Help Me to Depend (Mark #30)

A few years ago, a well-known rapper received his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame — and on the day of the ceremony he gave a thank-you speech.

It started like every celebrity speech you’ve heard. He thanked the committee that selected him. He thanked his fans for their support. He thanked producers and songwriters and everyone who’d been part of it.

And then he did something different. He thanked one more person.

He thanked himself.

He thanked himself for believing in himself. For doing all the hard work. For taking no days off. For never quitting. For always giving more than he received. For trying to do more right than wrong. For simply being himself at all times.

The Crowd Loved It

Some of you are shaking your heads. The audacity. The brashness. I could never do that.

And yet the crowd was laughing and cheering. And in the comments under the video, people were describing how inspiring it was. That’s the kind of life they wanted to live.

But here’s what I’d argue: even those of us shaking our heads aren’t as different from that speech as we’d like to think.

He was depending on himself. Depending on himself to get up each day, put in the work, and produce something that would connect with people.

And many of you depend on yourself to get up each day, show up at work, be present at home, be a good spouse, be a good parent.

You probably won’t get a star on Hollywood Boulevard. And even if you receive some honor, you likely won’t take the opportunity to thank yourself.

But part of you may quietly hope those things get said about you at your funeral.

You’re an Iowan

It’s built into our culture.

Flood hits? Let’s clear out the basement. Derecho comes through? Grab the chainsaws. Baby arrives? No problem, we’ve got this.

Okay, maybe that last one occasionally overwhelms us.

But even when someone offers to help — can I bring you a meal? Can I come do this for you? — our reflex is: “That’s very kind, but I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

Because deep down we depend on ourselves.

Or You Depend on Something Else

Some of you are thinking: I actually don’t depend on myself.

Maybe that’s because of past mistakes. Maybe it’s where you are with your mental health. Maybe something else in life has you saying honestly, I don’t know how much I can depend on me.

Chances are you’re depending on something else instead. Maybe another person to carry you through this stretch. Maybe substances that bring relief. Maybe a routine you’re convinced will get you through the season, because you can’t count on yourself.

We all depend on something.

Two Warring Factions and One Desperate Man

Today we’ll see two opposing groups, each depending on itself. One depends on knowledge. The other depends on experience.

And right in the middle of them stands one man who appears to depend on nothing and no one. On the surface he looks like the weakest person in the entire story.

And what we’ll discover is that he is the best positioned, the most primed, to be exactly where God wants him.

The Passage

Mark 9:14–29.

Coming down to the other disciples, Jesus finds a great crowd and scribes arguing with them. The crowd sees him, is greatly amazed, and runs to greet him. He asks what they’re arguing about.

A man answers: Teacher, I brought my son to you. He has a spirit that makes him mute, and whenever it seizes him it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.

Jesus answers, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.”

They bring the boy, and the spirit immediately convulses him. He falls and rolls on the ground, foaming.

Jesus asks the father how long this has been happening. Since childhood, he says — and it has often thrown him into fire and into water to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.

And Jesus says: “If you can”? All things are possible for one who believes.

And immediately the father cries out: “I believe. Help my unbelief.”

Jesus rebukes the spirit and commands it out, never to return. It cries out, convulses the boy terribly, and comes out — and the boy looks so much like a corpse that most say he’s dead. But Jesus takes him by the hand and lifts him up, and he rises.

Later, privately, the disciples ask why they couldn’t cast it out. And Jesus says: This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.

Where This Sits

Last week we studied the transfiguration — Jesus taking Peter, James, and John up a mountain, where he begins to shine and Moses and Elijah appear.

This story happens immediately afterward. They’re coming down the mountain. Moses and Elijah are gone. Jesus is back in ordinary clothing.

And as they descend they can hear noise — an argument. Scribes are disputing with the nine disciples who stayed below.

The crowd spots Jesus and rushes him like a celebrity. And he asks what’s going on.

A father steps forward. His son doesn’t merely have epilepsy — which would be terrible enough. He’s convinced the boy is demon-possessed.

He came looking for Jesus. Jesus was up the mountain. So while they waited, the disciples said, “We’ll handle this.” And it didn’t work — which is apparently what triggered the argument.

Group One: The Scribes, Depending on Knowledge

First, what is a scribe?

Scribes were Jewish leaders who spent their entire lives with the Scriptures. On the leadership ladder they weren’t as high as the high priest or the Sanhedrin, but they mattered enormously.

They spent their days copying Scripture — taking a scroll and hand-copying another. No printing press. No print button. Letter by letter. And they had to be meticulous: one mistake and the whole thing was discarded and started over.

Studying it that deeply, they came to know it extraordinarily well — and became the recognized experts in the law. Many also taught in schools: reading, theology. And they functioned something like lawyers, consulted on specific questions of the Mosaic law.

