The Servant and Our Faith | Mark 9:14-29
Sermon Summary
Have you ever stood in a moment and thought, “I can’t believe I’m here right now”? Maybe it happened when you traveled to that dream destination you saved up for years to see. Or perhaps it was that very first glimpse of your bride walking down the aisle. Or the day you held your newborn in your arms, marveling at this astonishing gift of life. Moments like these can sweep over us with a sense of awe, the kind that makes us pause and say, “I cannot believe this is happening.”
For me, one of those moments came when my wife and I visited Israel. Specifically, it was the privilege of sitting in the Garden of Gethsemane and praying in the place where our Lord Jesus prayed. We knew it wasn’t about the location itself—God meets us wherever we are—but simply being there, surrounded by ancient olive trees, profoundly stirred our faith. We found ourselves saying, “I can’t believe we get to experience this.”
Now, there’s a story in the Gospel of Mark that captures a similarly breathtaking “mountaintop moment.” Peter, James, and John go up a high mountain with Jesus and witness His transfiguration. They see Him shine in radiant glory, briefly unveiling His divine majesty. In that same instant, they glimpse Moses and Elijah, two towering figures of Israel’s history, also glorified. Imagine standing there, half-asleep, waking to that! But right when glory fades and they descend the mountain, they reenter the messy chaos of everyday life. The rest of the disciples are embroiled in a heated dispute, and a desperate father pleads for someone to help his demon-possessed son.
From that riveting passage (Mark 9:14–29), we learn how quickly we can go from mountaintop wonder to the challenges of real-life “valleys.” We discover truths about faith—its necessity and power—especially when storms close in around us. With that in mind, let’s look at three main points:
The Problem of Faithlessness
The Priority of Faith in Christ
The Power of Prayerful Dependence
The Problem of Faithlessness
When Jesus and His three disciples come down from their extraordinary vision on the mountain, they meet turmoil at the bottom. A crowd has gathered, and the remaining nine disciples are in the thick of a dispute with the scribes. These religious experts are grilling them—really more like arguing. The disciples stand there, unable to resolve the situation or defend themselves.
It turns out that a desperate father brought his demon-possessed son to them for deliverance, but the nine could not cast out the spirit. Bear in mind: these same disciples had previously gone out two by two, healing the sick and casting out demons by Jesus’s authority (Mark 6:7–13). They had tasted firsthand the thrill of ministering in Jesus’s power. But now they stand completely stymied.
Feeling the tension, Jesus arrives and asks, “What are you discussing?” The father steps out and explains how this evil spirit torments his son—causing seizures, foam at the mouth, and even attempts on the boy’s life by throwing him into fire or water. Then come those painful, indicting words: “I spoke to Your disciples, but they could not cast it out.”
Jesus’s response might startle us. He says, “O faithless generation, how long shall I be with you?” (Mark 9:19). In other words, “I’ve been walking with you, teaching you, showing you the power of God—and still you don’t believe?” He’s not merely addressing the surrounding crowd; He’s including the disciples, too. They have slipped into what we might call “automatic” ministry, relying on their past experiences rather than fresh faith in the Lord.
Faithlessness, in essence, is misplaced trust. It’s when we rely on our own methods, past successes, or personal abilities instead of fixing our faith on Jesus. We’re prone to do the same today. We rely on well-worn formulas—“I’ve done it before; I’ll just do it again”—and forget God’s active presence. Faithlessness can creep into our walk with Christ if we’re not diligently seeking Him. When that happens, we find we cannot overcome spiritual battles in our own strength. Sooner or later, we stand baffled like those nine disciples, asking, “What went wrong?”
When Jesus declares “O faithless generation,” He points out the core issue: They have head knowledge about Him, but they’re missing that living, daily dependence on Him. What a call for us to examine our hearts. Are we doing ministry, or living our Christian life, in “auto-pilot,” or are we truly walking with Him day by day?
The Priority of Faith in Christ
As the commotion swirls, Jesus asks for the boy to be brought to Him. Immediately, the demon seizes the child, causing violent convulsions. The father is at his wit’s end, and you can almost hear the heartbreak in his words: “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us” (Mark 9:22). This is a desperate man who has watched his son suffer—tossed into fires, nearly drowned in water, all attempts by the evil spirit to destroy him.
Yet the father’s request is a bit off: “If you can do anything…” He’s not fully convinced Jesus can do this. Yes, he believes Jesus is powerful, but after seeing the disciples fail, he’s likely shaken. Jesus responds: “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” In other words, Jesus corrects him: “It’s not about if I can. I can! The real question is whether you truly believe.”
We should pause here, because some take this verse and twist it into a “name it and claim it” promise—thinking if we just try hard enough, we can muster up “faith” to guarantee God will do exactly as we desire. But biblical faith is not about twisting God’s arm; it’s about trusting God’s heart. If I declare, “God, I believe You will certainly heal this or that,” but it isn’t actually His will, I’m setting myself up for bitter disappointment. True faith never goes beyond God’s revealed Word. We pray in line with Scripture and submit to the wisdom of our sovereign Lord. Yes, we pray boldly for miracles. Yes, we believe God can do anything. But we hold that tension with humility, acknowledging God’s supreme knowledge of what is best.
