Saturday, April 21, 2012

Unbelief

I am told often that Chase will get better, that with an element of time he will regain memory and mobility and find relief from the constant pain. However, four weeks into the injury, with limited progress and daily witness of my son’s physical struggles, weariness can set in and doubt becomes an unwanted companion.

Driving my youngest two to swim practice this morning, I found myself fighting the fear of what could be. What if Chase’s gait is permanent? What if he is never the same cognitively? What if he never runs or jumps or wrestles with his brother? What if……

My thoughts were literally interrupted by the following words, which clearly did not come from me as I am not nearly that smart or insightful:

“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.”

In Scripture, this verse is the cry of a father desperate for healing for his son.

Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”

“From childhood,” he answered.“It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:21-24)


I can relate to this parent’s heart. I am a believer, steady in my faith, yet in the midst of difficulties uncertainty creeps in when I am most vulnerable. Watching pain in my child and I cannot offer relief. Answering questions that begin with why and my response feels so weak. The truth of the matter is that the outcome, the end result, which God already knows, may not coincide with the desires of mine.

I do believe, but what if he doesn’t fully recover?

And you may have experienced similar:

I do believe, but what if my husband never comes back?
I do believe, but what happens if my child always rebels?
I do believe, but what if the bills outweigh the income?
I do believe, but what if the cancer continues to spread?

It is the “buts” and the “what ifs” that interrupt my faith with fear. And fear is not from God. It takes intentionality and spiritual focus to reclaim what I know to be true. My security and that of my son’s is going to come from one place, the foundation of which is built on three powerful words: I do believe. I have to believe that His perfect plans supersede my hopeful ones and that the end result is good – very good.

I do believe, even if he doesn’t fully recover.
I do believe, even if my husband never comes back.
I do believe, even if my child rebels.
I do believe, even if the bills outweigh the income.
I do believe, even if the cancer spreads.

I do believe. Not only does it have to be enough, it has to be everything.

Even if it doesn’t look a thing like I had hoped.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

yep, you hit the nail on the head with that one. Life is...it may not look like what we want. hard to not think this sucks all the time. you're doing great if if you think you aren't. keep on keeping on.
m

kitten said...

Joni, I know that at the best of times it is difficult to LEAVE
important things in God's hands. However, I have learned
that God does know better than I and that He is able to do
anything. Just as I left Daniel in God's hands during his
time of struggle, I have left you and Chase in God's hands.
He is in control and I know that regardless of the
outcome, God will take care of everything. I do
love you and yours. If you need anything, we are only
a phone call away. Kitten

jess said...

Just wanted to say that we are praying for you and your family and your boy - who now has another incredible story of God's goodness and faithfulness to tell for the rest of His life.

As I was reading this post, I remembered a song that has meant so much to me in the past few months. Here's a link that I hope will take you to Noisetrade.com, where you can listen to the whole song - https://www.noisetrade.com/redmountainmusic. It's called "Help My Unbelief" by Red Mountain Church.

Praying and sending our love. -JB

mx said...

Thank you for your honesty... expressing the cry of so many... and the truth woven in so beautifully to hold it (us) all together. We are praying for Chase and all of you.