Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

 

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19B)

The Holy Baptism of Annika Lucia Downard

September 15, 2024

Text: Mark 9:14-29

            “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24; ESV).  That is the prayer, isn’t it?  Insofar as I am the New Man in Christ, baptized into Christ, one upon whom the Father, through the Son, has bestowed the Holy Spirit… yes, I believe!  But then there is Old Adam, my fallen flesh, and this fallen world.  There are my sins, and my weaknesses, and the sins and weaknesses of others.  And there is the brokenness of it all.  These are what my eyes see.  And so, well… help my unbelief! 

            It’s hard to believe.  It’s hard to believe when your son does not speak.  When a demon grabs hold of him and throws him onto the ground so that he foams at the mouth and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid.  When the demon does this around fire and water in an attempt to destroy the boy.  Yes, that makes it awfully hard to believe. 

            It’s hard to believe when you are a disciple of Jesus, who, with your brother disciples, have been casting out demons for nearly three years, but this one, for some reason, won’t obey.  And you see the disappointment turn to anger and resentment in a desperate father’s eyes, because you can do nothing to help, and he’s about to give up on your ministry, and on the Jesus for whom you speak.

            It’s hard to believe when the respected religious leaders can only stand back and scoff.  “Ha!  We knew you were fakes and frauds!  Where is the power of this Messiah you proclaim as the very coming of the Kingdom of Heaven?!”  And they argue against the legitimacy of your faith (and that, in front of the crowds!), and accuse you of leading the people astray, away from Moses, away from the Law, away from God!

            It’s hard to believe…  Indeed, impossible by your own reason or strength.  That is the rub.  You know this from your own experience.  Perhaps you can identify with the father in our text, helpless against the suffering of your child.  (Though it wasn’t a demon, Sarah and I know the terror of watching our boy drop to the floor, and convulse, and foam… this text hits the bullseye of this father’s heart.)  Perhaps you can identify with the disciples.  “Why does it seem like I’m losing the war against the assaults of the demons and the temptations and persecutions of the world?  What used to work, is not working.  I feel like a failure, and in the eyes of the world, I must look like a fool.”  (And, well, pastors know acutely the disappointment, anger, and resentment of parishioners who, for whatever reason, don’t get what they are expecting from the preacher.)  Perhaps it is something else.  Your own besetting sins.  Guilt.  Shame.  Resentment toward others.  Illness, or injury, or just plain exhaustion.  Grief.  Anxiety.  Your worries about the future. 

            But above all, the one you should identify with in our Gospel, is the boy.  Seized by demonic claw, like a cat playing with a mouse before going in for the kill, and then… a corpse on the ground.  Physically dying and spiritually dead.  That’s what you are by your own reason or strength.  Hard to believe?  An utter impossibility.  Dead men have no faith.

            But you know Jesus specializes in resurrection from the dead.  And it is He who now comes on the scene.  With Peter, James, and John, who are as confused as anyone, but who had just witnessed His Transfiguration, and heard the voice of the majestic Glory: This is My Beloved Son… Listen to Him!

            Jesus comes on the scene, and He speaks, and His Word cuts quickly to the heart of the matter.  What are you arguing about?  Well, we’re arguing about all the brokenness, Lord, and the fact that no one can seem to do anything about it.  We’re arguing because there are demons in our midst, and they love to incite us to do that very thing.  We’re arguing because we’re helpless to do anything else.  We’re dead, You see.

            Jesus puts His finger right at the very center of the problem.  Again, no faith.  You are a faithless generation.  It pains Him.  It exasperates Him.  How long do I have to put up with this?  But… Bring him to Me. 

            Now, the help Jesus gives is anything but clean.  They bring Him the boy, but now, cue the demonic show.  The throwing down.  Convulsions.  Rolling about.  Foaming at the mouth.  (Demons are such drama queens.)  The father is undoubtedly beside himself.  See, Jesus?  Do something!  But the Lord appears unphased (no doubt, also, to the consternation of the demon).  Hmm.  How long has this been going on?  I mean, come on, Jesus!  Is this really the time to make conversation?  What are You waiting for?  If You can do anything… have some compassion!  Help us!

