We are often told as Christians that the war for our salvation has already been won, that on Calvary Jesus accomplished our reconciliation. It's true that God has accomplished through Jesus Christ all that needs to be done to open for us the door to redemption, but that doesn't mean that we as His disciples are left with nothing to do.
While Even though Christ won the victory over sin and death on the cross, there are still battles left to be fought by Jesus' followers. We see this clearly reflected in this passage from the gospel of Mark. Jesus isn’t even allowed time to savor the moment of His transfiguration before he descends from the mountain to find a demon-possessed boy and the failures of His disciples. It's a reminder that while Jesus' glory was revealed on the mountain, that revelation was not universal. God has twice acknowledged His son, both at His baptism and on the mount of transfiguration, but that same Son must still suffer and die so that God’s victory, our victory will be assured. It reminds me of the Second Word War. With the benefit of hindsight, many historians say that Germany and the Axis powers lost World War II the moment the United States entered the conflict. The United States' industrial and economic might would eventually overwhelm Germany, Japan, and Italy, as powerful as they were. And yet, when we declared war, those nations didn't throw up their hands and surrender. Men, women, and children were still exposed to suffering and death as the two sides slugged it out. I've spoken to men whose memories of horrendous experiences testify to the fact that inevitable victories still have to be won, and in the process there is suffering. What is true of wars between nations is no less true of the spiritual war being waged between the forces of good and the forces of evil, between the forces of life and the forces of death. Indeed, there is much work left for us to do, as disciples of Jesus Christ.
What
What we also see born out in this passage is that our actions as Jesus’ followers reflect on Christ Himself. This isn’t to say that our failures are Christ’s failures, but that nonetheless people are prone to see it that way. Speaking to Jesus, the father of the demon-possessed boy asks Him to cast out the demon, “if you are able.” The failure of the disciples has led the man to question the power of the one who commissioned them. When they later ask what caused their failure, Jesus attributes it to a lack of prayer. The disciples made the error of self-reliance when trying to exercise their spiritual gifts. A few months ago I was experiencing power outages in my house. One day I went to flip the switch on for the light, and nothing happened. My response was to continually flip the switch on and off a few times. You see, sometimes we forget that our flipping a switch isn’t what turns the light on, it simply opens the way for the power to make its way to the light. The power isn’t coming from me; it’s coming from the wires connected to a source somewhere. Similarly, the disciples make the mistake of thinking that the power to exorcise demons comes from within themselves, when in reality they are just the ones that open up the line between the afflicted person and God. When they fail to pray, they lose their connection to the one whose power is at work in the exorcisms. I wonder if in those times we give the wrong impression about who Christ is, if it isn’t because of a lack of prayer in our own lives. I wonder if in failing to maintain a line of communication to God through Christ, we sometimes forget who Christ is in the first place.
A final point related to this passage has to do with the constant struggle within each of us between faith and doubt. The boy’s father clearly wants to believe, but he needs help. In words that surely resonate with each one of us, he exclaims “I believe, help my unbelief!” In an age of science and technological advancement, it is easy to misunderstand the very nature of faith. You may here religious folk say sometimes, “I’m 100% certain that God exists!”, or “I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is real.” At the risk of sounding blunt, that isn’t faith. That’s knowledge. God calls us to faith knowing full well that there will be times when it is difficult to believe. If you think of the most iconic pictures of faith, they all contain an element of the absurd. To walk through the Red Sea took faith, a belief that God would continue to hold back the waters. To stand in front of Goliath with nothing but a sling was more than courageous, it was nuts. And yet, David’s faith told him to defy reason and take the risk, trusting in God for ultimate victory. In the end, we only know faith because of doubt. Just as we only know and appreciate light because we know of darkness, the absence of light, we can only truly know faith in relation to doubt, or the absence of faith. We don’t decide to follow Jesus because we are 100% certain that He exists, and is who He claims to be. We do so because we desperately need His Spirit to grow our faith as we follow Him. Emily Jane Bronte wrote a poem called Plead for Me, in which she expresses many of the emotions we feel as we struggle with the co-existence of faith and doubt within our spirit. I leave you with the words from the first and last stanza:
“O thy bright eyes must answer now, when reason, with a scornful brow, is mocking at my overthrow;
O thy sweet tongue must plead for me, and tell why I have chosen thee!
And am I wrong to worship where faith cannot doubt nor hope despair, since my own soul can grant my prayer?
Speak, God of Visions, plead for me, and tell why I have chosen thee!”
No comments:
Post a Comment