Believing Through the Unbelief

Mark 9: 2, 9, 14-29

 

 

                    A mother sits beside her son in a hospital room, waiting for doctors to figure out what is causing his seizures. A soldier writes a letter home, wondering if he will ever actually see his family again. A man stands over the grave of his child, wondering how in the world to ever smile again.  A young mother looks at her children and feels her life being strangled away from her by the daily chores of her life. Why, how, can she feel so estranged from her own flesh and blood? Each of these people is Christian. Each of them believes and trusts God. And yet, here they are. Their world has come crashing in on them and their spiritual life hangs by a thread.

          Have you been there? If you have, you know something about what I mean. If you haven’t, chances are pretty good that you will experience something like this, and probably more than once. Chances are that you, you who are here in church every week, will wonder where God is and why he has forgotten you or won’t answer you.  It happens to people of faith. It happens to people of faith, not unbelievers, because people of faith dare to hope, dare to believe in something and someone bigger than they are, and in that hope we become vulnerable.

          In the ninth chapter of Mark’s gospel, we hear the fantastic story of Jesus taking Peter, James and John up on the mountain where they have a magical experience. The scene is called the Transfiguration. Jesus is seen in a heavenly, glorified light. The disciples are amazed and sworn to secrecy. When they descend, they find a crowd gathered. As the four men approach the remaining disciples, many run up to them.

          A voice in the crowd cries out. His son is possessed by a demon. The spirit renders the boy mute. Also, he is given to violent seizures, during which he will grind his teeth, foam at the mouth and his body will become rigid. The man came looking for Jesus, but he was on the mountain. So the man appealed to the disciples.

          The disciples have healed before. They have the authority. Mark 3: 14, 15 tell us that Jesus “appointed twelve so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach and have authority to cast our demons.” In Mark 6, Jesus calls the twelve and begins to send them out two by two, giving them authority over unclean spirits. Verse 13 tells us that they cast out many demons and healed many who were sick. So the disciples were not strangers to working miracles.

          But on this day, the disciples fail. The man comes to them at his wit’s end. He can’t find Jesus, so he asks the remaining disciples and they do try. But they fail. Jesus hears the story and you can just feel his impatience. “How long am I to bear with you?” he says.

          I have been faithful. When the doctors told us we couldn’t have children and we exhausted every possible avenue to prove them wrong, I finally turned to God. I was faithful then. I was faithful when I had no other choice. When I was trying to raise four children by myself and I had no help and nowhere else to turn, I was faithful then. Whenever I have been backed into a corner, I have been faithful. I had nothing else. I’m sure God must have muttered under his breath, How long am I to bear with you?

          Jesus calls for the child to be brought to him. In the presence of Jesus, the spirit inside the boy panics. It convulses the boy, who falls to the ground and exhibits all those horrible symptoms, grinding his teeth, foaming at the mouth. Today, such symptoms would remind us of an epileptic fit, but Mark’s gospel makes it clear that this is demon possession. When Jesus asks how long the boy has suffered, he is told since the boy’s youth; in other words, a long time.

          Then, the point of this story in Mark begins to be revealed. The father says to Jesus: “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Listen to that again. If you can do anything. The man is talking to the Son of God. He is talking to a man now famous in the region for doing miracles everywhere he goes. And the father says to him: If…if you can do anything.

          What does Jesus answer? “If you can!” Jesus is saying to the man: Indeed! Don’t question me and my ability. Question yourself and your belief. Is your faith enough? “All things are possible for one who believes,” says Jesus. All things? Even this. Even this thing that your disciples failed to cure? All things?

          R. T. France, in his commentary on Mark, says that the lesson derives from a “spectacular failure to fulfill the commission which has been given to the Twelve to cast out demons.” What? The father of the demon-possessed child says to Jesus: “I believe. Help my unbelief.” Isn’t he the problem? He is the one who has not enough faith, isn’t he? Isn’t Mark’s quote of this desperate father the problem presented, the reason his son still has demons?

