READ : Mark 9:14-29
Immediately the father of the child cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (v. 24)
There ought to be an awkward silence just after we stand on Sunday morning and say boldly, “I believe . . .” We need enough of a silence to leave room for the confession, “I believe; help my unbelief.” Belief is not only intellectual assent to some point of doctrine but also a lived reality. The best kind of believing always involves a particular way of living. When we say, “I believe in God the Father almighty . . .” it ought to mean more than just that I agree with a certain set of statements. It ought to mean I agree with a certain set of statements that change the way I live.
Truth be told, what we verbally affirm does not always correspond with the life we live. It would be best if we borrowed the confession of the father of the demon-possessed child: “I believe; help my unbelief.” When the statements we proclaim are contradicted by our lives, I believe; help my unbelief. When the tenets of our faith remain locked in the sanctuary on a Sunday morning and never show up in the office on Monday, I believe, help my unbelief. When the ties that have bound Christians for centuries start to loosen in our lives, I believe; help my unbelief.
Father, I confess I do believe; help my unbelief!