If

If ?
If? Audio/Visual 

“How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father. He replied, “Since he was a little boy. The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.” “What do you mean, ‘If I can?’” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.” The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:21-24)

Imagine you had this killer ministry going on where you were healing hospitals full of sick people every day; casting out demons right and left. Then, one day, a dad brings his son to you and right there in front of your very eyes the boy has a seizure. So, you do what you’ve always done – you whip off your jacket to expose the “S” on your T-shirt, say what you’ve been saying, and pray like you’ve been praying and ….. nothing. So, you clear your throat, and you say what you’ve been saying, but just a little louder, and you pray what you’ve been praying, but just a little harder and …. crickets. The boy’s convulsing, the dad has this deer-caught-in-the-headlights kind of look on his face, and you? Kryptonite.

So, what do you do? Do you just figure that the boy must have had some sort of un-confessed sin in his life and that’s what’s causing the disconnect? If so, that’d be like saying that sin can stop the power of God, which you know isn’t true – if that were true then no one could be saved. Or, do you declare the boy’s been healed, even though he’s still writhing on the ground? Try that and the father would think you were nuts. How about simply being puzzled? Now there’s an honest reaction, and that would be the same reaction the disciples had when they were confronted with this very situation.

But the story’s kind of mysterious because many of us would like to know just a bit more about the circumstances. For instance, where’s the mom? Was he a single dad? How old is the boy? Is he a toddler, a teenager or a young adult? And where’s the medical records and his chart? Is there a doctor in the house? Have we nothing to go on in terms of a possible diagnosis? Maybe we should just call House – he always seems to figure this stuff out in an hour’s time on TV. There’s just so little information about this incident that we tend to make stuff up to help us fill in the gaps in our imaginations.

The story is actually pretty simple. A man brings his demon-possessed son to Jesus’ disciples to be healed. They can’t, so the boy is brought to Jesus while a crowd gathers, at which time the boy convulses and the crowd collectively gasps. When asked, the dad tells Jesus that this has been going on for a long time, and that the boy’s been close to being burned alive or drowned more times than he can count. And then he says to Jesus, “Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.” (Pause) And then Jesus, with those olive-brown eyes, maybe stared at the dad and the dad’s thinking, “Uh oh. This can’t be good.” “What do you mean “If,” Kimosabe?”

There are at least two points to be noticed in this story. The first is that Jesus was helping the dad to understand that the issue was not with Jesus’ power, but with the man’s faith. Obviously, the man had some faith in Jesus or he wouldn’t have bothered to bring the boy in the first place. Or, maybe he was just desperate and willing to try anything. But, for whatever reason, his trust wasn’t at the level it needed to be. He still had some doubts. Maybe he was growing in his faith; but the fact is, he was struggling. Been there?

Second, Jesus’ affirmation that “Anything is possible if a person believes” must be read within the context of the circumstances in which the statement was made. The Lord wasn’t saying that anyone can do anything if they only believe. That’d be like saying you can spread your arms and fly off the Coronado Bridge like an eagle, if you believe. But regardless of what you believe, you’ll drop like a bag of cement into San Diego bay and maybe, if you’re lucky, live to tell about it.

In response to Jesus’ challenge, “If?” the father cries out with the sort of agony that only a parent could know, “I do believe; but help me overcome my unbelief!” But that’s kind of a strange statement because it’s internally inconsistent, right? Well, maybe. But Jesus, rather than condemning the man for a faith overwhelmed by doubt, immediately rebuked the unclean spirit and commanded it to leave the boy — never to enter him again. In fact, the exorcism was so complete that the crowd thought the boy was dead. The spiritual confusion of the father, however, is so typical of the intellectual and emotional turmoil that can plague any one of us at any given moment in time. Let’s face it, no one has a “red-hot” faith around the clock. For instance, we know there’s a God who made us because the evidence is so overwhelming that only a fool could deny it. (Psalm 14:1; Rom. 1:20-23) And, intellectually, we know that God cares for us because the giving of his Son as a sacrifice for our sins is ample evidence of that fact.

