Take up Your Cross

“I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.” ~Mark 9:24

All the best prayers are in Scripture. There are the obvious ones, like the Our Father, the Psalms, and most of the Hail Mary. But you can also find other little gems of prayer scattered here and there in the Gospels. Like the request of the centurion which is the perfect prayer with which to approach Communion:

“O Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but say only the word and my servant (or my soul) shall be healed.”  ~Matt 8:8

Or St. Thomas’s declaration of faith: “My Lord and My God” (John 20:28), which can help us adore the Blessed Sacrament. Or what could be a better plea to be freed from sin than the leper’s prayer:

“O Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” ~Matt 8:2

And the publican’s prayer in the parable of the Pharisee and the publican, “O Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13), sums up pretty much everything we ask God for. 

But there's one prayer in the Gospel that I find particularly comforting. A father is begging Christ to heal his son who is possessed, and Christ says:

“Everything is possible to him who believes.” ~Mark 9:23

The boy's father replies, “I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief” (verse 24). And Jesus heals the boy. 

I love this prayer. I believe. I want to believe. But sometimes it's hard. This short scene in the Gospel shows me that that's okay. I can ask God for help to believe in God. 

When I wrote “Take Up Your Cross” for the Ashes anthology, I wanted to write the backstory, the conversion story, of one of the characters in my book, Heaven's Hunter. But as the story took shape, it became not so much his story as the story of the young man who risks his career and his freedom and maybe even his life to introduce him to the Faith—all while having trouble feeling that he believes it.

This story holds a special place in my heart. A cradle Catholic from a devout home, I received an excellent religious education, including college level philosophy and theology courses. I am absolutely convinced on an intellectual level that there is no better system of philosophy, no other explanation of the world that answers the deep human questions so thoroughly and satisfyingly as the Catholic faith. I've encountered dozens of arguments against Catholic doctrine, and none of them stands up to it. I’m also convinced from a historical standpoint that Christianity promotes human flourishing better than any other system and that virtually everything I love about the world today traces its origins to Christ’s teaching. 

And yet despite being a convinced, committed, practicing Catholic who says the daily Rosary, rarely a week goes by in which I don't have trouble feeling like I believe in God. I've struggled with this for years and tried so many different strategies. I've re-read St. Thomas’s proof of the existence of God. I've consulted wise priests. I've tried to argue it out in my head, reminding myself of the pure intellectual joy of delving deep into Thomistic philosophy and natural theology and finding no flaws in the arguments. 

And ultimately none of it really works. Because it's not a lack of being convinced. It's not a lack of Faith. It's a lack of feeling the Faith. 

In my short story “Take up Your Cross” the character realizes—as I finally realized—that those feelings of doubt are not a sin, or even primarily a temptation. They are a cross. A cross to be born in union with Christ, Who cried out:

“O God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” ~Psalm 22:1

Ultimately, the best thing I can do when those feelings hit is to throw myself on God's mercy and say, “I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.” 

In our secular world, I can't imagine that I'm the only cradle Catholic who has trouble feeling like she believes. And yet sometimes it seems that way. I recently heard one Catholic influencer discussing how she “talks to the Lord,” and how the Lord always tells her how much He loves her and how He fulfills her deep need for validation. I don't think she's saying that she's seeing visions or hearing voices. I think she's just having a profoundly different experience of prayer than I usually do. 

And that's great. I'm happy for her. I hope lots of people feel that way when they pray. But I think it's important for people to know that if they don't feel that way, it doesn't mean they don't have Faith, or that they don't love God. After all, St. Therese of Lisieux struggled with feelings of doubt and dryness and abandonment all while being incredibly holy. 

So I wrote “Take Up Your Cross” in case anyone out there shares my particular cross and needs help carrying it. To tell them that even if they have trouble feeling like God even exists, they can still reach out to him in that darkness and say:

“I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.” ~Mark 9:24

And you can also beg, “Let this chalice pass from me” (Matthew 26:39). God will either hear your prayer and take away your cross, or give you the grace to add, “But not my will, but Thine be done.” 

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Please join us on March 2nd as author Carolyn Astfalk reflects on her story, A Big Ask.

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About the author: Marie C. Keiser has been reading insatiably ever since she learned how, and writing almost as long. After teaching middle school for a few years and marrying one of her fellow teachers, she retired from teaching to further her plans for world domination . . . er, that is, to accommodate the needs of her growing family. When she's not plotting with her husband or chasing toddlers around the house, she writes from an undisclosed location surrounded by corn fields. She posts occasional essays and shares news about her books at marieckeiser.com.