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H AVE M ORE F AITH The message at church last Sunday was simple. In fact, I can sum it up for you in just three words: “Have more faith.” I wanted to scream. Perhaps you’ve sat in that seat before. You know, when a person who doesn’t know you very well gives you the kind of advice that falls under the category ‘Been There, Tried That, Hasn’t Worked Yet.’ Don’t you just want to scream? If I may sidestep, for a moment, the bounds of Good Christian Conduct (GCC), I have to admit that I wanted to punch that sermon right between the legs. Forgive my candor. But seriously, is this really what we need? All right, GCC back in play—I do believe this pastor has a good heart, and that he wants the best for his congregation. And no, I don’t want to punch him between the legs. Still, I hate this message. Hate? Yes, and for two reasons: First, the order is hopeless. Second, the order is harmful. 1. It is hopeless because faith, unlike baking a cake, is not something we can be talked into doing. Some hungry friends may talk me into baking a cake. And as a result I may be more apt to bake a cake. But can faith be made in the same way? Is faith something we can do, and for that matter, do‐more when told to try harder? 2. And not only is this advice hopeless; it is also harmful. It is harmful in that it leads us away from, not towards, the answer to our problems. Does a doctor prescribe a mirror to a sick man? Yet that is the essence of this message. It is a mirror unto ourselves. The call to ‘more faith’ assumes faith is something we create, and that in creating it we are made well—“I need to muster up more faith.” That is a lie. The moment we take in this advice, we (not God) become the antidote to our dilemma. And as we are all coming to know, apart from Him we can cure nothing. So what’s the alternative? Had my mouth not followed the GCC last Sunday, what would it have screamed? Simply this: Faith, at its origin, is not an act of the will. It is a seeing of the heart. “But isn’t walking by faith an act we willfully choose to do?” Yes, but before faith walks, it first sees. Entertain me a moment and imagine a pond, six feet deep, frozen across from bank to bank. Upon first glance, I can see that the pond is frozen, but I do not yet know the depth or strength of the ice. Now let’s suppose the ice is strong enough to hold me. Let’s even say this pond is frozen solid from top to bottom. But I do not know this. And so I am hesitant to step out onto the unknown.
