Faith as small as a mustard seed can move mountains. That’s what the Bible says. That’s what truth is. Yet, I balk. I tremble. I pull back sharp and hard and hide in fear.
I have no faith. Not really. I tell myself.
Standing around before lunch we talk about what the excavator needs. This old broken piece of machinery that my husband has dissembled and is making a list of parts that are required to fix it again.
“An entire shaft would be the best case scenario,” he says.
Someone laughs, “You won’t find that around here, not for this old of a machine.”
“Now, now,” Dwayne answers, “we’re believing that if we ask God, He is more than able to provide one. If He chooses to say no, then we’ll deal with it at the time, but until then… let’s pray.”
And I feel that nudging on the edge of my mind. The whisper of the Father that speaks. “Tasha, you think that because I said ‘no’ that you never believed. You’re listening to the enemy.”
And it’s true.
I prayed for a child. Then I prayed, not just for any child, but for the one that I loved as if she were already mine. The one that I decorated a bedroom for and changed my life around for.
And when God said “no”, I looked at the mountain, this great towering mountain and thought, “I have no faith. It didn’t move.”
But what is faith? And what are the mountains? That is the real question. What are the mountains?
In Matthew 17 a boy was brought to the disciples to be healed. The child was possessed by a demon but the disciples, the closest followers of Jesus, could not cast it out.
So they brought him to Jesus. And with a word, the demon left.
“Why couldn’t we do that?” the disciples ask.
And Jesus answers, “Because you have so little faith…”
All it takes is faith as small as a mustard seed. Just the tiniest bit. Just the littlest truth will overcome the most enormous lie. The enemy can claim to possess an entire mountain and someone with just the tiniest amount of faith and say, “move”, and the mountain will be gone. Just like that.
My problem is when I assume that the mountains are still there because I did not receive what I longed for.
My problem is when I create mountains out of my wants and forget that God never promised that if I had enough faith I would get everything I desired.
He promised that the smallest amount of faith would shake the strongholds of the enemy.
He promised that in His name I would be able to heal the sick, bind up the brokenhearted, and free the captives.
He promised that with faith in Him, no weapon formed against me would stand.
He never promised that if I had faith, I would have a child.
When we arrived in Alaska we were picked up at the airport by Patrick and Ben. They helped carry our luggage out to a little airplane with four seats. We crawled in and put on headsets then took off into the sky.
We flew over and around giant mountains. We looked down into valleys and riverbeds.
Only God could create such raw beauty. Only God.
And if I pray in faith and He answers “no”, I can believe that the mountains the enemy possessed in this situation have already fallen. They are moved and gone.
I can accept that there are other mountains that need moving.
Motherhood can’t ever be my ultimate goal.
It is not a big enough dream.
It is too shallow and short.
My husband, he looked at me afterward. After the wrestling and the tears and first tastes of sharp pain that come with losing one you love. He looked right at me and he said, “We can do this different, you know. We can just pay out whatever amount of money is needed and keep ourselves separate and free until we’ve paid enough or done enough to get a child. We can do that if you want.”
And I didn’t answer him for a long time.
Then I said quietly, “I don’t want to live on the plains. I want to live in reach of the mountains. I want to touch them and watch them fall. I don’t want what is temporary. I want the eternal.”
And my faith may be small and broken, but I still believe that God will honor it. I still believe that truth will overcome lies. I still believe that the mountains of the enemy will crumble with a single word.
And I’m going to live in reach of the mountains, even if it means that I never have the temporary things I long for.