I Believe, Help My Unbelief

“I believe, help my unbelief.”

All eloquence and prose of the English language cannot sum up the emotion and power within those five words. When a soul is brought so low to utter this in prayer there is certainly a great yearning deep within, but to utter it would be to speak unjustly of it and thus demean the weightiness of the issue.

There is no way to sway away the tears from the eyes of the one who prays this, it is a task only God can do, only in his arms will one find the safety one so desperately needs. The pining of one's heart and the longing of the spirit is for God to comfort and calm, for God to save and redeem, for God to fix and mend.

And as the night has grown to its darkest point the dawn begins to creep in and the tormented soul begins to see the light of God’s irrefutable goodness. In the pale morning light the mourner recognizes he stand on the opposite side of the valley from whence he began. And, thus, begins to ascend to the top of the mountain in sweet remembrance of how God taught him as a teacher a pupil.

How he had, for years, been patiently repeating the same lesson and calmly prodding the child to learn it well. How he brought in guest lecturers to wax eloquently about the lesson to the student who enjoyed the toys more than the work. How he had stooped onto the child’s level and talked to him in words he knew quite well and taught him the lesson in detail. How he held the students hand when the lesson was driven home, and how he continues to teach the lesson to a pupil who now stands in awe of the teacher’s wisdom.

And thus the student wanderer has come through the valley of sheer darkness to see in the radiance of the cool morning light all the torment and fear he has been brought through. Now as he looks ahead he sees the sea of grace that has already swallowed him, the sea that will indeed carry him home.

Confused Duality

Sinful is what I am. A sinner is what I have been; a sinner is what I will be. Though I press at every fold of all of my flesh sin still remains so entwined with my very being that I cannot escape it. I rant and I rave, I ache and I cry, I fight and I scream but I remain so very much within me.

All I do will not help my plight. All my stabbing at a spiritual foe will not make him die. I cannot kill him. Thank God.

I cannot kill him, thank God. I cannot slay my archenemy, thank God. I cannot take him behind the shed and bloody his lip, thank God. It’s already been done.

The fight has been fought. The killer has been killed. His lip has been bloodied. The battle has been won.

Then why is the struggle so very apparent? If the fight has already been finished then why is all of life called a ‘fight’? Why does every moment feel like a desperate tooth and nail battle?

Because this enemy is so entrenched within our being there is much fighting to be fought before the war is over. The decisive battle is over, like Normandy in World War II, the enemy is defeated but it is the downhill slope within which the enemy fights fiercer than ever. But this battle is against ourselves.

“My enemy and I are one and the same. (Brooke Fraser)”

All of Romans 7 speaks to this duality of a Christian’s nature. Where one side yells, “I am redeemed by the blood of Jesus!” and the other screams in defiance, “It’s my life! MINE!”

Welcome to the Christian life oh Christian. Welcome to the fight. The battle will be exhausting, the tears numerous, the pain intense, but the Reward will be worth it. The glory of God in the face of Jesus.

An Occurrence of Worship

I have seen multiple countries. I have seen the pyramids. I have seen the empty tomb. I have seen the place of the skull. I have seen the waters of the Nile and the Jordan. I have seen the sunrise from the window of a plane creating a grand canyon in the clouds. I have seen the Grand Canyon. But those sights do not, nor cannot compare to seeing uninhibited worship.

Eyes weeping and arms outstretched, lungs singing as much and best as they can “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” This is more beautiful than all the sunrises these eyes have seen.

“What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” A room full of people singing, this chorus of sinful saints singing their only hope.

All gathered for one purpose, all singing for one purpose, because they have seen the glory of God in the face of Jesus. His beauty is beheld so deep in their souls they must, for they are bound by his beauty, run to him.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.” (Isaiah 9:2) Their Redeemer has come. Their conquering King is reigning. Their beautiful Savior has paid their penalty. Mercy and grace flow unmingled down from God, for the Gospel has been (and is being) believed, and the dead are now alive.

Therefore this worship may occur. Those who once lived in complete slavery to sin are now free to weep at the remembrance of their redemption; free to lift their arms, for the shackles are gone, in adoration of their King; free to sing with all their might of the blood that washed (and is washing) away their sins.

This was Sunday morning at Journey the Way.