A Hopeful Lie

I lied to my mother today. An unnecessary lie that came out almost instantaneously, but I could hear the calculus in my brain of the kind of conversation that would transpire without the lie. Or was it the fact that I have been preparing for this lie for a while now or that I have gotten better at lying to myself than to others? Does it matter that I could not be forthcoming to my mother about my faith – and that I did not attend church today; that I have not attended church for a while now; that the business of churchgoing seems so removed from my immediate experience. I have valued the aspect of community, of being there for someone else – but so often it feels so hard to remain in the struggle, to cling to hope, to persist and not give in. How do we have faith when faith needs us to let go of our ego and pride?