Text: Mark 9:14–29

“I believe!” “I don’t believe!” Which is it? Ever caught in such tension? You believe, but then you are not certain that you really believe. Faith either grows strong, or it becomes weak. It never stands still. Where is your faith on a scale, say, from extra certain and strong, to weak, faltering, on the brink of unbelief? More often than not, we plead as did the man in Mk 9:24: “I believe; help my unbelief!”

He was a father. He loved his son. But the young boy was severely disabled. Otherwise healthy and strong, we presume, the lad was afflicted, thwarted—from growing up normally, from having friends, from just having fun like other kids—because he was tormented, overtaken, and dominated in his entire person by an alien spirit, a demon (vv 17–18). And this demon robbed the boy of his speech. The condition only worsened. The boy’s father was desperate. “Who can help us?” “What are we going to do?” Neighbors and friends witnessed this family’s pain, the anguish, but they kept distant, quite helpless. Meanwhile, at intervals the demon would convulse the boy’s body terribly, throw him to the ground and try to kill him, or hurl him into the lake and drown him.

In our city are located two of the nation’s fine hospitals for children, each equipped with advanced technology for treating many illnesses. No such help was available anywhere in the ancient world for this family, and even if it had been, this was no matter for technology and medicine. But the father heard what was now widely known, that our Lord healed many with various diseases, and he drove out many demons (Mk 1:34; cf. 3:22–27; 7:37). At this time, Jesus was away in the mountains. But a contingent of his disciples remained in that village. The man brought his son to them, but they could not drive out the demon (9:18). Frustrated and disappointed, this father was losing hope, losing his faith.

He and his wife could not comprehend what was happening to their son. All was out of their control. Doctors, specialists, anyone? No help! Their son would never be normal. There was nowhere to turn. How can they continue to believe in God? By the time Jesus and three of the disciples returned to that village, the man was spent. He could only heave an agonizing sigh and cry out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (v 24). Such desperation, if not answered, can lead to unbelief.

Unbelief takes many forms. Explanations abound, but few if any are good excuses for lack of faith, unbelief. In fact, God is clear in his judgment. The psalmist deplores the wicked who pursue their evil ways and in their thoughts there is no room for God (Ps 10:4). Formerly, assertive thinkers were brash unbelievers. British philosopher Bertrand Russell openly denounced faith in a series of essays headed by a piece in 1927, titled, “Why I am not a Christian” (Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian and Other Essays on Religion and Related Subjects [London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1957], 3).

Unbelief is no respecter of persons. It plays no favorites. It plagues all kinds and sorts of people. We should be alert and aware. Did not one of the disciples, Judas, entertain skepticism about the very Lord he pledged to follow? Else how could Judas become a cheap opportunist and betray our Lord for thirty pieces of silver? A story is told about a Lutheran pastor who gave a surprising if not shocking testimony shortly before he died. He had been a pastor for more than thirty years. To all appearances, he had been faithful to his calling and did all the things expected of a pastor—preached good sermons, taught stimulating classes, comforted the sick and the dying, led his congregation in ministry and mission. Yet, on his deathbed he confided to a fellow pastor and friend, “I never believed; I never believed any of it.”

Unbelief may also take the form of apathy. Once the term “atheism” tended to suggest a concrete decision, or a deliberate stance that rejects God outright. Today, the newer term “unbelief” evokes less clarity and more confusion and doubt, but also a definite condition of indifference. In the movie Charlie Wilson’s War, congressmen and their staffs, agents of the CIA, political activists, engaged in a covert war to support Muslim Afghanistan against the Soviet Union, seen as godless invaders. Most of these players claimed in one way or another to be Christians. But that identity never really mattered. Their lifestyles betrayed any link to the Christian Gospel. For such persons it can be very true: God remains something irrelevant, or practically speaking, nonexistent. This, too, is subtle rank unbelief.

Unbelief is a taunting temptation also for people who are sincere and do believe. Burdened Christians, carrying heavy crosses, desire sincerely to believe; but, they struggle to believe for the reason that they have grown weary of believing when the illness, the condition, the circumstance, the situation only seems to be getting worse. Frankly, they are spent, out of sorts, out of patience, and they are disgusted. Is there help for such believers who understandably are gripped by unbelief as a keen sense of futility?

When our Lord returned from the mountains and approached the village, his disciples were engaged in a heated discussion with certain scribes (v 14). In fact, these disciples were under attack because they could not deliver this young boy from the demon and return him to normalcy. Our Lord had empowered them to cast out demons (6:7–13). But they could not get it done here. Now Jesus arrives. Cheers fill the air. Everyone expectantly looked to Jesus. He inquires: what is all the fuss about? From the crowd, the poor man, father of the boy, calls out, “I asked your disciples to cast [the demon] out, and they were not able” (v 18). “O faithless generation!” Jesus exclaimed (v 19), probably chiding his disciples, who may have slipped into thinking such powers were their own, and such false thinking was their failure. Then Jesus looks for the boy. “Bring him to me.”

On many counts, the scene here is the greatest help, where our Lord comes upon a situation and takes command. In whatever dire circumstances, desperate and frustrating, we are never out of reach of our Lord, never beyond his presence. And where he is present, he takes command. Reading Bertrand Russell, when the philosopher criticizes the Gospels, it is obvious that not our Lord but Mr. Russell has usurped command. Russell would scoff over this scene, which Jesus comes upon when he returned from the Mount of Transfiguration. See what a mess, Jesus, your disciples have made. But not so fast, Mr. Russell. No one there in that village would join in and scoff with you. Wait and see.

The disciples default, and Jesus calls for the boy: “Bring him to me.” The disciples had been successful. On earlier occasions they had cast out demons. But here, no, they could not get it done. It seems that they themselves had slipped out of faith into unbelief. That is, the disciples took for granted the power vested in them, as if they possessed such power in their own right. Momentarily, their hubris took over. They became faithless, going on their own, and accomplished nothing. The demon would not budge, and the young boy continued to suffer. Only Jesus in this scene is believable.

Only Jesus gets it done! Mr. Russell and his ilk, skeptics, do not like narratives such as Mark 9. What happened that day is fairly indisputable. A crowd gathered. The people pressed to see the outcome. Here is a desperate father, pleading for help, crying out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (v 24). Jesus’ disciples had failed. What will Jesus himself do? The crowd grows larger, the situation is tense. There is going to be an incident here on the streets, but Jesus takes command and directs stern loud words to the demon. “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again” (v 25). What happened then caused the crowd to be aghast. The demon thrashed the boy violently, so that the lad lay on the ground. Some shouted, “He is dead!” “But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose” (v 27). The father lunged forward and reached for the boy and began carrying him to their home. Quietly, the crowd began to disperse. And when Jesus entered the house nearby, he addressed the disciples and said, “This kind [of demon] cannot be driven out by anything but prayer,” meaning complete dependence on God and his power (v 29). Not by our puny powers, but by trust in and dependence on the Lord who is believable, who gets done for his people all the great works, also the highest and most sweeping work, even our redemption, the forgiveness of our sins, by the cross, a work completed in the power of his life-giving resurrection from the dead!

Skeptics miss out because they are so busy challenging the Lord with their petty criticisms and scoffing. They miss the victory of faith. We may go from moments of faith to moments of unbelief, caught in that miserable tension. But help is at hand. The help is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who takes command, who is believable, and who acts for us powerfully as he is gracious and merciful always. Help our unbelief? Who is not helped today? From the details of this Gospel, by the Holy Spirit, there is new faith, strong faith for all.

Amen.