My son - a precious child.  Special in every way.  Well, of course I would think that way, being his father.  Often people remarked on his good looks and his intelligence.  Oh, there I go again.  It is difficult for a father to tell a story about his son without doing some bragging! 

         He was so young when the illness first attacked him.  He was so young and so helpless against its fierceness.  His mother and I were unable to do anything.   The doctors had nothing to offer him - no relief and no hope for a cure.  We watched him - daily - become worse.  The sickness invaded his small body - stealing his hearing - leaving him unable to speak.  At times it seemed to completely take hold of him and throw him down on the ground.  The violence of these episodes were frightening and seemed to be intent on destroying the boy.  He often would experience one of these terrible convulsions just when passing by a fire or when near one of the pools.  His then frail body would seem to toss itself into one or the other with great force.  Many said he was determined to kill himself.  There was little we could do but be patient, watch and always be ready to rescue him.

            Then one day a neighbor told me of a wonderful Teacher who had done amazing miracles.   She said that this Teacher was accompanied by several followers who also seemed to have the power to heal.  These men were - at that very moment - in a house just a short distance away.  Quickly I dressed my boy and lead him to the house.  I managed to get the attention of one of the men and explained the boys affliction.  He called his companions to join us.  With great compassion they laid their hands upon my son and uttered prayers of such conviction - such as I have never heard before.   They even commanded the sickness to leave his body.  Something stirred within me as I heard their words.  Though I had never heard anything like this before - I knew it was right.  I thought surely my son will recover.  Excitement filled the air.  Everyone watched and waited for the miracle.  We waited - we watched - we waited ....  but it was not to be.  When I finally took my son home he was no worse, but no better than when I had brought him to these men.

          Later there was a commotion in the street and looking to see the cause, I saw the men who had prayed for my son.  With them was the one whom they called Teacher - this man I had heard so much about.  The man who taught of God as though He knew Him personally.  He seemed most often to reach out to us, the common people, with His message of love and forgiveness.  I had to hear him.  I had to get close enough to see Him.  I grabbed by son by the hand and we ran after the crowd.  Somehow we worked our way close enough to be standing right before this great Teacher. 

          I could not help myself - I shouted "Teacher, I brought my son to you!"   I continued to explain all the agony that my son had to bear.  The Teacher seemed for a moment to question why people put up with this - but then He told me that "all things are possible to them who believe".  I tell you, the very second the words were out of His mouth the spirit within me leapt with such joy as I had never before felt.  I knew that what He said was the Truth.  I yelled out loud with the joy of it - an to Him I said, "Lord, I believe, - help me that I will not be weak in my faith".  I felt my faith join with Him - a moment of knowing - of understanding.

          As the crowd gathered in closer to see - once again my son was thrown into the fire - as if to defy the working of faith.  The Teacher looked directly at my son and with a calm, strong voice, calling the sickness by name - commanded it to leave my son.  Not only did He command it to leave - but also never to return!  My son let out a shriek that pierced the air with something that was almost visible pain.  He hit the ground with such force that he looked as though this time the sickness had killed him. Pale and lifeless he lay there in silence.  Then the Teacher reached down - took his hand - and lifted him up. 

          There was no question that my son was different.  Everyone could see it.   First - he could hear me!  His eyes shined with a new life.  His walk was strong and unwavering.  All the way home he talked and talked!  He could not stop talking about what had happened to him.  He told everyone about this great Teacher.  People called him a disciple.  He followed the Teacher learning and then sharing what he had learned with others.  He told us this Teacher was the Messiah.  We had heard that before - but now we knew it was true.  Not just because someone else told us - but because, in faith we had met Him ourselves - and we knew!

          My desire was truly to believe what He had said.  My desire was to believe every word that He said.  My plea to Him was to help me when I seem weak in my faith - to continue in that desire.  My plea was not to help me have faith.  For God said that He has given every man faith.  My plea was that the desire of my heart - to be completely guided by faith in His Word - completely restrained by faith so that fear of what I saw and heard could not have power over me.  My desire was for absolute faith in His Word.  Don't use my plea as an excuse to doubt - remember my plea as a deep desire to walk in faith in God's Word and for that faith to show itself boldly in my life!  

Mark 9: 17 - 27