For Lack of Faith

In my workplace, we have the privilege of gathering each morning for a “huddle” to start our day. We review any pressing issues, then a staff member or volunteer leads the group in prayer–and once in a while, a brief devotional. It was during one of those times that a beautiful Catholic Sister, a volunteer with us, read out a verse I hadn’t given much thought to before.

“And He did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.”

Matthew 13:58

The unexpected words seeped into my heart, leaving a trail of conviction.

You see, I had recently come out of a season of big prayers, a time when I had been literally on my hands and knees asking God to move the mountains in front of me. I was asking Him for big things, things far beyond my ability. I was sure–expectant, even–believing He would do them.

Yet months had passed. Sometimes years. And the mountains remained.

The days leading up to that devotional had been wracked with doubt. I questioned whether God could and would move in the way I’d asked. I questioned my own motives for asking in the first place. I wondered whether I could have possibly heard God wrong in all the places I thought I’d heard Him speak to me through those circumstances and prayers.

I had begun to lose my faith.

As the Sister continued the devotional, she read a prayer in which she asked God to give us the courage and faith to trust Him for miracles. The thought lingered in my mind all day.

I was still mulling it over on my way home from work, praying as I drove.

“I just feel like I must have heard You wrong, Father. Surely I missed something. I thought You were in these things, but I must have been wrong.”

In that moment, I thought of Peter. He had stood at the edge of the boat, looking out as Jesus walked on the water toward him. Then he heard Jesus call him by name, inviting him out into the impossible, to walk on the water with Him. Eager and full of expectation, Peter clambered out of the boat and onto the waves. And for a moment, it was all that he hoped and believed it could be.

Until the wind began to blow. He took his eyes off of Jesus, noticing the height of the waves and the impossibility of what he was already doing–what God was already doing. He lost sight of his faith, and he began to sink. (Matthew 14:22-33)

I thought of the father who sought Jesus out, desperate for healing for his child. When Jesus told him everything was possible for those who believed, the man replied, “Lord, I believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:23-25)

I thought of the woman who’d been desperately seeking answers and healing for twelve long years, pressing through the crowds toward Jesus, reaching out just one hand to touch the hem of His clothes. She was poured out, exhausted and depleted in every way, reaching out with what little hope and faith she had left. (Mark 5:27-34)

Three very different experiences.

Perhaps you feel like one of them today. In different moments and in different ways, I’ve felt like all of them. I’ve doubted the things I knew God called me to, fixing my eyes instead on the impossibilities of the wind and the waves. I’ve been the father, crying out to God as I wrestle, both doubt and faith mingling together in my heart. And I’ve been the woman, exhausted and spent, reaching out and praying there will be something there to grasp that will change everything.

I don’t believe God requires us to have faith proportionate to the monumental thing we’re asking Him to do. In fact, He says, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,’ and it will move.” (Matthew 17:20-21) What He does require is that we have faith in Him. Not in ourselves. Not in the things we could do. Not in the people or places or finances or opportunities that could bring it to pass. Not in anything, in short, but Him.

He is the mover of mountains, the miracle worker, the God who is and does beyond what we can imagine–which is exactly the point. He stands outside of our limitations.

If you are staring down impossible mountains, lift your eyes to Him. Ask Him for the faith to overcome your unbelief. Stretch out your desperate hands and believe that there’s healing in His hem. Step out onto the waves He’s called you to. But keep your eyes on Him.

He is able. You can trust Him.