          Yes. The problem is stated by the child’s father. But he is not the only one who has a shallow faith. He is not the only one who failed to discern where to go to get the power to deliver his son. The man had faith, but it was not a mature faith. It was not his default position. He didn’t come from faith. He ran to faith. It was his last resort position.

          The nine disciples also had faith. They even had a commission to heal, but they had little idea how to deal with their power. Jesus was a man to them. He may have been intellectually recognized by them as the Son of God, but even so, they had no real connection as to how to access the power he had granted them. They mimicked what they had seen him do. They had the magic words and gestures, but they didn’t know how to tap the source. With Jesus gone to the mountain, they were just nine more wizards. The thing is, the nine disciples were just like the father of the demon-possessed child. They had a grain of faith, but their vision was still limited to their own horizon. They knew nothing about how to tap the power of God.

          It didn’t help any that the disciples had failed the man. It didn’t help any that a crowd was standing there to witness that failure. Those kinds of things would rock even a solid faith. In fact, this seems to be the only time in the New Testament when someone came to Jesus looking for help while still expressing doubt. Think of that in the context of the Church. At that point in history, the disciples were the Church. Now put that in present day context. A person comes to church or reaches out to a minister or to a church member, or even just observes the church or its members in action from a distance. What does he see?  What if she gets put on hold? What if they are given an appointment for a week later? What if… In a world where people are desperately trying to find something to hang onto, where the truth seems to be something we take a poll to find, the actions of the church and everyone who represents it are either going to inspire hope or just create more doubt.

          In a world of things relative, God is an absolute. People make treaties. God makes peace. Doctors relieve symptoms. God makes bodies that heal with time and care. Psychologists listen to us talk ourselves into wellness. God exorcises our demons and makes us not just well, but whole. What if those disciples had gone to God in prayer and turned the problem in faith over to him? What if the father had just believed? God was there all along, but no one knew how to tap in to his presence until Jesus showed up.

          Although it was a father of a stricken child who made the appeal, it is all of us, from the disciples there that day to every pulpit and pew in Christendom which needs to cry out: “I believe. Help my unbelief!” While it may sound paradoxical, it reflects a truth that forever lies within us. For all but the very few, we are each a mixture of both belief and unbelief. Each of us enters seasons of doubt in which our wonderful, powerful, ever-present God seems so far away, so unapproachable, so silent.

          You know, those nine disciples came off looking pretty pathetic that day. They had failed in front of a large audience.

They failed because they weren’t plugged in. They had seen Jesus do it. They had been given his commission. But they failed to understand that they never had direct authority. Their ability to heal, our ability to disciple, is always derivative. We have to plug in. In the absence of Jesus and without prayer, the disciples’ labor was in vain. The demon was strong. He was not impressed with a few men who meant well. But in the presence of Jesus, the demon had no chance.

          I suspect that after that incident, the disciples were not so impressed with their positions or themselves. Even though they had been commissioned, they had to learn the source of their power. They could do no good on their own. They had to learn how to harness the power of God. They had to learn to rely on the power of the Holy Spirit and of prayer.

          Listen to the words of Jesus. “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” Even the Son of God had to connect with God in prayer in order to do his Father’s bidding. That’s why we have so many examples in the Gospels of Jesus retreating somewhere to pray. Do you want to work for Jesus? Do you want to be a disciple? Take a lesson from the disciples. You have no power for God on your own. You have to be connected to the power source and the connection is prayer.

          I believe there is one more lesson in Mark’s story. The father of that poor child believed in the power of Jesus. He had his faith rocked by the failure of the disciples and yet, he still believed. His faith was shaken. But he managed to keep coming. He managed to find Jesus. And what did Jesus do? He took that kernel of faith and worked a miracle. “All things are possible for one who believes.”

          Have you been let down by your friends? Have you come to church and found it wanting, unable to meet your needs? You find yourself in good company today. The church, while it is the bride of Christ, is populated with people, people that, just like you, have trouble staying connected. But come. Believe, and let the church, imperfect as it is, help your unbelief.

          And when it seems to fail you for the moment, instead of looking disappointedly at your neighbor in the pew or your shepherd in the pulpit, look up. Look up and see the cross. And pray. All things are possible for one who believes.