Faith is invisible.
It cannot be attained simply by deciding, “I must believe.”
Faith is like a quiet accumulation of grace and truth,
until one day it crosses a threshold set by God—
and only then does it truly become active faith.
I remembered a chemistry experiment from my school days.
A transparent test tube held a yellow solution,
and I dropped yellow droplets in, one by one.
One drop, two drops… up to the fifth, no change occurred.
But the sixth drop made the solution suddenly turn red.
Faith works the same way.
At first, nothing seems to change.
Yet the moment we pass the threshold of grace ordained by God,
our inner color transforms:
fear turns into peace, doubt becomes assurance.
A flickering light that never goes out
John Bunyan placed a character named Little Faith on the pilgrim’s path.
Hailing from the village of Honesty, he was a soul pure and sincere.
Yet his pilgrimage stalled beside a quiet stream.
Simply resting his eyes, he became vulnerable—
and three robbers attacked.
They beat him and stole his purse,
threatening even his life.
Little Faith fell helplessly,
his face etched with fear.
Yet no robber could steal what was most precious within him—
the treasure of heaven: the assurance of salvation.
Hope asked,
"He was so terrified—how could he protect that treasure?"
Christian quietly replied,
"It was not by his own strength.
It was God’s providence that held him fast."
Little Faith is fragile.
He wavers before temptation,
falters before trials.
Yet never once did he lose the essence of salvation.
I thought of a devout member of our church:
a person who has clung to the truth for many years.
Yet in political debates, his emotions surged uncontrollably:
"This administration is controlling the media!
This is worse than the old military dictatorships!"
His anger was understandable.
But I realized clearly in that moment:
the devil enters through gaps of anger.
Even small cracks can steal the joy and peace of faith.
Today, many believers stand in the place of Little Faith.
Worldly robbers—
Unbelief, Greed, Fear—
invade our hearts,
stealing treasures of joy, peace, and grace.
Yet there is no shame in having little faith.
Even the disciples of Jesus had small faith.
Thomas, for instance:
he could not believe until he saw the resurrected Lord.
"Because you have seen me, you have believed?
Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." (John 20:29)
Peter, too, walked on water but began to sink when he saw the wind.
"Lord, save me!" he cried.
Jesus immediately reached out and caught him.
"You of little faith, why did you doubt?" (Matt 14:31)
Jesus’ rebuke was not condemnation.
It was a loving call to lift the wavering.
Faith may be small.
It may waver.
But what matters most is:
the hand of God holding that little faith never lets us go.
Another figure was Nicodemus.
A wealthy and respected Pharisee,
he was fearful of openly believing in Jesus,
so he came to Him secretly at night.
"Rabbi, you are a teacher come from God."
Within this confession lay a faint spark of faith.
Jesus said to him,
"Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
Nicodemus was intelligent,
but his faith was still small.
Yet that tiny ember
quietly flared years later,
in his hands, carrying spices at the time of Jesus’ burial.
For many years, I lived as a scientist.
In the lab, I observed the order of cells under a microscope;
through telescopes, I observed the order of the cosmos.
And at the root of that order,
there was always the light of the Word.
One physicist I met said,
"Half of all Nobel laureates believe in God."
That statement moved me deeply.
Even scientists, standing at the pinnacle of reason,
fall silent before the mystery of creation.
Karl von Weizsäcker,
who studied stellar nuclear fusion, confessed:
"In the laws governing the universe,
I see the fingerprints of God."
Faith is not the opposite of science.
It is the beginning of humility,
recognizing the “invisible hand.”
At the beginning, light burst forth from God’s fingertips.
Across 13.8 billion years, His love has never waned.
A distant star, the morning star Earendel,
traveling 12.9 billion light-years,
shines before our eyes today—a miracle shaped by time,
a fleeting story that traveled at the speed of light.
If the universe’s timeline were compressed into a single year:
On January 1 at midnight, the Big Bang dances.
In early September, the blue planet Earth is born.
In mid-September, the first breath of life touches the land.
Two hours before midnight, humanity’s ancestors emerge from darkness.
Twenty-three seconds before, a farmer sows seeds.
Just before midnight on December 31, God comes to this earth in human form.
Through that long thread of time,
His love continues even now.
The breath of the Holy Spirit,
whether 13.8 billion years ago or today,
resonates with the same pulse of love.
He is the Alpha and Omega,
the Beginning and the End.
On the canvas of the universe, my existence is but dust,
yet within His hand, we are connected to infinite light.
"Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom." (Luke 12:32)