Fully Equipped But Failing — Now What?
The past twelve months have comprised possibly the hardest year of my life. Even before the global pandemic and devastating social unrest that have come to define 2020, I was personally forced into a painful “new normal.” Crucial relationships crumbled before my eyes. Accusations were made that I didn’t understand. People I thought could help ended up compounding the damage. “Social distancing” wasn’t yet in my vocabulary but in many ways it already defined my day-to-day reality. In this season memories became tainted, the present faltered, future hopes wilted.
As I prayed through my confusion and devastation, I pleaded with God to understand how his people could fail so spectacularly at bringing healing. I know the world is broken and people and systems are fallen, but how could those (myself included) who have the Holy Spirit and are presumably seeking his guidance still not find a way through the mess?
On several occasions during tumultuous entreaties with the Lord, these words came to mind: This kind can only come out by prayer. How intriguing to sense an invitation to pray while praying! I knew this line came from the Bible but I couldn’t immediately remember the context. Google was my friend and a quick search reminded me that these words are found in Mark 9. I am cautious not to assume that every impression or idea I have during prayer is necessarily from the Spirit. But when I’m drawn to the word of God, I pay attention. I took some time to read and re-read this story from Mark 9:14-29:
14 And when they came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. 15 And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. 16 And he asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” 17 And someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. 18 And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.” 19 And he answered them, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” 20 And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. 21 And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. 22 And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” 23 And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” 24 Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” 25 And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” 26 And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” 27 But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. 28 And when he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” 29 And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.”
Just as I am careful to test my impressions during prayer, I also strive not to draw quick or artificial parallels between Scriptural narrative and my life. So what is happening in this passage and how might it guide me and others embroiled in confusing situations?
Mark relays this healing narrative right in the middle of his Gospel account. Matthew and Luke also record a version of this story; notably, though he is known for his fast-paced plot advancement, Mark slows down with his description of this situation in a way the others do not.
The story picks up on the heels of a miraculous event that we call the Transfiguration. Peter, James, and John had just accompanied Jesus onto a high mountain outside of Caesarea Philippi in the northernmost part of Israel. They watched in awe as he was clothed with the radiant glory of God, they heard a voice from heaven instruct them to listen to the Son of God, and they saw him commune with Moses and Elijah. On leaving, they listened confusedly as Jesus predicted his impending suffering and death.
Upon their return from this literal mountaintop experience, Jesus and these three disciples find the rest of the Twelve combatting the tumult below. The contrast is stark, the agitation is complex, and the characters are many. As Jesus enters into the imbroglio, he finds defensive disciples, critical scribes, a desperate father, a tortured son, a damaging spirit, and a thirsty crowd of onlookers. The plot thickens as the dialogue between Jesus and the father develops alongside the persistent agony invoked by the unclean spirit. Jesus wants faith from the people, the father wants relief for his boy. This mounting tension reaches an apex as the father eventually exclaims, “I believe! Help my unbelief!” Jesus then goes on to cast out the spirit, restore the son to health, and later emphasize the importance of prayer to his disciples.
In our modern Western culture, we may not relate to such tangible, physical battles with evil spiritual powers. Still many of us likely know the pain and confusion of ongoing spiritual and relational turmoil. Though it is the father’s particular cry that may resonate with our human plight, there is more to appreciate. This story reveals the ways in which people lack faith and are impotent to find healing power when ensnared by the broken forces of the world.
The Disputes of the scribes
Though the scribes do not feature prominently in the dialogue of this passage, their contentious response to Jesus is well established in Mark’s account and it sets the stage for this encounter. In Mark 3:22 these religious leaders accused Jesus of casting out demons by the authority of Beezelbub; they contended that his power was drawn from an evil source. We aren’t privy to the specifics of their debates in this setting, but given their previous position it’s not hard to infer their reactions upon seeing Christ’s disciples fail to exercise his authority. The scribes quite blatantly did not have faith in Jesus. Because they were threatened by him and the claims of his followers, they actively worked to undermine them.
