Mtr Mary Trainor

I believe; help my unbelief. Mark 9:24

In today’s Daily Office reading from Mark (9:14-29) we encounter a sick child, a desperate father, a frustrated Jesus, and disciples who fail.

Jesus came down from the mountain on which he was transfigured in the presence of Peter, James and John. The descent complete, Jesus and friends once again were on flat land, where they noticed a disturbance. A crowd surrounded the other disciples. When Jesus was spotted, the crowd flocked to him. What is the trouble, Jesus asked? The desperate father spoke. It’s about my boy. He is sick, possessed by a violent and relentless spirit. Your followers here could not help him. Can you? Frustrated by the disciples’ failure, Jesus answered: All you need to do is believe.

I do believe, the desperate father said; help my unbelief. Jesus ordered the spirit to leave the boy. After some thrashing about, the spirit departed, and Jesus lifted the exhausted child by the hand and raised him to his feet.

I believe; help my unbelief.

When I was around nine years old, my mother set about teaching my brother and me about Jesus. We were an unchurched familywith parents who were self-proclaimed Christians. Drawing upon her Southern Baptist upbringing, our mother began a short course in Christian formation. She used the Bible and also used tracts and other written materials from her Southern Baptist preacher brother. It was frightening stuff, like burning forever in a lake of fire, to name one terrifying lesson. But almost more terrifying was the language about accepting Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and savior in order to be saved. My nine-year-old mind couldn’t figure that out. I fell in love with Jesus from the first story I ever heard. But this other language was complicated. What did it mean to accept Jesus--as my personal Lord and savior--so that I could be saved? Then there was the worrisome counter question: if I could not do this, was I not saved? I supposed that is where the lake of fire came in.

Because I couldn’t make sense of it, I feared it meant I didn’t believe and therefore wasn’t saved. That’s a lot to process for a nine-year-old. I grieved deeply over the perceived loss of my new friend Jesus. My suffering could have been avoided if only someone had told me that belief and unbelief are natural partners in an ongoing life conversation.

How did poet Khalil Gibran put it? Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.

The desperate father with the sick child approached Jesus because he thought Jesus could help. Yet when Jesus named belief as the condition of healing, the desperate father wavered: I believe; help my unbelief.

The Good News in our text today? A vital clue to what salvation looks like: Jesus healed the sick boy, even as the desperate father was still asking, help my unbelief.

That is the Jesus I fell in love with. It is the one I love yet today.

Mtr. Mary