I turn the verse over in my mouth and mind, like a peppermint candy, til there is a snowflake-like round skeleton of truth left. It's the barebones of faith: Abraham believed and it was credited to him as righteousness.

Abraham + belief = righteousness

I am not so sure it works the same for me.

My faith only seems to equal misinterpretation and misconception. I think this yesterday when I hear that she died suddenly, leaving behind a four year old, a four day old, and a husband. I think this last night surrounded by friends and a long, hard conversation. I think this driving to work today, shouting along with David Crowder again: Are we left here on our own? Can you feel when your last breath is gone?

I think this when I think that it is my faith that pushes me around, stumbles around, turns me around and stuns me into some sort of righteousness. Without my knowledge. I am faltering, failing, fearing, and then I am realizing and it is righteousness that is my realization. But not my own, not the marriage of my faith and works. This isn't righteousness.

Abraham had faith. He believed, but didn't become righteous. He was credited with righteousness. He got something he didn't deserve by doing something that wasn't natural. Like a paper-doll, he was clothed with it. It dressed him and completed him, but wasn't of him.

So when I begin thinking that it is my faith that makes me righteous, I stumble badly.

God doesn't see me when He sees me. He sees Christ. He sees the goodness of Christ dressing me. He credits me with Christ just because I say I want it. Because I believe. This strange math doesn't make sense, but it makes believers, and so I believe it.