I Want to Believe, but I Just Don't

The American Church has an honesty problem (I, in no way, exclude myself from that statement). 

Week after week, millions of us fill seats, pews, and benches proclaiming our love and faith in a God we can't see.  There's nothing wrong with this at all, in fact, I encourage it.  However, often times there is a massive disconnect between what we proclaim with our mouths and what we feel in our heart. 

Walk into any church on a Sunday morning and ask someone how they are doing and the response will invariably be, "Good.  And how are you?"  I've been a pastor for almost 10 years and I can say without reservation that there have been times where my response of "good," couldn't have been further from the truth (any pastor that denies this same thing is lying by the way). 

The response I wanted to give was, "I'm miserable actually, thanks for asking."  Or, "I'm really struggling with my faith right now, I could use some prayer."  But we can't do that can we?  Our American pride almost always gets in the way of our honesty. 

We can't for one second let our guard down for anyone to see that we might have a weakness.  I'm assuming we can all agree that even if we fool our friends and neighbors with our dishonest response, we surely aren't fooling God, right?  Can we all just agree that sometimes the best we can give God looks a whole lot like nothing?  So what is God's response to all of this?  The answer might surprise you. 

In the gospel of Mark, we find an interesting story.  Jesus is walking along when a man approaches him with his demon-possessed son.  Apparently this father isn't too keen on leaving his son in this possessed state, so he asks Jesus for some help.  His next words aren't exactly a lesson in courage and confidence.  "But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."  Jesus' response is sort of predictable, but important nonetheless.  "'If you can'?  Everything is possible for one who believes."

And there it is.  Let's face it, we can probably all put ourselves in this guy's shoes.  The reality is that, at his very best, he is totally skeptical that Jesus can do anything to help.  Jesus' words honestly don't seem too helpful, and this father's next words show exactly what he thought of Jesus' words.

"I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"  Did you catch that?  Let me rephrase it: "I do believe, but really I don't."  To put another way, "I want to believe, but I just don't right now.  That's about the best I can do right now."  If I'm Jesus, my response looks something like this, "Sorry about your luck, Jack.  Call me when your faith is stronger."

But Jesus doesn't send him away.  He heals his son.  He accepts the fact that this guy doesn't perfectly believe, and he responds with grace.  My guess is this view of God that Jesus gives us doesn't really jive with what a lot of us grew up believing.  A lot of us grew up with the idea that until we had all of our crap together, we couldn't dare to approach God.  The predominant idea is that until we stop ___________ and start ___________, God keeps the door of the hospital closed.  This would be the equivalent of telling a guy with a broken femur not to come into the emergency room until it heals itself and he can walk.

The reality is that God takes us as we are, not as we think we should be.  Sometimes (probably more than we would like to admit) the best we can do is "I want to believe...I just don't right now."  Maybe some of us aren't even to that point yet and the best we can say to God is, "I want to want to..."  God is cool with that too, but let's at least be honest.

God can't work with a dishonest heart, because it remains closed to the ultimate reality of all of humanity: there are things in us that need healing.  Be open with God.  Be honest with God.  What you'll find is a God who takes your unbelief and works miracles through it anyway.

My Email: awaken.oswego@gmail.com