But sometimes we hurt so badly, physically, spiritually and/or emotionally, that our hearts overpower our heads. Agony pushes logic aside and we begin to “think” with our feelings. Oh, we still believe, but we’re angry because we feel neglected. We can’t understand why God doesn’t rush to our rescue. So, we pout and refuse to talk to him. And then we think we’ll punish God further by refusing to go to church. We may even say harsh things to him, almost literally shaking our fist in his face. The truth is that it’s at times like these that we need to get a grip. We need to cry out, “Lord, help me overcome my unbelief!” We need to ask for his patience. We need to weep. We need to analyze our situation and consider whether we’ve contributed to our own delinquency. But what we absolutely must not do is give in to our frustration. Because once we quit struggling with our faith, and then let it slide, we’re headed down a slippery slope that could lead to eternal ruin.

A lot of us think of faith and unbelief as opposite ends of the same rope. But, according to Jesus, it’s possible to believe and doubt all at the same time. “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but you can also say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done.” (Matt. 21:21) You see, what the father was saying is that he had faith, but he also had unbelief. And his unbelief had paralyzed his faith. It’s kind of like having two teams of horses hooked up to the same wagon and pulling in opposite directions. One team negates the other and you get nowhere.

So, after identifying the problem, i.e., unbelief, Jesus later assured the disciples that their faith was not the issue. In fact, even if their faith was the size of a little mustard seed it was sufficient to move mountains. The real obstacle was their unbelief. Later in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus even called them an “unbelieving and perverse generation.” (vs. 17:17) It’s like Jesus was saying, “You had faith, but it was undermined by your unbelief.” Now, some translations interpret “unbelief” as “little faith.” For instance, Jesus’ answer in Matthew 17:20 begins, “Because of your little faith” – at least in some translations. But it makes for a poor translation as it makes Jesus sound like he’s contradicting Himself. The Greek word for unbelief (apistia), as used in Matthew 17:20, is the same word used by the boy’s father when he says, “Help me overcome my unbelief.” So, although some translators equate unbelief with little faith, Jesus – it would appear – is saying that little faith is not the issue since if a little faith can move a mountain, it can surely heal a demon-possessed boy.

In other words, it’s not the size of your faith that matters so much as whether your faith is handicapped by doubt and unbelief. It’s kind of like driving a car with the emergency brake on – you can still drive the car, but you’ll get pretty crummy gas mileage and wear the emergency brake out. Pure, childlike faith, untainted by grown-up unbelief is what moves mountains. Pure faith is a strong faith. So, what kind of unbelief undid the father and Jesus’ disciples? I don’t know for sure, but maybe they were unnerved by the sight of a convulsing child, frothing at the mouth. Any seizure is frightening, especially in a child, and it would have been especially terrifying knowing that there was a demon behind it. Unfortunately, natural unbelief is fueled by what we see and hear. And when it comes to medical issues, in particular, our unbelief sends us to WebMD looking for reassurance and hope – even if we have faith. Oh, we may be declaring the promises of God over our situation, but we’re also feeding our doubts by heeding our circumstances.

So, how do you deal with unbelief? You starve it. (Mark 9:29) You see, unbelief that arises from ignorance and bad theology can be corrected by showing people the truth. (Mark 6:6) But overcoming natural unbelief requires prayer and fasting. Your body needs to learn that it’s not in charge, and by fasting for a time you’re telling your five senses that there’s more to life than just bread. (Matt. 4:4) Prayer and fasting doesn’t necessarily move God to action, and it certainly doesn’t move the devil, but fasting and prayer will move you. It affects you. So, instead of trying to build a bigger and bigger faith, maybe we need to stop feeding our unbelief. In other words, we need to fix the right problem.

When there’s a problem in our lives, a strategy that Satan sometimes uses is to divert our attention onto “fixing” the thing that’s not broken. That way, we’re doubly messed up: we’ve “fixed” the part that’s not broken, and not fixed the part that needs fixing – assuming we can “fix” anything in the first place. But if Christ lives in you, there’s nothing wrong with your faith. You might have a problem with unbelief, but your faith is not the issue. It’s unbelief that limits the power of God in your life. And today, there’s a lot of emphasis on faith, and the getting more of it. So, like the disciples, we pray, “Lord, increase my faith.” (Luke 17:5) But Jesus’ response to that request was, “Your faith is not the problem – even a little faith will get the job done.” (Luke 17:6, my paraphrase). And the reason why our faith is not the problem is because it’s His faith, not ours.