Notice how the father responds—he utters one of the most honest and hopeful prayers in all of Scripture. Through tears, he cries out, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). That is the posture of faith we need—an admission that our faith, while sincere, is still imperfect. When life’s pressures intensify and doubts creep in, it’s a gift to say, “Lord, I’m here. I do believe. I’m trusting You as best I can, but I’m also struggling with lingering fear and questions. Help me.” Jesus never scolds honest doubt that turns toward Him. Far from it—He moves in compassion.
Right after the father’s declaration, Jesus delivers the child. The demon resists, convulses the boy terribly, then departs. For a moment, onlookers think the boy is dead, but Jesus takes him by the hand, lifting him up, completely free. It’s a total and immediate healing. Faith in Christ—however halting or mixed with hesitation—takes us to the only One who has real power. There’s no better place to bring our burdens, our heartbreak, our “help my unbelief” moments, than to Jesus.
The Power of Prayerful Dependence
Once the crowd settles, the disciples approach Jesus privately. You can sense the weight on their hearts: “Why could we not cast it out?” (Mark 9:28). After all, they used to cast out evil spirits. What changed?
Jesus’s short reply reveals a deep lesson: “This kind can come out by nothing but prayer and fasting” (Mark 9:29). Christ underscores that certain spiritual battles demand a renewed, humble, prayer-soaked dependence on God. When Jesus references prayer and fasting, He’s pointing to a way of life that recognizes we are hopeless without God. Prayer acknowledges our need for divine help; fasting amplifies that cry, showing we depend on God even more than daily food and routine comforts.
The disciples had apparently grown self-assured. They had relied on “we’ve done this before” muscle memory rather than leaning on fresh communion with the Lord. When we attempt spiritual battles in our own strength, we’re unarmed and powerless. But when we seek God earnestly—through prayer, through sometimes setting aside meals to focus on Him—we realign our hearts with His will. We draw on His immeasurable resources.
Even now, we find ourselves in an ongoing spiritual war. The devil seeks to devour, to isolate us, and to fill our lives with doubt or complacency. If we don’t stay alert in prayer, we might fight today’s battles with yesterday’s faith, with last week’s time in the Word, or last month’s fervency. Instead, the Lord calls us to daily come before Him, acknowledging, “Lord, there’s a new battle today. I can’t rely solely on what happened before. Fill me afresh. I need You now.”
This is the essence of prayerful dependence. It’s not simply tacking on a quick prayer before we rush off to solve problems ourselves. It’s choosing a posture of abiding, step by step, in the presence and power of Jesus. It’s the humility to say, “I’ve got no illusions about being able to do this on my own,” and then looking to the Savior who joyfully meets us in our need.
One final encouragement: prayerful dependence isn’t just for the extreme, crisis-level conflicts. It’s for everyday life. We don’t want to treat prayer like a last-ditch effort only when everything else fails. Jesus taught, “Abide in me… apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:4–5). That means not only casting out demons or facing catastrophic trials, but also raising children, reconciling relationships, and serving faithfully in our local church. In every sphere, we need prayerful, moment-by-moment dependence on Christ.
Reflection
Perhaps you find yourself in a place today where you’re thinking, “I’ve tried everything, and nothing works,” or “I’m dealing with doubts I didn’t see coming.” You might feel like that father—desperate, uncertain, yet clinging to hope that Jesus can and will make a difference. Or maybe you resonate with the nine disciples, wanting to serve God effectively but stalling out when the storm of spiritual warfare gets fierce.
Here’s the invitation: Come back to Jesus. Acknowledge your incomplete faith, your self-reliance, and your frustration. He is neither shocked nor repelled by your struggles. Instead, He invites you to “bring him to Me”—to lay that burden, that perplexing situation, at His feet. He welcomes heartfelt prayers like, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” That honest confession is itself evidence of a faith that God can work with, a faith that looks not inward to self but upward to His sovereign grace.
We see, through the healing of that tormented child, that Jesus cares about real pain, real desperation, and real human need. The Gospel is not an abstract theory; it’s the good news that Christ meets us right in our messy moments—where life is anything but glamorous—and shows us His power to save, restore, and heal. Whether you’re struggling with sin you can’t shake, bearing a heartache that keeps you awake at night, or simply needing God’s refreshment to keep going in your daily responsibilities, know that Jesus stands ready.
But remember: we can only overcome spiritual battles in His strength. So let’s be honest about our weaknesses. Let’s humbly confess any faithlessness and come to Him in prayer and, if needed, in fasting—letting that hunger in our stomach remind us how much we need the Lord. When we intentionally make space to seek Him, we align our hearts with His will. We remember that He is able and that He is compassion embodied.
So, church family, I encourage you: Don’t let your faith remain head knowledge alone. Let it sink into your heart. Let it shape your daily dependence on Him. And if you find yourself on that mountaintop of spiritual joy, praise God. Savor those moments. But don’t forget that many of life’s toughest lessons about faith are learned in the valley, where conflicts rage, confusion swirls, and we have nowhere else to turn but straight to Jesus.
And if you’re someone still exploring who Jesus is—wondering if He really can transform your life and forgive your sin—the answer is the same: turn to Him in faith. He is the One who meets us in our brokenness and says, “If you believe, all things are possible.” He’s your hope for true, eternal life.
Let’s then be a people who say, both in our brightest and darkest moments, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” And may we walk, day by day, in the power and joy of prayerful dependence on the One who is worthy of all our trust.