The Disillusionment of the father
The father’s relationship to faith is more obvious in the story, as he was Jesus’s primary interlocutor. Even before his climactic declaration we can see he was exercising some belief; he’s the one who brought his son to be healed by Jesus in the first place. We learn that he has been carrying this burden since his son’s childhood. Years of watching his only son (Luke 9:38) being tortured relentlessly, powerless to bring any relief. Likely he had pleaded with others for medical and spiritual help to no avail; his desperation is palpable. But then. He heard this man Jesus was healing the masses and casting out unclean spirits; he summoned his hope to approach this miracle worker. He need not be concerned that he found only his followers, for they had been granted the authority to cast out such spirits (Mark 6:7) and they had been successful (6:13). Except. They couldn’t help his son after all. He then watched as the established Jewish leaders and the miracle man’s apprentices devolved into a theological debate about their failures while his son continued to writhe before them in pain. By the time Jesus arrived and had him rehash the issues, the little faith he had come with was waning: “If you can…”
The Distractedness of the crowd
Because Mark puts most of the focus onto the conversation between Jesus and the father, the reader could easily miss the presence of the crowd. But when Jesus cried out regarding the “faithless generation” (v. 19), he was speaking of and toward all who could hear him; the onlookers are a piece of this narrative. Initially the horde was gathered around the disagreement among the religious leaders, as if a kid had called out “fight!” in a high school cafeteria. But when Jesus arrived on the scene, donning the remnants of his post-transfigured radiance, they were immediately drawn toward him in awe. Likely many were listening in as the father recounted his story to Jesus, but it was after his ecstatic profession of faith that they came running once more to see what Jesus might do to help; they wanted to witness the action. The “extras” in this play finally get their line after Jesus cast out the spirit from the boy: “He is dead.” As I picture the crowd in this story I’m reminded of the scene in the 90’s classic movie Hook when the lost boys continue to run back and forth between Peter Pan/Banning and Rufio, trying to decide who is the most compelling leader to whom they will entrust their loyalty. Jesus won the day as he debunked their pronouncement of death and raised the boy in health.
The Discouragement of the disciples
Finally, there was a crisis of faith among the disciples. These men were not new to Jesus; they had been following him, watching him, and learning from him privately and on the public stage. At this point, according to Mark, they would have been alongside Jesus as he cast out evil spirits on at least five separate occasions (1:25-26, 34; 3:11; 5:13; 7:29). What’s more, they themselves had already successfully cast out spirits in Jesus’s name (6:7); they had been balancing without the training wheels and kept a steady path. Yet in the very place where they had recently affirmed that Jesus was the Christ (8:29), they toppled into the bushes. While three of their own had been handpicked to accompany Jesus on a special retreat, the other nine remained to continue their work below. They had grown accustomed to schooling the other Founding Fathers, as it were, only to experience a humiliating defeat in Cabinet Battle #7. After Jesus accomplished what they could not, they returned with him privately, licking their wounds, trying to make sense of their failure. Hadn’t they had faith enough before? Why wasn’t it working anymore?
I can relate to the spectacular lack of faith on every level. Like the scribes, I can be tempted to lean on empirical evidence and religious systems, thus denying the active hand of God working wonders among us. On a diet of Twitter Christianity, news headlines, Instagram-worthy platitudes, and the occasional dash of Bible study, I can at times find myself under-fueled and sprinting around frantically with the crowd.
But recently I find that I resonate more closely to the frustrations of the disciples and the father.
I have been a Christian for most of my life and I have walked through many a difficult season rife with conflict and confusion. I have worked through hard relationships and grown by leaps and bounds in boundaries and conflict-resolution; I have seen the Spirit work wonders as he renews and restores. I’ve expected all of this to equip me well to navigate the brokenness within and before me.
I thought I was doing all of this out of faith and submission to Christ. Why then am I now continually rebuffed and accused? Why aren’t the difficulties of this season resolving?
In this season I have also experienced disappointment in the spiritual leadership and communities I looked to for guidance and support. Rather than finding healing balm, my pain and confusion have been met with theological sophistry and relational aphorisms. I reached out for hands to guide me on a path to wellness only to find shrugging shoulders and pats on the back wishing me the best in my endeavors.
Beautiful messages proclaiming hope and reconciliation are the soundtrack of our study but a new playlist thumps when it comes time to dance.
It’s enough to drive a Christian to pray, “Oh Jesus, if you can…”
All things are possible…
In this same passage we see how Jesus exposes the broken forces of the world and works through faith to overcome our human impotence to bring healing and salvation for his people. There is so much to appreciate in Jesus’s response to this chaotic situation.
Jesus dug into the mess
In slowing down with this narrative Mark reveals how Jesus stepped into the complexities. He asked questions. He listened. He looked plainly at people. He spoke directly to groups and individuals. He offered himself to the undeserving and the unbelieving.
Jesus lamented over brokenness
Jesus not only entered directly into the chaos, but he allowed himself to be affected by what he encountered; the God-man was anything but detached. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record his lament over the faithless (and twisted) generation in his midst. When Jesus heard of the boy’s plight with oppressive evil, he didn’t say “oh well, such is life in the fallen world.” He didn’t shrug his shoulders at his own disciples’ failure to help and thus caution the father that he had expected too much from these spiritual leaders. Perceiving the startling lack of faith among all involved, he didn’t resign to equivocating about how nobody’s perfect. Jesus entered in with people and a world ravaged by sin and he cried out “how long?” He acknowledged that none of this was as it should be.
