Former Blackout Artist

“How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father. He replied, “Since he was a little boy. The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.” “What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.” The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!”
Mark 9:21-24

We would do well to take note of the father’s cry for help to Jesus. For how often it is that we too find ourselves trying to draw waters of faith from a barren well?

“Lord, I believe; but help me overcome my unbelief!” Here is a confession which lays bare the true condition of many a heart that names the name of Christ. There is faith – and yet there is unbelief. There is trust – and yet there is doubt. There is light – and yet much remaining darkness.

Let us observe, first, that true faith may be very weak. The man who spoke these words had faith enough to bring his afflicted child to Christ. He believed that help might be found in Him, else he would never have come at all. And yet he’s painfully conscious that his faith is mixed with much unbelief. He doesn’t conceal it. Nor does he attempt to mask his weakness with clever words. He confesses it plainly before the Lord.

It is just so with many of God’s children. They are often cast down because they don’t feel their faith to be strong. They imagine that unless their trust is unwavering and triumphant, it cannot possibly be genuine. But they forget that the smallest spark is fire, and the weakest faith is still faith, if it is directed toward Christ. The trembling hand which touches the hem of His garment is as truly saved as the strongest grasp that clings to Him with full assurance.

Let us observe, secondly, that the right response to weak faith is to bring it to Christ. The father does not turn away in despair because of his unbelief. He doesn’t resolve to strengthen himself before seeking help. Instead, he carries his very weakness to the Savior. “Help me overcome my unbelief!” he cries. He makes his deficiency itself the subject of his prayer.

Here is wisdom indeed. If we wait until our faith is strong before we come to Christ, we shall never come at all. The very sense of need is our cause to draw near. We must bring not only our burdens, but also our doubts; not only our sins, but also our coldness of heart. Christ is not only the author of faith, but also its sustainer and increaser. What we lack, He is both able and willing to supply.

Let us observe, lastly, that Christ is gracious toward those who come to Him in this spirit. There is no rebuke recorded for the man’s imperfect faith. There’s no refusal to hear his request. The Lord answers his need and delivers his child. So it is still. He does not despise the day of small things. He remembers that we are dust, and deals tenderly with those who are honest about their weakness.

Let us go and do likewise. Let us not be ashamed to confess the poverty of our faith. Let us not pretend to a strength we do not possess. Instead, let us come boldly to the throne of grace, saying, “Lord, I believe; but help me overcome my unbelief.” Such a prayer, offered in sincerity, shall never be made in vain. For He who invites us to come is both gentle and mighty – able to receive the weakest believer, and to make him strong.