Do they increase your faith?
Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash
Ever been there? The preacher walks to the platform and says, “Isn’t God good?” and everyone gives a resounding “yes!” No one’s going to say “no.” Especially when everyone else is saying “yes.” And if he says, “Turn to your neighbor and say, “God is good” you’re pretty much stuck.
It’s not that I don’t think God is good, it’s because I don’t want to say something because someone tells me to say it. I want to say it because I believe it. Now.
How about this? The preacher says, “Turn to your neighbor and say, ‘I am strong in the Lord and the power of His might.’” Nope. Not feeling it; not gonna say it, because this morning I’m still sorting that out.
Refusing to repeat something just because someone else tells me to confess it may be just plain stubbornness. And that I am, I confess. The faithful Three-in-One and I are working on that. But there’s this other thing called a “faith confession.”
It goes like this:
I walk into church and the greeter says, “Hey, mighty woman of God. How are you today?”
Um. I suppose I could say, “Blessed and highly favored.” It’s true. God has blessed me with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places. This morning, though, I’m still waiting for heaven to invade earth. Blessed and highly favored is who I am, but weary from the struggle is how I am.
I think I’ll just settle for, “Fine.”
A wise pastor friend of mine says that when you ask someone how they’re doing, and they say “Fine,” it probably means “feelings I’m not expressing.” (Or it could be you want to escape from the person asking. Just sayin’.) But you’re not fine. Your faith is faltering. You need someone to hold up your arms.
“Faith confessions” can gloss over ugly realities. I want to get to the truth. “Faith confessions” can dull your heart. I want a heart that is tender. “Faith confessions” can keep my friendships shallow. I want a shelter I can run to. “Faith confessions” can keep me from talking — really talking — to the One who can turn my hope into faith — real faith. Like the man with the mute son (Mark 9:24), I want to jump at the opportunity to grow. “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.”
You are blessed. You are highly favored. You are righteous. You are healed. All true. But those realities have to take residence in my heart before they have any power coming out of my mouth. Short of that, my “faith confession” is simply a shelter from the truth, a wall of defense to protect my reputation. Thank God that inside that door, or on the other end of that telephone line or waiting for me at the coffee shop, are my Aaron and Hur.
If you’re sick, you’re sick. Call for the elders of the church. If you’re broke, you’re broke. Check your spending and then pray. “Help!” will do nicely. If you’re feeling sorry for yourself, go for a brisk walk. If you’re struggling with temptation, call a friend.
“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” James 5:16
I want a heart that is strong, yet vulnerable. I want friends I can run to when my faith is small. I want to acknowledge my weakness so my confession is pure. I want to live life, eyes wide open, fully alive.