Paul said that he was justified by the faith of Jesus Christ and lived by the faith of the Son of God. (Gal. 2:16, 20) He understood that faith was a gift from God. (Eph. 2:8) And that’s why when Peter healed the crippled man outside the temple to the crowd’s utter astonishment, he gave all the credit to a faith that had come from God. (Acts 3:16) Unfortunately, too many times we think there’s something wrong with our faith, but that’s like saying God gives defective gifts. He doesn’t.

So stop worrying so much about your faith – if you’re a believer, you already have enough faith to move your mountain. Maybe it’s unbelief that’s the problem and, if so, a little prayer and fasting may be just what the Doctor ordered, and then be sure to schedule an appointment to see him next week for a follow-up.

Grace,

Randy

A Sense of Humor

A Sense of Humor
A Sense of Humor - Audio/Visual 

Then Jesus called to the crowd to come and hear. “Listen,” he said, “and try to understand. It’s not what goes into your mouth that defiles you; you are defiled by the words that come out of your mouth.” Then the disciples came to him and asked, “Do you realize you offended the Pharisees by what you just said?” Jesus replied, “Every plant not planted by my heavenly Father will be uprooted, so ignore them. They are blind guides leading the blind, and if one blind person guides another, they will both fall into a ditch.” (Matthew 15:10-14)

The Bible uses the word “laugh,” “laughter,” or some form of the word more than 200 times. Sadly, the Bible has been all too often mishandled by a bunch of religious people who take thick coats of varnish and lacquer over the Bible, masking all of the humanity and silly stories about sinners like us. The result is that Ecclesiastes 3:4 is completely overlooked which says, “There’s a time to laugh.” So, did Jesus know how to laugh? Did he have a sense of humor, or was he like Spock from Star Trek? You know – serious and logical, walking around spouting out syllogisms? Remember that before beginning his public ministry, Jesus was a construction worker. And now he’s hanging out with a bunch of blue collar guys and much of their life is spent walking around and camping. I don’t know about you, but if you get 12 blue collar guys together, eventually somebody’s going to be telling a joke, or pulling a prank.

To be fully human, Jesus would have had to have had a sense of humor. But the sense of humor that Jesus had is often overlooked. For instance, take the 1927 film, King of Kings (one of the first movies made about Jesus), by Cecil B. DeMille, who was a devout Christian. In that movie, Jesus comes off as super-human with an aura, or a glow about him. Kind of like he’s radioactive. You could always tell it was Jesus in the movie. You’re like, “Which one’s Jesus?” “He’s the one that’s glowing. See him? He’s right there.” “Oh yeah, now I see him.” But that’s not how Jesus really looked. “He had no beauty or majesty in him. Nothing in his appearance that we would be attracted to him,” Isaiah the prophet declared. (Isaiah 53:2) But that picture of Jesus, the one of him sort of floating around, stroking his beard, imitating Spock, and glowing like a night light is the kind of thinking that has led to a lot of misunderstanding about Jesus’ sense of humor.

There are some 17,000 books about Jesus in the Library of Congress, and insofar as I’ve found, there’s only one about Jesus’ sense of humor. It’s a great, understudied aspect of Christian theology. It’s called The Humor of Christ by Elton Trueblood. But it’s almost – well, it’s almost 45 years old. So, it’s been a while. Here’s what Trueblood said: “There are numerous passages which are practically incomprehensible when regarded as sober prose, but which are luminous once we become liberated from the gratuitous assumption that Christ never joked. Once we realize that Christ was not always engaged in pious talk, we have made an enormous step on the road to understanding.” Trueblood goes on to say later that “Christ laughed, and he expected others to laugh. A misguided piety has made us fear that acceptance of his obvious wit and humor would somehow be mildly blasphemous, or sacrilegious.”

But religion is serious business, right? Think finger pointing, furrowed brow kind of stuff. Think serious religious types. Religion, we think, is serious business, and serious business is incompatible with banter. But the Dictionary of Biblical Imagery says, “If there is a single person within the pages of the Bible that we can consider to be a humorist, it is without a doubt Jesus. Jesus was a master of word play, irony, and satire, often with an element of humor intermixed.”