So they were influential, highly educated, and well respected.

Why the Argument Started

I don’t know why these particular scribes were in the crowd. Perhaps they came to evaluate Jesus and compare his teaching against what they knew.

Here’s the relevant background: if you were the disciple of a rabbi, you were expected to become like that rabbi. You learned what he knew so you could teach as he taught and do what he did.

And this rabbi — a carpenter from Nazareth — had begun making a considerable splash. Not just teaching, but healing the sick and casting out demons.

So if that’s what the rabbi does, his disciples should do the same.

The scribes are watching. A father arrives. The boy is afflicted. The disciples try — and fail.

To the scribes, that failure is proof. Either these disciples are frauds, or their rabbi is. They know theologically what should have happened. It didn’t.

So they start mocking, pointing out every error. Here’s what’s wrong with you — because we scribes have studied. We have intimate knowledge of the Scriptures. We know.

They depend on their knowledge.

You Might Be a Scribe

Not that you depend on your knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures — but that you depend on your knowledge.

Some of you want to push back. If I were that intelligent I’d have a doctorate. But many of you are remarkably knowledgeable in your work. If someone asked, you could explain far more than you realize. You know your material.

Others of you know a great deal about sports, or politics, or culture — subjects where you know considerably more than you give yourself credit for.

And when we know we’re informed, duty calls. Our wisdom must be made known.

Yes, it’s a family reunion — but that comment was genuinely wrong, and I have the wisdom to demonstrate why. Yes, it’s the break room — but someone has to supply the solution. Yes, I realize it’s social media — but that comment section clearly needs my wisdom. What could possibly go wrong? This will be a blessing to everyone.

Knowledge Puffs Up

Don’t misunderstand me — knowledge is good and necessary. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t waste your time teaching. I’m trying to give you knowledge right now.

But these scribes were proving what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 8:1 — knowledge puffs up.

They let their knowledge inflate them until there was no room left in their theological box for Jesus or anyone else.

Instead of their knowledge becoming a blessing to others, it puffed them up and diminished everyone around them. And that meant they missed God entirely. They couldn’t see that the Scriptures they knew so intimately were pointing directly to the man walking down that mountain — because they could only see one way.

If knowledge becomes the foundation of your life, you will miss God. You’ll miss what he wants to do in you and through you.

Pursue knowledge — but let it give you a fuller understanding of who God is. Don’t make it your foundation. Depend on Christ.

Group Two: The Nine, Depending on Experience

Nine disciples are at the bottom of that mountain, since three went up with Jesus. And they were depending on their experience.

Picture it. A crowd gathers, they’re waiting for Jesus, and this father appears frantically asking where he is — I need him to heal my son.

And they act like receptionists. Sorry, Jesus is indisposed at the moment. Is there something I could help you with?

“My son is afflicted. There’s a demon.”

And they roll up their sleeves. No problem. Let’s do this.

What on earth would convince them they were up to this?

The fact that they’d done it before.

Back in Mark 6, Jesus sent them out two by two to do what he himself had been doing — preaching that people should repent. And Mark 6:13 tells us plainly: they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.

So they have genuine experience. A father shows up with an afflicted boy, and they think: we’ve got this.

Except they didn’t.

Why It Failed

They ask Jesus themselves in verse 28. And he answers: this kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.

Understand what that means. These disciples were not praying.

They were not relying on God. They were relying on themselves — we’ve done this before, we know how this works.

I don’t know what they attempted. Maybe they announced they were disciples of Jesus. Maybe they tried some formula. What we know is that it failed, and Jesus’s diagnosis was that they hadn’t relied on God’s authority at all.

We Do This Constantly

Some of you have been married a while. I don’t need to rely on God for this — I know how marriage works.

It creeps into parenting. It creeps into how we go to work — I know what I’m doing here.

It’s one of the occupational hazards of preaching every week. You reach a point where you’ve done it so many times that you stop relying on God while doing it.

It seeps into every area of life. And I think God is cautioning us: don’t be like those nine. Don’t lean solely on your experience.

Because the only reason you have that experience is that God gave it to you. He led you through. He’s the one who made you good at it.

So your experience should drive you toward worship and humility — not toward, Thanks, God. You’re great. I’ve got this one.

Again, don’t misunderstand me. Experience is genuinely good, and I want you to have it. That’s exactly why we push service opportunities — mission trips, the food bank, the community meal. Those experiences are how God often works in you to make you look like Jesus.

The danger is when we conclude we have enough experience to coast, and stop relying on God.

And Then There’s the Father

At first glance it looks like he depends on nothing and no one. And when you consider what he’s been through, can you blame him?

We don’t know the boy’s age. We only know that this has afflicted him since childhood.

