Lord, I Believe.

I am going to be completely honest with you–honesty is really difficult for me. Embracing vulnerability and openness is terrifying. And lately, it seems like our world applauds and even expects us to put up a front. To place our imperfections in a tightly sealed box and bury it in the deepest recesses of ourselves. To do everything we can to not let others know we are unsure or struggling.

But to grow, we must be honest. To walk alongside the Lord in all of His majesty and splendor, to experience Him in intimate and unimaginable ways, we must be open to the journey that lies ahead of us.

I recently rediscovered a verse that shook me to my very core. This particular verse is found in Mark 9:14-29 and is about a young boy who is possessed by an impure spirit. His father is distraught and comes to Jesus, desperate for his son to be healed. He describes his son’s condition–the seizures, the gnashing teeth and foaming of the mouth, and says to Jesus, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

Jesus then replies, “‘If you can? Everything is possible for one who believes.’”

The father is immediately taken aback and cries out, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

And after reading that verse, I wept. For I am like the father.

I ask the Lord to reveal Himself to me… if He can. I ask Him to perform miracles… if He can. I ask Him to bring peace to our troubled world, to heal the broken, and to make His name known to those around me… if He can.

I wept because I live a life of doubt.

But I also wept because of the utter honesty and beauty of the father’s reply. Lord, in my mind, I believe you can do all things. But Lord, my heart is troubled and full of doubt.

And although I am not coming to the Lord with my possessed son, I do come to Him with a heavy heart.

Lord, I walk outside and see your people living on the streets. Their bodies weary and their sprits broken. I see the dishonest and hateful living prosperously, but the righteous and loving are drowned out by the words and actions of the wicked. I see mothers and fathers dying, their children crying. Wars wage and people rage and I am desperately grasping for your goodness.

And I am tired of standing on a church stage singing words like “Through it all, my eyes are on you. Through it all, it is well,” and believing them in my head, but not in my heart.

But I am so thankful that despite my moments of doubt and unbelief, I serve a God whose power and faithfulness is not limited by my doubt. I serve a God who is ever patient with me, gently guiding me with His loving truth. A God who knows that the deepest desire of my heart is to know Him fully and never doubt His goodness.

So as I continue to walk side by side with Him, as I embrace honesty and openness, and eventually, as I breathe my last breath on this earth and my first in eternity, I will pray the beautifully raw prayer of a desperate father.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. 

In Him,

Gabi