But we can miss the humor of Jesus and the funny parts in the Bible. Why? Because we become overly familiar. For instance, sometimes we’ve heard a particular Bible story so often that we kind of miss the crazy, shocking, funny, human, earthy, silly parts of it. Secondly, the centerpiece of Christian theology is the death of Jesus on the cross, where God substituted himself and died to pay the penalty for our sins so that we might have salvation. That’s serious. It’s no wonder then why these issues can dominate our thinking, reducing Jesus’ life to little more than not sinning to prepare himself to die, rather than living as a human being with friends and a sense of humor. Remember, Jesus got invited to a lot of weddings, house parties and meals. His critics accused him of being a drunkard, a glutton and a friend of sinners, which is untrue. He didn’t drink too much. He didn’t eat too much. And his friends were pretty crazy, but we’re all grateful that Jesus was willing to hang out with people as jacked up as we are.

But the religious people couldn’t understand him. They’re like, “You know what? All the sinners invite him to their house to have dinner and be their friend. There must be something wrong with him.” No, maybe he was just fun to hang out with. Maybe the true mark of a Christian is someone you can eat pizza and shoot pool with, or throw darts with, or go to the game with – not just if they can exegete the Greek text and beat you in Bible Jeopardy like some Sunday school nerd. And Jesus was that guy – people loved to hang out with him, and we tend to overlook that fact because religious people tend to ignore that facet of his life.

Also, there’s a cultural distance between the days of Jesus, some 2,000 years ago, and our present culture. How many of you have learned that culture is really the container for comedy? For instance, how many of you have watched British comedy (think Monty Python) and you’re like, “I don’t know what’s so funny.” Well, it’s because British people have a different culture which shapes their sense of humor. Or, how many of you have been to another country and everybody’s laughing, and you’re like, “Ha-ha. I have no idea what they’re laughing about, but ha-ha,” because it’s a different cultural context?

Jesus’ favorite target was religious people. That’s because Jesus and religion are different. We should be big on Jesus – not on “religion.” We believe that the Bible is altogether true, so we’re big on the Bible, too. But what we see in the Bible is Jesus making fun of religious people because they take themselves so seriously. They judge others and overlook their own shortcomings. They like to think that their righteousness is of their own doing (by being so serious), rather than a gift from God so that they can lighten up just a little bit. So, Jesus says of the Pharisees, the religious folks, that they’re a bag of snakes. Yes, he tells them that. (Matthew 12:34) And he also says that their father’s Satan. (John 8:44) Now, before you get too carried away, don’t forget that that was the Pharisees’ opinion of Jesus just three verses earlier when they referred to him as being “illegitimate.” (That’s a polite way of call him a bastard) So, if you’re a serious, devout, religious type like these Pharisees, well, what Jesus said was not very funny. Or, maybe you’re thinking, “That was kind of funny, but I don’t know if I should laugh.”

Well, you should because Jesus even made fun of the way religious people pray, and you’re like, “You can’t make fun of the way religious people pray.” Sure you can. “When you pray, do not pray like the hypocrites. They love to stand and pray in the synagogues and the street corners, that they may be seen by others.” (Mathew 6:6) Let me put that in perspective. Maybe you have this religious uncle who comes over every year for Thanksgiving and says, “Hey, let me say the blessing, OK?” And you’re thinking, “Ugh. This is going to be an hour of King James English.” At which point your uncle launches into his, “Lord God Almighty, we beseech thee on behalf of this thy bird. We thank thee for the bird, and may thy bird nourish us so that we might go forth from this thy place to do great works of service pleasing unto thee,” yada, yada, yada. And you’re sitting there thinking, “This is going to take forever. Just give me the knife and I’ll start carving the bird before the food gets cold.”

