left is a distillation of images most valued. The process of discernment begins anew until what remains are the pictures worth scanning or placing on memory devices that take consume minimal space and that can be affordably copied and stored electronically. Storing pictures on digital media has the advantage of also reducing paper waste in a world of finite resources.

What will be your strategy when decades of tradition and perceived importance of the church in general are too much to blindly bear? What baggage has accompanied your faith journey? Are you willing to declutter by letting go of things that get in the way? The pictures embedded in our hearts can be formidable. It’s time to take a hard look at what Christianity has to offer, and in our most lucid moments of steadfast faith, be willing to resolve what is worth keeping and what is not.