Lord, I believe, help my unbelief…
I distinctly remember the hot, late July day I was driving to Michigan to spend the weekend with family, then on to Local Pastors School in northern Ohio and finally returning home for one day before heading to South Africa for almost two weeks. I wasn’t sure why I was doing any of it. I had no desire to sit in a retreat center for 12 hour days for a long five day week of what I perceived to be more boring lectures about exactly what I was studying in seminary. I wasn’t sure why I was spending thousands of dollars to go to Africa other than it was the transcultural trip offered so I could advance towards my M.Div. If I wanted my license for pastoral ministry, I would go. If I wanted to get into the Pension System of the UMC, I would go. If I wanted to graduate with my M.Div in this decade, I would go. And if I ever wanted to be ordained, I would go. So I went. Of course, I went.
While driving the entire way to Michigan, then to northern Ohio and back home to Mason, Ohio, I was doubting the entire time. And so I prayed over and over again, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”
The words kept rushing through my head. It was the only thing I could think about. I was filled with doubt. I was doubting my calling, my purpose, and the institutional church. There had to be an easier way.
During the experience of Local Pastors School I was right about a couple of things. It was repetitive. It was long. I had obediently completed the papers before attending the week long session and my days were shorter than most because I didn’t have to rewrite any of my papers.
I was wrong about a couple of things too. During our time together my calling was affirmed by strangers. My doubt about where I was going and why was beginning to take shape and I expressed the fear I had about going to S. Africa, flying on an airplane for 24 hours and being on a different continent with a group of people I didn’t really know for nearly two weeks.
I was Peter. I doubted. I was afraid. I was sinking in a vast lake of water called doubt.
Until…
Until I got out of the car and walked into the informal settlements outside Durban, South Africa. Until I had the chance to look into the face of an AIDS orphan. Until I had the opportunity to sit with women estranged from their families because they were infected with a misunderstood, cruel disease called HIV/AIDS. Then I remembered my faith. Then I believed. Then I believed the church could make a difference in the world, transforming communities of poverty and disease into communities of hope and resilience. Then I believed I was among the faith-full called into leadership to guide, direct, and vision something different in the world. Then I believed one of the most important places our church can be is with our children, providing for them a place to experience the God who calls out, “do not be afraid, It is I.”
In a world where Fear Factor is the title of a TV show and No Fear is a label on clothing, I wonder if we have lost sight of the honest place doubt and fear have in our life to be transformative agents of change. Then maybe we would work through our doubt and boldly ask Jesus to be real in our live. Then maybe we would find our way to faith.
Faith in the one who will lift us up from the places we sink and stumble and fall over ourselves in doubt. Faith in the One who speaks and changes the course of events. Faith in the One who said, “I am” and reminds us, God IS with us.
It isn’t a promise that we will always feel the presence of God in our midst. It is a promise that God is present in the midst of our wondering and wandering. It isn’t a promise that fear will never be present. It is a promise that God is Christ is present in our fear-filled times. It isn’t a promise that we can escape the storms in life. They will come. It is a promise to focus on the one who holds us up in times that are weighing us down. It is a promise of the grace filled offer of salvation by One who is God with Us, Son of God great I am.
I have joked with many people that although ordained, I still don’t have my license to walk on water. And because of that, I need Jesus to lift me up in my times of distance and fear. I need Jesus to guide me through the times of discouragement and wonder. I need to believe in a God who can do miracles- even if God doesn’t do the miracle I desire.
I believe because in the midst of unbelief, God came near.