Jesus even made fun of the way the Pharisees tithed. Now you’re probably thinking, “Tithing isn’t funny.” Well, it can be. “Woe to you Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin and have neglected the weightier matter of the law – justice and mercy and faithfulness.” (Matthew 23:23) What Jesus was saying was this: “You guys are tithing out of your spice rack.” They’re so serious, these religious people; ten percent of everything! “Okay, Lord, here’s 9 peppercorns for me, 1 for you; 9 mint leaves for me, 1 for you; 9 poppy seeds for me, 1 for you.” And then they show up at church and say, “Okay, God, here’s a tenth of my spice rack, individually packaged and arranged in alphabetical order. It’s all yours. Love you. Bye!” Jesus even made fun of the way the Pharisees led others. Now, if you want to really make fun of a religious person, just go ahead and mock the religious leader and his followers . . . and then run for your life. But Jesus said that “If one blind person guides another, they will both fall into a ditch.” (Matthew 15:14)

That’d be like you visiting a new city and wanting to see the sights. So, you say, “I’m gonna sign up for one of those guided bus tours.” You get on the bus, and find out that you’ve got a blind tour guide who says, “Off to our right is …. Oh, sorry. I have no idea.”  “And off to our left you’ll see …. Uh, I got nothing.” “Moving right along, I see utter darkness ahead, and have no idea where we’re going.” What Jesus was saying was that religious leaders couldn’t point out anything, and they couldn’t take you anywhere because they were totally blind to the truth.

And do you think some of these religious people got offended? Sure; they totally did. And it’s kind of funny because in our text the disciples come to Jesus and ask him this very peculiar question, “Do you know that the Pharisees are offended?” “Really? All I said was that their father was Satan. Oh, and I made fun of their tithing and their leadership. Really? They’re offended? I’m shocked!” About the only post-modern sin anymore is to offend someone because, after all, there is no truth, just perspective, right? And your religion? Hey, if it works for you, it’s good for you. But you can’t say that someone is right or that someone is wrong. You can’t say that any perspective is right because we all have our own opinions, don’t we? And we went to college, and we know what we’re talking about, because, well … that’s what the grad student said.

No, some were definitely offended by Jesus. Those were the ones who murdered him. Look, we worship a Savior who was killed, so you know somebody was upset. And Jesus says, “Blessed are they who are not offended by me.” (Matthew 11:6) Really? Well then, how do we not be offended by Jesus? Answer? Repent of our sins because – and here’s the truth – we’re all Pharisees. All of us. Some of us are religious Pharisees, and some are Spiritual Pharisees. Some are just moral Pharisees. Political Pharisees. Recycling Pharisees. Eco-friendly Green Pharisees. Whatever. We think we’re better than everyone else because we know how it should be done, and that’s the way we do it. And those who don’t? Well, we make fun of them. We make fun of them behind their backs. We blog about them. We send anonymous tweets to them by grabbing an online identity and just start firing away - 280 characters at a time.

But the truth is that the only way to not be offended by Jesus is to understand that we’re all Pharisees to one degree or another. We’re self-righteous. We’re proud. We’re judgmental. We’re hypocritical. And the only way to not be offended by Jesus is to repent of our own religion. To repent of our own self-righteousness. To repent of our own holier-than-thou attitudes. And then to have a good laugh with Jesus – at our own expense. People take themselves too seriously and take God way too lightly. They just do. Their political party, their cause, their issue, their agenda, their morality – they take themselves way too seriously. Just ask Hollywood. And, sadly, they, and we, take God way too lightly.

Granted, there are some things, and maybe even some people, that are not to be taken too seriously. For instance, not long ago, I was talking with a guy and he said, “I don’t believe in God,” to which I responded, “Well, where do you think everything came from.” His response? “It made itself.” I was like, “Seriously, you want me to respond to that? How does nothing make everything? Come on, man. That’d be like if I came home and found a new TV, a new car and seven kids, I’d be like, ‘Wow. Nothing did this.’” That’s just silly.

You see, humor can heighten our other passions. It’s the person who can’t laugh, who can’t grieve, who can’t mourn – it’s the person who’s emotionally constrained by saying, “Oh, I don’t want to laugh. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to feel,” that’s pitiable. You know what? Our God is a passionate God. He hates and he loves. He weeps and he laughs. Our God has the full range of emotions, and we’re made in his image and likeness, and Jesus was the perfect man. Emotion and passion are good, providing it’s cultivated in a healthy way.

