Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”

“From childhood,” he answered.  “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the impure spirit. “You deaf and mute spirit,” he said, “I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.”

The spirit shrieked, convulsed him violently and came out. The boy looked so much like a corpse that many said, “He’s dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet, and he stood up. (Mark 9: 21-27)

I find myself so much like this boy’s father. Asking Jesus “If you can do anything…” And sometimes I hear God saying back, “…If I can?”

I am often reminded that God is capable. And I should not put God in this teeny tiny little box I keep trying to contain Him in. Because my God is bigger than any storm, mountain, box, cancer or tumor. Period. End of sentence. It may not be God’s will to heal me from this. My mission on earth may be done and it may be time to come Home. And who am I to argue? I would love to be in Heaven. However, I am not ready. And admitting that is a hard hard conversation to have with myself. To feel like I have failed God here and not done enough. To feel like I’ve messed up my kids or hurt my husband. To feel like I haven’t served enough, loved enough, or fought enough. And those are the conversations I have with God. To ask daily for forgiveness and to beg for more time. To raise my kids right. To serve more. To love more. To make a difference. To ask more people around me if they know my God. If they are ready to love their God.

See, this is where you have to read the rest of Mark 9 and you can’t just stop at one verse.

Everything is possible for one who believes…

When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the impure spirit…I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.

See, that’s who I’ve got fighting my battles. And that is reassuring. The same God who helped David pick up a stone and kill Goliath. The same God who walked on water. The same God who calmed the seas and who I have seen time after time calm the storms.

It’s not some story. It’s the literal God that came down to earth, lived a sinless life, performed miracles, raised the dead, cast out demons, healed the sick, restored blindness. It’s the same God who told his disciples that the reason they couldn’t perform miracles was because they didn’t even have the faith as small as mustard seed. Because, if they did, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20)

Faith is a hard thing. We take so much for granted, just assuming it will be there. We take forgiveness for granted, just assuming when we act like idiots that God will forgive us. But when I mess up, I remember those nails. The sword. The crown of thorns. And I remember my sin, my mistakes, put Him there. God didn’t promise me an easy life. As a matter of fact, He promised me “the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23). But He did promise me eternal life, even though I mess up. He did promise me that despite my failings, He loves me enough to allow Jesus to stand in front of me and give me the gift of forgiveness – a gift I can never ever repay. Am I worth it? Absolutely not. Do I appreciate it? Absolutely. So, cancer…no cancer…whatever the path that is laid before me, I am grateful that He trusts me. I am grateful He is using me to share this story. Even though every day hurts. Even though some days I cry a lot and some days I really feel abandoned. Even though I wonder how I’m going to get to the end. Even though I wonder if we’ll be able to pay the bills. I trust He’s going to provide. I trust He’s got a plan even though right now, my eyesight is dark and I’m not able to see. I trust that God is going to show up and flip the light switch on and I’ll look at the room around me and see all of it and then have that “ah-ha” moment. But for now, the darkness is scary and lonely and frightening.

So today, will you pray for me? Will you pray alongside me? Will you pray for peace? Will you pray for my children and my husband who are fighting this battle too and may not be sharing it vocally? Will you pray for strength? Will you pray for God to stand them up, too? Will you pray for my mom, my dad, my sister and brother and for their own family? Because cancer doesn’t impact just the person. It hits all around us. Friends, family, loved ones. And it stings. It cuts deep. It generates fear. But it isn’t incurable. Because, if I’ve learned anything in the physical storms here at this house – it’s that God shows up. And He creates massive rainbows over my house to remind me He’s got me covered. Literally.

Love you all,

Kristin

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