unbelief: n. An absence
of belief.
belief: n. Mental acceptance of a
claim as true. Faith or trust in the reality of something; often based upon
one’s own reasoning, trust in a claim, desire of actuality, and/or evidence
considered.
I wonder if he knows I’m the one who feeds him.
I heard him before I saw him. I’ve learned to
recognize the click-clicking sound of my resident hummingbird. He frequents a
feeder filled with sugar water hanging on my back patio. Many hummers feed
while poised mid-air, beating their wings. This little
guy plants himself on the perch of the feeder and guzzles away—often for long
periods at a time.
Today, while I dug in the soil, seeking renewal
of my mind and spirit, he sat, like a sentinel, atop the highest branch of the
nearby lilac bush. Typically, hummingbirds appear to be in a non-stop
flight mode, vaguely resembling miniature bombers as they flap their wings up
to four thousand times per minute. Not so, this little guy. He knows how to
have his “down” time.
I head for the outdoors and fresh air when
claustrophobia sets in. Winter has just officially started, but weeds
have already begun to cover any bare soil with bright green vegetation. Several
industrial-sized garbage bags filled with leaves waited to be spread on my
garden. It was late in the day and quite cool. Dressed
in warm clothes, I responded
to my garden’s beckoning.
These kinds of tasks create the opportunity for hands-and-knees kind of thinking. No
one interrupts, and the mindless work frees up my mind for thought. The moist
soil allowed the weeds to come out easily. I cleared an area to stack with
leaves that would compost, enriching the soil.
Periodically I glanced up and noted my
feathered friend was still sat on his
observation post. Occasionally he did
dash away to some very important appointment but quickly returned to his
station. When I’m in this pensive frame of mind, I don’t keep track of time. It
was just God and me—and the hummingbird made three.
I have carried a heavy heart recently. Relief
and peace evade me in these troubling times; worries and inner turmoil plague
me as I seek the “peace that passes all understanding.”
The hummingbird’s presence served as a reminder:
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than
they?” [2] I
cannot deny the love and care God has given me throughout my life. He deserves
far more trust and respect than I am giving Him.
As darkness approached, I gathered my
tools. “Help my unbelief,” my
heart cried as I went inside to the welcoming warmth. The hummer flew off
to settle down for the night as well.
Christ’s ministry on earth lasted three years.
It began with His ordination by the Holy Spirit when John baptized Him. It
ended with His crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension into heaven.
During this time, He called
twelve to walk with Him. These ordinary men left their lives and families to
follow Him and to be taught. They became part of an extraordinary event taking
place before their eyes, one that would be chronicled as a pivotal point in the
history of mankind.
The Scriptures tell about three
of the disciples--Peter,
James, and John—going with Christ to a mountaintop. There, God Himself verified
that Christ was His beloved Son when Jesus visibly changed into His heavenly
form before their eyes.
Masses of people followed Christ wherever He
went during His time of ministry. While the four were on the mountain, a crowd
formed below and waited. A father who brought his demon-possessed son to be
healed was part of the large throng. I can only imagine the disappointment and
heartache he experienced—going from the highest hope to the lowest low--when
none of the disciples there could free the young man. In that emotional
devastation, doubt most certainly overwhelmed him.
When Jesus came back down from the mountain, the
father told Him of the circumstances in his young boy’s life: An evil spirit
caused his son to be deaf and mute, brought seizures, and tried to destroy him
by casting him into fire or water. He begged Jesus for help. “All things can be
done for the one who believes,” Jesus responded.
As tears rolled down his face, the dad cried
out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” With
that Jesus rebuked the foul spirit and ordered it to come out of the child and
never enter again.
Later, the disciples privately asked why they couldn’t
cast the demon out. “This kind can come out only through prayer,” Jesus answered.
The world is in a state of upheaval. I live in a
divided nation--brother
against brother, one way of governing in direct opposition to another. A global
pandemic that threatened lives while altering our freedoms has left an
aftermath of fear, regulations, and unanswered questions. Riotous destruction
without consequence rages through many cities as pervasive lawlessness reigns.
And it transpired in what feels like the blink of an eye.
I have been living like a yo-yo recently. I’m
up. Then I am down. I am a person of faith, and I know in my heart that nothing
happens that is separate from God, including right here, right now. I can
relate to that father and his dichotomy--the
appearance of a contradiction of faith.
How can I believe and still have unbelief?
Doubt is the leavening of unbelief. It may come
in a torrential flood or silently move in like a stifling fog. The underlying
goal of doubt never varies. That goal is to challenge the validity and strength
of one’s faith. Care must be taken to keep doubt outside the door instead of
allowing it to walk in and take up residence.
Living life with God is a process. There is
nothing magical about it. Much of that process requires digging deep, grinding
out the nitty-gritty of things. Unbelief falls in that category. Its presence
cannot be willed away by mind power and needs to be dealt with---by
God and in His presence.
“I do believe. Help my unbelief.”
I am at His mercy. As are you.
By the way, I read that hummingbirds do
recognize people. Although they are territorial, I believe my resident hummer
knows I am the one who feeds him. He has been given to me by God and offered
support as two very different types of gardens were dealt with—my outer
physical garden as well as my
inner.
I am blessed.
