I'm trying to not let the weaknesses show. We're human, after all, made of muscle and flesh and all things real. Weakness is real. Equal in value to strength. Without one we are merely phenoms or failures.

The truth is that I am weak in so many areas. And faith is all of them. "Lord I believe! Help my unbelief" seems to me the most trite of confessions and requests. To claim one thing and ask for it in the next breath seems to me that someone had their portion control a little confused.

Did he have it or not? Can you have it and not at the same time?

And so this is what I think about the past few days. Follow my thoughts, if you will:

If I am on a train that seems to be derailing, my first instinct is to jump off of the train, when shouldn't it be to figure out how to just get it back on track?

And why do I feel so often in a state of derailing? Why do I constantly feel as though every step forward means that tomorrow, or the next day if I'm lucky, I feel like I've taken two steps back?

Why do I feel as though this Helper of mine, who I've received through faith and the laying on of hands, is illusive when I need Him most? When I need Help, He stands on the sidelines, arms crossed and cocked eyebrows surveying the scene. I'm derailing, He's observing.

I think about Peter today. Thinking he had it in him to stand on water, to walk on waves. Flailing out of the boat, firmly set on the fluid beneath him, surprised at his faith, his belief. And yet, a second later, in front of an observing Helper, he begins to sink.

But here's what my thoughts are followed with: that observing Helper does more than just see, He says "Come!"

Come! to the sidelines, Come! to the frontlines. Come! be refreshed. Come! get back on track. Come! be rested. Come! be strengthened. Come! and go again. But just come.

Lord, I believe. I do. Today, right now, this second I believe. But every second is followed by another second and, Lord, I need your help to keep on believing. It doesn't come naturally to me, like weaknesses and flesh. It doesn't come easily to me, like grammar and good lemonade. It isn't part of my spiritual make-up and it doesn't make me invincible.

And all this lack makes me aware that trains derail and so we don't put our faith in the train, but in the tracks. They know the way home. They're pointed there, in the direction of the One who says "Come!"

This gift for this day. The life of faith is lived one day at a time,
and it has to be lived--not always looked forward to as though
the "real" living were around the next corner. It is today for which
we are responsible. God still owns tomorrow.
Elisabeth Elliot

Originally posted April 4, 2008. But learning again today.