When is faith denial and acceptance doubt? It’s the question I’ve been pondering the last couple of months. Certainly, scripture indicates that faith has a role in being healed. When Jesus was in his hometown of Nazareth, Matthew tells us,

“And He did not do many miracles there because of their unbelief.”

“This man was listening to Paul as he spoke, who, when he had fixed his gaze on him and had seen that he had faith to be made well, said with a loud voice, "Stand upright on your feet." And he leaped up and began to walk.”

Yet, at the same time Paul asked three times for a thorn in his flesh, a messenger of Satan, to be removed, to which Jesus answered,

“My grace is sufficient for you.”

Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane prayed,

"My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."

In 2 Corinthians chapter four, Paul strongly asserts that

“We are afflicted in every way—but not crushed...” “...always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.”

The Apostle John in 1 John wrote,

“And this is the confidence which we have in him, that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.

When Mamma had cancer—through three years of a grueling battle with breast cancer—she had great faith that she would be healed. She had great faith right up until two weeks before she died. Early one morning she called us into her bedroom as the ambulance was on its way, “Children, the Lord isn’t going to heal me; the Lord is calling me home.” The theology that would suggest that she didn’t have enough faith to be healed left her at fault, with Jesus standing idly by—waiting for just the right amount and kind of faith; it can be a cruel theology, leaving a family with a cruel hand dealt, “it’s our fault Mamma died, because we didn’t have enough faith.”

In Psalm 139, the psalmist declares, “In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.” There’s a verse to ponder. All my days were written down in God’s book before one of my days ever came to be. Ever since I was a little boy, that number of days hasn’t changed. Will it be sixty-five years of days? Seventy years of days? Ninety years of days? I have no way of knowing, but I know the One in whose book they are written. God healed me of a very serious head injury while in my twenties; he healed me of a likely blocked coronary artery in my thirties. How does our having a set number of days written for us in God's book fit in with having the faith to be healed? When you boil faith down to its essential ingredient, our faith is only as good as the object of our faith; faith in faith is no faith at all. Yet, I have placed my faith in Jesus, the One through whom all things were created, the One in whom all things hold together. He is the One who knitted the stars together “as the small delicate handiwork of His fingers.” He is the One who threw out Orion and Cassiopeia and the Pleiades as if they were but sand. He is the One who gave the eagle its soar, the deer its graceful gait, the meadowlark its beautiful song, the seagull its mournful cry, the humpback whale its thundering breach. He is King of kings, Lord of lords, Majesty of majesties. He is the One who knit me together while yet in my mother’s womb. He is the One who, willingly nailed to a cross, gave up His life and breath and Spirit that we might be forgiven, that we might be saved, that we might be given the gift of everlasting life through simple faith in Him. He is the One in whom I have put my trust. He is the object of my faith. Through all my recent journey what has given me the most peace—while asking and believing to be healed—is Jesus' garden prayer, “Not my will, but your will be done.” In this prayer I find perfect peace.

Jesus always has a way of breaking past our questions and revealing Himself in surprising ways. On this past Sunday morning, I preached on John 14:1-3,

"Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” John 14:1-3

Near the end of my sermon, I reflected on those last words. They suggest that at the moment of our death it is Jesus who meets us to take us home—by grace through faith in Him. It’s not the grim reaper, nor the angels, but Jesus.

On Sunday evening we got the call to rush over to the University of Washington Hospital to be present as a dear friend of ours from church would be removed from life support. As I stood in the room, with our friend surrounded by her much beloved family, I thought of my own words in the morning. Jesus would be coming to take her home—and with the eyes of faith that is exactly what He did. As I stood in the room with our friend, thinking about my own diagnosis and the number of days that have been written for me in God’s book while yet one of them came to be, I found great comfort in knowing when that day comes, at the moment I take my last breath, it will be Jesus who meets me and takes me by the hand to lead me home. And through each day, until that unknown day comes, I am promised His presence, that He will by no means, ever leave me, nor forsake me. So, when is faith denial and acceptance doubt? I’m not sure. But it is in Jesus I have put my trust, while praying to the Father “Not my will, but your will be done.” And I find myself resting in perfect peace--borne to me on the wind of the Holy Spirit.