            If You can do anything… Unbelief.  What was Jesus doing in this dialogue?  Calling forth the unbelief, the faithlessness, to deal with it.  If You can!  See, that’s the problem right there.  But all things are possible for one who believes.  And that’s not you, oh desperate father.  And it’s not you, you helpless, hopeless, confused bunch of disciples.  And it’s certainly not you, you contentious Scribes.  And it’s not you, dear Christian.  Who is the One who believes, and therefore for whom all things are possible?  Jesus, of course!  Jesus is the Faithful One.  And in Jesus, the God who created all things out of nothing, faith is called forth from unbelief.  The dead are raised to life.  And that is how you come to faith, so that this is now the cry of the father, and it is your cry: “I believe; help my unbelief!”  Only the faith of Jesus Christ, given to a person as Jesus’ own gift to him, can cry for freedom from unbelief.  Only the faith of Jesus Christ, bestowed by the Spirit of Jesus Christ in His Word and gifts, can cry out for resurrection from the dead. 

            Which is why you are here.  In spite of all that makes it hard… nay, impossible… to believe.  You have heard the Word of Jesus.  You are baptized into Christ.  Now, simul iustus et peccator.  That is the paradox of your life now..  At the same time righteous and a sinner.  There is still an unbeliever in you, with shrugged shoulders and an “if You can… but You probably can’t, or won’t.”  But that unbeliever is teased out into the open by Jesus, who exposes him for what he is.  The Lord kills the unfaith, Old unbelieving Adam in you.  And there you lie, like a corpse.  Which is right where Jesus wants you.  And He takes you by the hand, and lifts you up, and you arise.  You had to be killed.  You had to be good and dead.  So that Jesus could raise you up.  So that you could live.  That is how He helps your unbelief.  That is how He gives you to confess: “I believe!”

            And that is how He helps the boy.  And my son.  And you.  And me.  Death and resurrection.  His for us.  Ours in Him, baptized into Christ, as was little Annika Lucia this afternoon.  So that even physical death must serve His helping us, His giving us to believe.  When He doesn’t take away the problem, the cross we are bearing.  He is ferreting out the unbelief.  Old Adam must die.  But you know what He will do in the End.  He will raise you, bodily, from the dead.  Faith keeps its eye on that, shutting out everything else that our fallen eyes see. 

            By the way, why couldn’t the disciples cast the demon out?  You know what it was?  They were cocky!  They took their eyes off of Jesus.  They were impressed with themselves.  They had cast out enough demons, they started to believe they were the ones doing the exorcisms.  No, it was never them.  It was always Jesus.  It can only be Jesus.  Through them, yes, but only Jesus.  So, the cocky disciples had to die.  Failure.  Humiliation.  That Jesus may raise them up true disciples.  That is, those who follow Him.  This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.  That is, the power is God’s, not yours.  If you want to drive out a demon, you have to ask God to do it.  And there is good evidence that the text continues: and fasting.  This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer and fasting.  That is, denial of self.  The coming to the end of yourself.  Because if you’re still in yourself, you are easy prey for the demon.  But if you come to the end of yourself, then you have nothing left but Jesus.  Which is exactly the way it should be.

            Faith is complete and utter dependence on God… on His Son, Jesus Christ.  Faith confesses sin and unbelief, and cries out to Jesus for help and salvation.  Faith commends loved ones to Jesus, knowing He is the only One who can help.  Faith knows there is no deliverance from sin, Satan, trial, or tribulation apart from Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  Faith looks never to itself for sufficiency, but to Jesus Christ alone.  He is the Faithful One.  He is the One who believes.  All things are possible for Him.  And so faith says, “I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him… (Old Adam is rebellious and dead!)  But if He helps my unbelief by sending His Spirit in His Word (and He does!), then His faith becomes my own, and I can confidently say: ‘I believe!’  (New Creation in Christ!)  And I can leave all things in His hands, where they belong, and rest in His life and salvation.”

               “I believe; help my unbelief!”  That is your lifelong prayer.  And Jesus’ lifelong answer is to take your hand, and raise you up.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.