One of my favorite preachers is Charles Haddon Spurgeon. He’s a dead, reformed Baptist minister. He was an eccentric guy, had a weird sense of humor, and was quirky, passionate and had tons of critics. But he wrote a little book called Eccentric Preachers. It’s out of print, but in one section I think it really expresses the heart of what I’m trying to say: “Well, then, let each servant of God tell his message in his own way.” (I love that line) “Well, then, let each servant of God tell his message in his own way. To his own Master (that would be Jesus) he shall stand or fall. Judge the preacher if you like, but do remember that there is something better to be done than that. Namely, to get all the good you can out of him, and pray his Master to put more good into him.”

I don’t think it irreverent to appreciate the humor in the Bible when it’s right there in front of us. And I also think that Jesus had a sense of humor and used it, appropriately, during his ministry. Of course, not everything is funny. But if you can see the humor in a giraffe or a platypus, isn’t it refreshing to think that the Creator of the universe has a sense of humor? It takes our picture of that Gandalf-like (think J.R.R. Tolkien and his Lord of the Rings) God of the Old Testament who, after a sufficient number of anger management courses, changes into the God of love in the New Testament.

Maybe he’s the same God after all. Only now, he looks at us through the lens of his Son since, if we’ve seen the Son, we’ve seen the Father. (John 14:9)

Grace,

Randy

Faithfulness

Faithfulness
Faithfulness - Audio/Visual 

Remember always, as the center of everything, Jesus Christ, a man of human ancestry, yet raised by God from the dead according to my Gospel. For preaching this I am having to endure being chained in prison as if I were some sort of a criminal. But they cannot chain the Word of God, and I can endure all these things for the sake of those whom God is calling, so that they too may receive the salvation of Jesus Christ, and its complement of glory after the world of time. I rely on this saying: If we died with him we shall also live with him: if we suffer with him we shall also reign with him. If we deny him he will also deny us: yet if we are faithless he always remains faithful. He cannot deny his own nature.(2 Tim. 2:8-13)

Thomas Obadiah Chisholm had a difficult life as a young adult. In fact, his health was so fragile that there were times when he was confined to his bed, completely unable to work. Between bouts of illness he would have to push himself to put in the extra hours at various jobs just to make ends meet. But despite his difficulties, Thomas found great comfort in the Scriptures, particularly in the fact that God was faithful to be his strength in times of illness and weakness, and to provide for his needs.

Later in life, while away on a mission’s trip, Thomas wrote several letters to one of his good friends, William Runyan, a little-known musician at the time. Occasionally, Thomas would include one of the poems he had written along with the letter. Runyan found one of Thomas' poems so moving that he decided to put it to music. The hymn got very little recognition, however, until it was discovered by a Moody Bible Institute professor who loved it so much, and requested it sung so often at chapel services, that the song became the unofficial theme song of the college. But it was not until 1954, when George Beverly Shea began to sing Great is Thy Faithfulness at the Billy Graham evangelistic crusades, that the hymn was heard around the world – more than three (3) decades after its initial composition.

Fortunately, God’s faithfulness has never depended upon the faithfulness of his children. He is faithful even when we aren’t. When we lack courage, he doesn’t. In fact, he’s made a history out of using people in spite of themselves. Take the feeding of the five thousand, for example. It’s the only miracle, aside from those of the final week of Jesus’ life, that’s recorded in all four Gospels. (Matt. 14:13-21; Mark 6:31-44; Luke 9:10-17; and John 6:5-15) So, why did all four writers think it worth repeating? Maybe because they wanted to show how God doesn’t give up even when His people do.

That particular day began with the news of the death of John the Baptist, and it continued with the return of the disciples from a short-term mission’s trip. Following the disciples were five thousand men and their families. Jesus tried to get away from the crowd by crossing the Sea of Galilee (about 8 miles wide) to a little fishing village, Bethsaida, only to find the crowd waiting for him there. He wanted to mourn the news of John the Baptist in solitude, but instead he was surrounded by people. He wanted to spend time with just the disciples, but he got a crowd instead. He wanted time to think, but he had people to face.

