A while ago, I was on a prayer list with specific requests next to the person's name. The one chosen for me was for "an increase of faith." While I am open to having someone tell me why such a prayer request fits in the Lutheran Confession, I remain disconcerted with the notion that there should be a quantification of the amount of faith a person has. After all, does not our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ tell us that faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain?
I also wondered how the quantity of my current faith was measured. Why was it that increasing my faith was the most important prayer request, as opposed to the other options in the bulletin? Surely, I must have been the poorest excuse for a Christian in the congregation.
So, for me, seeing that prayer request, knowing others were praying such for me never left me feeling encouraged. In fact, each time I read that, that same old works righteousness despair crept over me even though I was in a Confessional Lutheran church. I oft wondered how I would ever reach the measure of enough faith. After all, in 31 years of being a mainline evangelical, I had failed to achieve that mark.
I left that church. I lost my job. I moved. My illness grew exponentially worse. I started the disability application process. Enough became the impossible to me. For each day that passed, for each night filled with innards misery, I truly despaired of having enough faith to endure, to survive, to be the suffering saint I am supposed to be. To have enough faith.
Only the more time I spent in the Christian Book of Concord and the more time I sought refuge in the Psalter, I began to question the petition for an increase of faith. That notion simply does not align with what I read. Nothing of man is a part of salvation. Nothing of man is a part of justification. Nothing of man is a part of righteousness. Nothing of man is a part of sanctification. All of those are the work of our Triune God. The Gospel is enough.
Yes, all throughout the Psalter are pleas of anguish and anger, of confusion and despair. We see in the Psalter that standing against God, living apart from God, lies only destruction and death. For living apart and against is living by faith in our strength, our wisdom, our ways. But the Living Word never leaves the outcome of those prayers in the hands of man. Instead, we see that living by Him, with Him, through Him, in Him lies hope. Indeed, the certitude of rescue, of salvation, of life eternal is always in the hands of God, in His work.
So, to me, in my opinion, quantifying faith, even in a prayer request meant to be of benefit to the brother or sister in Christ, is the wrong focus. By this I mean, the focus is on faith, not Christ. The focus is on faith, not the work of the Holy Spirit. The focus is on faith, not the power and efficacy of the Living Word and the Sacraments. And it brings the possibility of focusing on self, on my faith, when the very faith that saves is the faith of Christ, His perfect faith.
Surely, Christ did not need an increase of faith?
Surely the faith of Christ is not quantifiable?
If the Christian life is a life of reception, that reception also cannot, should not, be quantified. We do not receive a certain measure of Christ's faith and have to grow it or multiply it ourselves. What we receive is whole, complete, sufficient unto all, against all. And, because it is a faith given to us, the possessive pronoun is there because of reception, not because of achievement. Therefore, I tend to look past the pronoun and concentrate on the noun ... on the fact that it is the faith of Christ. Sure. Certain. Perfect. Why would I need more than I have?
The idea of an increase in faith, to me, also seems to contradict that it is in our weakness that we are made strong, in our brokenness, we are made whole. "If I have this great amount of faith, what need then have I of God's strength and mercy and grace?" one could begin to question, leading the believer astray.
In a way, I have come to find a certain refuge, a modicum of peace, in the very fact that my faith does not matter. My strength is irrelevant. I. Me. Mine. All of those personal pronouns I eschew -- perhaps to my detriment -- when it comes to faith. In fact, the only personal pronoun to which I cling is part of a phrase, a propositional phrase where the pronoun is the receiver: for me.
Given for me.
Shed for me.
Suffered for me.
Died for me.
Risen for me.
None of those me-s are of me, of my strength, my faith, my work. They are all about Jesus. About Christ Crucified.
So, were I the one writing those prayer requests next to folks' names, I might ask for healing and for endurance in illness. I might ask for an ease of sorrow and for consolation in grief. I might ask for financial aid and for contentment in all circumstances. I might ask for mercy, for peace, for rest, for refuge. I might ask for care and compassion, for assistance, for aid. I might ask for an increase in opportunities to hear the Living Word, to have others read it to them, to have undershepherds preach for them. I might ask for an increase in strength or in wisdom or in understanding of the Gospel. And I might ask for the gift of faith. But never would I ask for an increase of faith.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!
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