A few weeks ago, I was standing in front of a group of children and volunteers at a church camp. We had spent two-and-a-half weeks together and were celebrating on the last day. As I stared at young and older faces, many bearing remnants of the cake they’d just consumed, tears burgeoned in my eyes. We were at the end.
It was bittersweet. We were all tired; the long days and longer nights had taken their toll, especially on the counsellors. But through that camp God had reminded me of His willingness to take care of us, especially when we are about His will.
Yet after the camp ended, I soon found myself crushed by unbelief, even though I had just witnessed God’s commitment to His people at camp.
Kids for the King Ministry
Kids for the King is a ministry that serves at-risk youth in the communities surrounding my local church in Jamaica. The mission of the ministry is to teach children about God while closing any literacy and numeracy gaps they had. God birthed this splendid mission 12 years ago through my church aunt and mentor.
Almost every year, our church and God's people have put together a summer camp, which is an exciting period of focused reading and mathematics. Though I'd volunteered in the weekly ministry, I had never been available to serve at the summer camps, so I didn’t know what it entailed.
When God sends, He also equips
Unbeknownst to me, my aunt had been sensing that God wanted her to run the camp this year. When she obeyed, she did it without money, counsellors or campers. But we often forget that God is more invested in saving and redeeming lives than we are; He has more skin in the game. I watched her cast her cares on God, and I watched Him answer. He sent money (from our church and private donors), campers and counsellors.
I wasn’t even supposed to be at the camp. My plans had been to go to London to visit my sister and her new baby. When I realized that London wasn’t going to happen I was excited to be a part of the camp - as a counsellor who could stay in the background, supporting my aunt and the other seasoned counsellors.
By the start of the camp, it began to dawn on me that God had equipped me not to be in the background, but to lead. I hadn’t asked for it nor expected it, but once I realised what role He had called me to, I walked into it and witnessed His care.
But what had I witnessed at camp?
I watched God answer my aunt’s prayers. We were a young, untried group of counsellors, yet God helped us meet the needs of most of our campers. In particular we watched most of their behaviour improve over the course of the camp.
I watched children who came in, hardened against God and people, but interested in free meals, soften and give their lives to God.
I watched God protect us from serious illnesses. If anyone, camper or counselor started feeling unwell, God answered our prayers and they were soon well again.
One camper, who was only 7-years-old and had suffered two strokes that caused him to regress to pre-reading levels, experienced a miracle. When he started with us, he had been having trouble identifying letters. He’d treated us and the campers with wariness, stubbornness, and silence.
We prayed for and with him, and his whole demeanour changed. He started participating in devotions and team activities. He started to smile more and skulk less. Where before his reading was like watching a clumsy cha’cha slide (one step forward, two steps backward) he started progressing - like remembering letter sounds and blends.
Jesus challenges a father’s unbelief
Mark chapter 9 verses 14 to 29 tells the tale of a father with a son who has been tormented by an evil spirit since his childhood. The father had asked the disciples to cast it out, but they were unable to. Jesus, having come down from his Transfiguration, was approached by the father, who begged Him to cast out the demon.
Jesus employed it as an opportunity to challenge the man’s unbelief, and ours in the process.
In verse 23, Jesus encourages: “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.”
I feel that challenge in my bones for a loved one who was diagnosed with vascular dementia almost a year ago.
Since even before the diagnosis, I had been praying with a group of close friends for my dear friend. When the diagnosis came, we prayed even more earnestly for healing. Yet, I increasingly felt the helplessness of unanswered prayers.
Help my unbelief!
Why wasn’t God answering my prayer? I’m sure the father asked that question. But following the summer camp, where I had watched God’s hand in the lives of both the counsellors and the campers, and particularly the camper who'd had the strokes, the Holy Spirit showed me my heart: I had no faith for healing.
In embracing God’s will as sovereign, I hadn’t left space in my heart to hope that God would heal my loved one’s mind.
But after that camp, and seeing God’s hand - remembering His faithfulness and care - I now choose to respond like the father when he, with tears, cried out to Jesus, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”