So, he spent time teaching them, and then he turned to Philip and asked, “Where can we buy enough bread for all these people to eat?” (John 6:5) Keep in mind now that Philip, along with the other disciples, had just come back from casting out demons and healing the sick. (Mark 6:13) So you’d expect him to be kind of optimistic; a little bit of faith would seem entirely appropriate. After all, he’d just spent several weeks seeing the impossible happen right before his very eyes. But how does Philip respond? Well, he indentifies the problem alright, but has absolutely no clue how to solve it. “We would all have to work a month to buy enough food for each person to have only a little piece,” he groans. (John 6:7) In other words, he can cite the stats, but he can’t see how to help. He can crunch the numbers, but he can’t construct the answer. And even though the very answer to prayer is standing right in front of him, he doesn’t even think to pray.

Equally disturbing is the silence of the other disciples. Are they optimistic, like we had hoped Philip would be? Well, read their words and see for yourself: “No one lives in this place and it is already very late. Send the people away so they can go to the countryside and towns around here to buy themselves something to eat.” (Mark 6:35-36) Wow. Where’s the faith in that response? Maybe something along the lines of: “You can do it, Jesus. No challenge is too great for you. I mean, we’ve seen you heal the sick and raise the dead. So, feeding this crowd? That’s a clown question, bro.” But that’s not what they said. In fact, if faith were a candle, these guys had entirely flamed out.

Apparently, it never occurred to the disciples to turn the problem over to Jesus. Only Andrew came close, but even his faith was small. “Here is a boy with five loaves of barley bread and two little fish, but that is not enough for so many people.” (John 6:9) Andrew at least comes to Jesus with an idea. But he doesn’t come with much faith. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find much faith on the hill that day. Philip was cynical; Andrew was doubtful; and the other disciples were negative. Look at them – they aren’t praying; they aren’t believing; they aren’t even seeking a solution. If they’re doing anything, they’re telling Jesus what to do. “Send the people away.” (Mark 6:36) Not a particularly good idea.

Thankfully, God is greater than our weakness. In fact, our weaknesses reveal just how great God is. He told another struggler, the apostle Paul, “When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you.” (2 Cor. 12:9) And the feeding of the five thousand is a perfect example of this principal. In fact, the scene answers the question, “What does God do when his children are weak?” But if God ever needed an excuse to give up on people, he had one here. Surely God would banish these followers until they learned to believe. But is that what he does? You decide. “Then Jesus took the loaves of bread, thanked God for them, and gave them to the people who were sitting there. He did the same with the fish, giving as much as the people wanted.” (John 6:11)

When the disciples didn’t pray, Jesus prayed. When the disciples didn’t see God, Jesus sought God. When the disciples were weak, Jesus was strong. When the disciples had no faith, Jesus had faith – and he thanked God. But for what? The crowds? The pandemonium? The weariness? The faithless disciples? No, he thanked God for the basket of bread and two little fish. He ignored the clouds and found the ray of sunshine and thanked God for it. And look what he does next. “Jesus divided the bread and gave it to his followers, who gave it to the people.” (Matt. 14:19)

In other words, rather than punishing the disciples, he employs them. There they go, passing out the bread they didn’t request, enjoying the answer to the prayer they didn’t even pray. If Jesus would have reacted according to the faith of his disciples, the multitudes would have starved. But he didn’t. And he doesn’t. God is true to us even when we forget him. God’s blessings are dispensed according to the riches of his grace, not according to the depth of our faith. Like the text states, “If we are faithless he always remains faithful. He cannot deny his own nature.” (2 Tim. 2:13)

Why is that important to know? So we won’t get cynical. I mean, just look around you. Aren’t there more mouths to feed than there’s bread available? Aren’t there more wounds to heal than physicians can possibly mend? Aren’t there more who need the truth than those who’re available to tell it? Aren’t there more churches asleep than there are churches on fire? So what do we do? Throw our hands up and walk away? Tell the world we can’t help them? That’s what the disciples wanted to do.

No, we don’t give up. We look up. We trust. We believe. And our optimism is not empty, or hollow. Christ has proven worthy. He has shown that he never fails even though there is nothing but failure in us. God is faithful even when his children aren’t. That’s faithfulness. That’s our God.

Grace,

Randy