Faith is a verb

Faith: (noun)
1. complete trust or confidence in someone or something.2 strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof.
Technically, faith is a noun. We have faith in God. Maybe, instead of God, our faith is in ourselves, our job, our skill, our country. 
I've believed in God for a long time. As a young girl, I went to church whenever I could: children's choir, drama, acolyte, youth group. I was a good little church girl. Something about church drew me in and I had to be there. I don't remember praying. I didn't read scripture often. Church was something good to do. Good girls go to church.
Throughout college and young adulthood, my prayer life began. My prayers were largely "gimme prayers" though. God, give me a new job. Help me through this day. Help me on this test. My prayers weren't often to share His love with others or to become the woman He wants me to be. Somehow, I managed to stay connected with church. I believed that being a good girl mattered. Good girls go to church. 
Early in marriage, it was hard to go to church. My husband, a medical student, rarely had Sundays off. We visited a lot of churches nearby without making any connections. Finally, we settled on attending his parents' church -- though it was 45 minutes from home. After all, good couples go to church.
When we moved to Delaware, Ohio, we floated from church to church, determined to find a good church home. Then I met Barb. Barb had a very different relationship with God. She knew Him as her friend. She trusted Him with the easy parts of life and the chaos. She knew He would carry her even in her darkest pain. Barb had been praying for a Christian neighbor. She got me. A career baby Christian. She even saw that as a blessing. (For which I'm quite thankful.) 
I didn't know it then, but as we continued our church search, Barb prayed. She prayed we would find a wonderful, living church to call home. We didn't end up at Barb's church, but we did find a living, real church home. That church wasn't about tradition and ritual. It was -- and still is -- about people loving God and sharing that love with others.
The people there loved us in a huge way. Soon after we started attending, I was put on bed rest because of pregnancy complications. Women whom I'd never met cared for our older son (then age two and still in diapers). None asked for or accepted payment. They just wanted to help. Families we didn't know brought us dinner for weeks. People took time from their busy days to visit with me or rush me to the doctor for emergency appointments. They loved us through our crisis. Our second son is here in large part because they cared. 
My faith grew in our years there. I realized I had a lot to learn. I learned about tithing. I learned about serving. I learned that church is about God, not about the building and events. I didn't really learn about pride -- though I needed to! While I didn't get far, I was becoming more than a "good girl who goes to church."
And then we moved to a new state. And 9/11 happened. All at the same time.
My faith crumbled. I cried out to God in desperation, but He didn't answer. We visited church after church while my world collapsed. I desperately wanted to find Him, but I couldn't. It wasn't that I stopped believing in God, it's just that I didn't see Him in the people at church. I felt abandoned.
And then... frustrated and ready to throw in the towel, I told my husband I'd give church one last chance. We visited C3, our church home for the past nine years. We walked through the door and everything was different. The people cared. They comforted. They dried my tears. They assured my broken heart that it would all be okay. In his sermon, the pastor challenged the people, "Will you be Jesus to that person who is giving church one last chance? Will you be the hope to the hopeless?" He included coffee, chocolate, professional baseball and college football in that sermon (four of my all-time favorite things!). God got my attention!
I knew we had found our home, but still, I didn't bounce back quickly. I had to learn that the people of the church are only human, they are not the answer. I'd put my trust in Christian people -- not in Christ. My whole life. There's a big difference!
Faith, I've discovered is not really a noun. Sure, Webster can define it that way. But God wants our actions to be faith. He wants us to love and share His hope with the world. He wants us to make a difference. But, we are not the difference. He is. He desires that we share HIS love and encourage others to get to know him. Faith is walking by completely trusting God with the highs and the lows, in the dark times and the easy times. Faith is sharing His love with the broken, hurting, hopeless ones who don't know that love.
Today, I live a different life. Not a perfect life, that's for sure. I know I don't always choose what Jesus would. I still battle pride. I battle selfishness. Inwardly, I fight between righteous rule following and grace giving love. Sometimes the rules win. Even so, I know that God is God and I am not. I may make mistakes. Sometimes big, ugly, horrible mistakes. 
But God...
Redeems. Restores. Reunites.
That's what faith really is. Trusting God. Stepping out to make a difference, one relationship at a time. Faith is a verb.