The Second Half of the Story

Faith has always seemed mysterious to me, how some people can have it and others struggle to find it. There isn’t a formula or steps a person can walk through to attain it–in fact, faith is almost the opposite.  Faith is relying on somebody or something to live up to its promise, and the results are often out of one’s control. Faith is surrender, and at times, faith is frightening.

I’ve never had trouble believing in God; I find it harder to have faith in the idea that the world and all its beautiful intricacies do not point to the hand of a creator. I read the Bible, and I see prophecy after prophecy fulfilled, parallelism illustrated in books written hundreds of years apart, and the literature teacher in me delights in the richness of the pages. The words of Jesus hit me at the core, and I believe.

Something resonates in my soul, something that awakens my spirit to the idea that these words are true. And while doubts have come, they quickly wash away as sand pulled underneath the retracting tide.

While I believe, I completely understand why others don’t. No matter the number of prophecies fulfilled, historical evidence retrieved, or miracles performed, believing in the words of the Bible requires one to accept some difficult ideas: the hand of God parts the Red Sea through a shepherd’s staff, a man lives in the belly of a great fish for three days, a virgin gives birth to a son, and a Son ascends into heaven after experiencing death and life anew.

Tough ideas to wrap around one’s mind, yet I believe. I read about walls tumbling down after a group of Israelites circle them seven times; I taste the wine that Jesus made, saving a bridegroom from the embarrassment of having run out; and I wonder at the miracle of a bush aflame but not burnt.

But while I have faith in a big God and the miracles that He performed in another time, another place, I find that I don’t always have that same faith allowing me to believe He could work through me. While hearing a teaching on Gideon in church, I marveled at the faith of a man who believed God at His word that his mere army of 300 men would sufficiently destroy a Midianite army of over 100,000. I can believe that God asked someone else to trust Him, and He provided, but I can’t imagine trusting God in that way myself.

I want to be the woman who can pray and believe that what she is asking can happen. I want to be the Christian who has faith enough to act on the prompt of God, no matter the difficulty of what He asks. I want to be the person who could give up everything without knowing the next chapter in the story.

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is found in chapter nine of Mark. A man requests that Jesus, if He can, heal his demon-possessed son who has suffered since childhood. After Jesus responds that “everything is possible for one who believes,” the man cries out, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9: 23, 24, New International Version, 2010).

I get him. I understand believing in my heart that God has the power to do all He promises, but I wrestle with doubt at the same exact time. I want to believe, but I need help with my unbelief.

But I am comforted by the end of this story. Jesus does the impossible; He heals the boy. Despite any unbelief with which this man is fighting, God works a miracle. God opens the man’s eyes to His power and deals with his unbelief.

And I am no different than this man in the Bible. I have unbelief, but I also believe. And if I ask God to help me with my unbelief, He will–and that fact is scary because I don’t know what uttering those words–“God, help me overcome my unbelief!”–will mean for my life.

And I don’t know what they will mean for yours–perhaps revealing a path that points to a creator, perhaps driving you into the arms of a Savior, or perhaps giving you the courage to face the army that stands ahead–but He will answer.

Now the question is, will we make that demand? Will we demand that He help us overcome our unbelief? Because until we do, we are missing out on the second half of the story.

We’re just a mass of people waiting at the edge of the water as the Egyptian army follows ready to attack. We’re just a tired, beaten-down man waiting in the belly of a giant fish. We’re just a pregnant, unwed teenager, confused and scared.

But I’d rather walk through that path with walls of ocean in the periphery. I’d rather make it to dry ground, delivering the message God had asked I take. I’d rather know my Savior and grab hold of the courage He can give…

…help me, Father. Help me with my unbelief….

Now it’s your turn! What did you learn about faith this week? Leave a comment, or link your post below. Grab the ‘Journeys’ button from the sidebar so others can join the conversation. Thank you for your participation!

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