I Doubt It

Stressed. Irritable. Anxious.

Such was occasionally my mood Tuesday evening as I anticipated the two events on my Wednesday morning calendar. It doesn’t matter what those two events were. Just know you have them, too:

* Daunting tasks
* Pressing responsibilities
* Challenging errands
* Questions you have to ask or answer
* Deadlines you have to meet or impose
* People you have to confront or contend with.

It wasn’t that I knew things would go badly Wednesday; it was that I feared that they would. That’s it! As Tuesday ended, I feared that Wednesday morning could devolve into failure, that the two events in question would produce unwanted encounters and ill-fated results, that either I or those around me would not respond as needed if I were to avoid. . . . . . . .

You know what? I don’t know what I was afraid of. I just know I was afraid. Not nerves-on-edge fear. Not sweatin’ bullets anxiety. Rather, an internal dis-ease, a disturbed personal equilibrium, an unsettled spirit.

It’s happened to me before. Many times before. Every time I have meetings or events like the two on Wednesday morning, in fact. Same feeling. Same discomfort. Same fear.

There was, however, a glimmer of hope Tuesday night, just before I went to sleep. I remember my saying “God will provide.” Translation: God will get me through the morning. We speak that phrase often in our congregational conversation; I say it myself several times a week. But I knew, saying something was very different from experiencing it.

Wednesday morning came and went. No hitches. No catastrophes. No unresolvable conflicts. In fact, both events went well – much better than my Tuesday night frets projected. Driving away from the second event I whispered a prayer something to the effect, “You did it again, God. Thanks.” Translation: You provided. . . . just like I thought you would.

So if I thought God would provide, why the funk the night before? Ask the father in the ninth chapter of Mark whose son’s body convulses in horrific seizures against which the best efforts of Jesus’ disciples are ineffectual. In response to the father’s request that he do something about his son’s condition, Jesus replies, “Anything is possible if a person believes.” The father says he does believes, but adds, “Lord, help me not to doubt.”

I say ask the father about my funk because he’s me! He believes, or so he says. He probably worships regularly, reads Scripture faithfully, and endorses a “God provides” platform. He must have a developed spirituality of some form – my goodness, he knows enough to seek out Jesus. Yet, his son’s well-being in the hands of history’s greatest healer, the father doubts. That’s me.

My Wednesday morning in the hands of the God of every day, of all time, and I doubted. On record that Jesus can lead me through fire, through storms, through untamed wilderness, and I doubted.

The next time Tuesday night doubts arise I probably won’t escape the nagging fears, but I will know to remember that father’s request of Jesus: Lord, help me not to doubt.


Pray with me:
God, you know me better than I know myself. That makes sense: Creators tend to know their creations. So I guess you know my fears, too. Can you help me understand them? Oh, I would love it if you would take them away, but something tells me I will have to understand them before I conquer them. Something else tells me I won’t do that alone. In fact, the next time a Tuesday night arrives, expect me to call on you. . . . As I do right now in the name of Jesus, Amen.


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P.S. I invite you to leave us a comment about your experience of doubt and fear (if you have any, that is; and if you don’t, then don’t leave us a comment – write us a book!). I suspect this is one topic on which we need to learn a lot from each other.