Jesus exposed and loosed the bonds of sin
It was quite obvious that the boy was in need of healing, that he was broken by the oppression of evil forces. Jesus displayed his authority over the unclean spirit as he brought the boy to himself, rebuked the demon, and restored the young man to health. He not only rid him of the implications of the possession, but he drove out evil itself. Yet Jesus also exposed the underlying wickedness within and among all the people in order to bring truer and more comprehensive healing.
Jesus healed what appeared too far gone
By the time Jesus arrived on the scene, it seemed to most that the boy’s condition was a lost cause. The disciples had failed to dispel the spirit that continued to wreak havoc. The father’s words describing a lifetime of no relief hung heavily in the air. The son continued to writhe in Jesus’s presence. Even after Jesus cast out the spirit it appeared as if the cleansed young man might not recover; perhaps the ordeal had taken too great a toll. But nothing was too far gone for Jesus. He conquered persistent evil. He restored the injured to health. He met unmet expectations.
Jesus didn’t heal immediately
Mark’s uncharacteristic patience with this passage reveals something about Jesus. I’m struck by the five-verse gap between when Jesus requests that the boy be brought to him (v 19) and when he eventually heals the boy (v 25). Certainly Jesus could have chosen to cast out the spirit as soon as he was put before him; after all, the convulsions only increased in his presence. But Jesus had more to do. He wanted to heal the boy and restore him to his father. He also cared about the faith of the people. He offered this predicament as an opportunity to expose and heal in ways they didn’t even know they needed. It’s a very Jesus way to affect restoration.
Jesus enlivened the faith he deserves
The people lacked faith; more accurately, their faith was misplaced. This encounter with Jesus exposed the unbelief of more than just the desperate father. He continually invited the characters to see him, to engage with him, to find him worthy of their belief. The scribes had faith in their strict religious systems. The disciples had faith in their previous experiences of power. The father was searching for something or someone to believe in. Jesus wasn’t so concerned about the amount of their faith, but about its object; he described what even a mustard seed of faith in him could do (Matt 17:20). He revealed that the disciples were no longer looking to him for the authority he had bestowed on them. Jesus was to be their object and their source of the necessary faith to bring healing. I love the way Tony Evans puts it in his Bible Commentary: “Past spiritual victory does not necessarily fuel today’s spiritual battles. Today’s battles require fresh dependency on and communication with God.”
But Jesus wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t dangling their failure to reach some ambiguous threshold of “enough” faith in front of them before he would perform the miracle they hoped for. He didn’t say to the father, “Now that you believe in me, you can forget about your son. His pain and writhing shouldn’t be troubling anymore.”
No, Jesus was (and is) pleased to work through faith to accomplish healing and restoration. To know Jesus is to receive and administer his compassionate care and reconciling power. Faith in Jesus affects true and lasting change.
So why might the Spirit have laid this story on my heart as I pray through the ongoing, seemingly insurmountable difficulties in life? Though it would be lovely to draw applications that tie everything up into a neat and tidy package, instead I find strength and hope for the process.
Jesus is worthy of our faith, even and especially when the world around us seems to be crumbling. I will pray in faith when all else disappoints. “I cannot. They cannot. But Jesus, you can.”
Lament is an appropriate and Godly response when we encounter broken people and systems. Christian leaders will fail. The church will deeply disappoint. Spiritual battles will rage. My own faith will prove weak and misplaced. Yet remembering that we are all fallen doesn’t have to lead to a glib acceptance that glosses over the very real damage done. We don’t have to (and shouldn’t) call something right or acceptable that is not. We can (and should) mourn and cry out to God. We can look to him for strength to persevere. I will pray in faith, asking for the grace to speak truth to myself and to others. I will pray in faith for the church, hoping for more than resigning to our failures.
Amidst confusion I continue to search my own heart, inviting Jesus to expose my sin and my lack of faith. As I cry out with this father’s exclamation, I confess and I repent. I can face my own impotence to solve problems because Jesus offers himself with perfect knowledge, compassion, and power. Though Jesus is not here physically, he has given the Spirit to convict, guide, and empower. I will ask for the faith to pray in faith.
Nothing is impossible for Jesus. So I place my hope in him for restoration, even when it doesn’t look like that’s what’s happening. I trust his process and timing. It may look worse before it gets better. Our faith doesn’t manipulate Jesus to accomplish our ends; he may choose to answer differently than we imagine. But his healing will be true and right. It has been suggested a few times that if I would trust Jesus, I could “move on” from being bothered by what remains broken. I contend that it is precisely because we cling to Christ that we can look directly at the most complex problems and still hope and work for better. I will continue to look to him to restore what is writhing in my midst. I will pray in faith for his restoring and reconciling power to work in his church to bless the world.