Perhaps at first he assumed epilepsy. Matthew’s Gospel actually distinguishes between epilepsy and demon possession, so they understood the difference. So he takes his son to physicians — and they can’t help.

It continues. And as he watches, he notices the episodes seem to strike near fire, or throw the boy toward water — as though something is deliberately trying to kill his son.

So now he doesn’t think it’s merely a medical condition. He thinks something else is involved.

So maybe he takes the boy to the synagogue and asks for prayer — and nothing changes.

By now he’s desperate. He’s chasing every remedy anyone suggests — anything at all that might help his son. And none of it works.

And then he hears about Jesus. The miracle worker who has healed the sick and cast out demons — and who has sent out his disciples two by two to do the same.

If anyone can help my son, it’s him.

So he starts asking around. Where is Jesus of Nazareth? Where can I find him? They travel until they locate the place — and Jesus is up the mountain. But his disciples are here, and everyone knows a rabbi’s disciples do what the rabbi does, and these men have already cast out demons on their journeys.

So yes. Please. Help my son.

They lay hands on him. They do whatever they do.

Nothing.

“If You Can”

He’s tried the doctors. He’s tried the priests. He’s tried everything himself. And now he’s tried Jesus’s own disciples — and all of it has failed.

So you cannot blame him one bit when Jesus finally comes down and he says: if you can.

Have you reached that place? Where enough has happened that you’re not sure God is there, or whether he cares — and out of sheer desperation you say, God, I don’t know why it’s going like this, but if you can…

And Jesus looks at him: “If you can”?

He’s challenging him. Where is your faith? What are you depending on?

He Has Nothing Left

And in that moment the man realizes he isn’t like the scribes — he can’t depend on knowledge, because he has no idea what’s wrong with his son or how to fix it.

And he isn’t like the disciples — he can’t depend on experience, because all of his experience says everything fails.

He has nowhere else to turn. He has tried everything. Jesus, you are my last hope.

Which is why he says, “I believe” — and then adds the phrase that makes this story unforgettable:

“Help my unbelief.”

He’s saying: I want to believe, and I’m struggling. This is hard. So God — as you heal my son, would you also heal my faith? Would you help me depend on you?

Paul Knew This Place

In 2 Corinthians 1, Paul tells that church he doesn’t want them unaware of the affliction he experienced in Asia — that they were so utterly burdened beyond their strength that they despaired of life itself.

You’ve heard people say God never gives you more than you can handle. I think Paul would laugh at that. Let me tell you about a time in Asia when we despaired of life itself.

Verse 9: they felt they had received the sentence of death. They thought it was over.

And then the next phrase: but that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.

That is exactly where this father is. The only place left to depend is the person standing in front of him.

That’s Where God Wants You

A place where you will not depend on your reputation. Not your bank account. Not your friends or family. Not your strength, your experience, or your knowledge.

Nothing except him.

And I’ll be honest — that is hard. It is genuinely difficult to let God bring you to the place where everything else has failed and all you have left is God himself.

But it is precisely at that moment that you are most primed to see God do something in you and through you beyond anything you’d have believed.

When people talk about a peace that surpasses understanding — that’s the moment. When you want to genuinely see the love of God and his power — that’s the moment.

So when God allows you to arrive there, it is love that brought you.

A Word of Caution

Someone recently gave me a book they’d found helpful, hoping it would encourage me. As I read it, I realized it was what most people would call a health-and-wealth message.

I’m not exaggerating: the book essentially argues that if you are sick, it’s because you don’t have enough faith. The reasoning is that sickness entered through the fall, and since Jesus died to undo the fall, sickness should therefore be erased — so if you’re suffering, your faith must not be fully in God.

That is precisely what the book promotes. And it included the account of a pastor’s wife who developed cancer.

Now — I believe God can heal. I’ve seen him do it. I pray for it regularly. And this woman believed it too, and prayed continually that God would heal her. By every appearance she had enormous faith.

And she died of her cancer.

That is not how this works. The father in Mark 9 does not arrive with impressive faith. He arrives with almost none — and says so out loud, in front of a crowd. I believe. Help my unbelief.

And Jesus doesn’t send him away to work up more faith first. Jesus heals his son.

So Where Are You?

Are you the scribe, depending on what you know?

Are you one of the nine, depending on what you’ve already done successfully?

Or are you the father — out of options, out of answers, and finally in the one position where God can do something extraordinary?

Father, show us what we need to see here. Help us leave fully dependent on you — not on ourselves, not on anything else in this world. I realize that may mean doing some heart surgery, bringing things to the surface that will be painful.

For those investigating you who don’t yet know you, let today be their spiritual birthday. For those of us who have made you a side thing, let today be full dedication. Do in us what needs doing, so that you are fully glorified and we find the joy we’ve been looking for.

And teach us to pray the most honest prayer in the Gospels: I believe. Help my unbelief. Amen.