Emmanuel Lewis
Because of a website issue, Saturday’s teaching didn’t upload, but here it is, family! I thank you for your patience…MaryEllen.
There is a kind of faith we celebrate because it is easy to recognize. It is the faith that shouts. The faith that dances when the door opens. The faith that testifies when the prayer has been answered. The faith that says, “Look what the Lord has done!” And we should celebrate that faith.
But there is another kind of faith that rarely gets celebrated.
It is quieter. It doesn’t always have a testimony yet. Sometimes it is sitting in a hospital room. Sometimes it is driving home after receiving news you didn’t expect. Sometimes it is staring at an unanswered prayer and wondering how many more times you are supposed to say, “I trust You.” Sometimes faith is simply getting on your knees with tears in your eyes and no eloquent prayer left. It is the faith that exists somewhere between what God said and what you can see.
That is the tension.
And perhaps some of the deepest faith God ever develops in us is formed there. Not when everything makes sense. But when it doesn’t. We love God’s promises, but we struggle with the space between the promise and its fulfillment. God told Abraham he would become the father of many nations, but Abraham still had to wait. Joseph dreamed of greatness, but before he reached the palace, he found himself in a pit. David was anointed king, but the anointing did not immediately put a crown on his head. Israel was promised a land flowing with milk and honey, but a wilderness lay between Egypt and Canaan.
Scripture doesn’t hide this tension. It puts it on display.
Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
What we do not see. That is where faith becomes necessary. If you could see everything, predict everything, and explain everything, you wouldn’t need faith. Faith begins where your ability to control the outcome ends. And that’s uncomfortable.
We would rather have a five-year plan from God than a daily dependence on God. We want the entire staircase illuminated before we take the first step. But God often gives enough light for the next step. Maybe because God isn’t merely trying to get us somewhere. Maybe He is teaching us how to walk with Him.
Few things test faith like unanswered questions. Why did this happen? Why didn’t God heal them? Why did the relationship end? Why did the opportunity disappear? Why did the door close? Why am I still waiting? The Bible is filled with people who asked questions. David questioned. Jeremiah wrestled. Habakkuk questioned why evil seemed to prosper. Job demanded an explanation for suffering he could not understand.
And yet God did not discard them for wrestling thoughts.
God is not intimidated by your questions. You don’t have to protect God from your honesty. Bring Him the anger. The disappointment. The confusion. The fear. The doubt. The grief. He already knows what is happening inside of you. Job eventually said, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” — Job 42:5 NIV.
Job received something greater than an explanation. He encountered God. Sometimes we ask God, “Why?” And God answers by revealing “Who.” Not always the reason. But Himself. One of the most dangerous assumptions we make in difficult seasons is that if God isn’t speaking, God must not be present.
But silence and absence are not the same thing.
There will be seasons when Scripture feels quiet, prayer feels difficult, worship feels like a routine, and you keep asking while nothing seems to change. You may wonder if heaven has your address. But faith learns something in those seasons: God’s presence cannot be measured by your feelings. You may feel abandoned while being held. You may feel forgotten while being remembered. You may feel lost while God is leading you.
Your feelings are real, but they are not reliable interpreters of reality.
This is why our faith cannot ultimately rest on how we feel about God. It must rest on who God is. Hebrews 13:8 reminds us: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” Your emotions change. Your circumstances change. Your relationships change. Your plans change. Your season changes. God doesn’t.
So when everything around you is moving, anchor yourself to what remains.
There is also a dangerous version of Christianity that makes certainty sound like maturity. It teaches us that strong Christians never question, struggle, doubt, or feel afraid. But Scripture tells a different story. A father once brought his suffering son to Jesus. He wanted to believe, but he knew unbelief lived inside him. His prayer was painfully honest: “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” — Mark 9:24 NIV.
What a prayer.
He didn’t pretend. He didn’t clean up his emotions before approaching Jesus. He simply said, “Lord, there is faith in me, but there is also fear. Help me.” And Jesus met him there. Maybe that’s something we need to recover. Faith isn’t pretending you have no questions.
Faith is refusing to let your questions become greater than God.
You can say, “I don’t understand,” and still say, “I trust You.” Those statements are not enemies. Sometimes they are the very place where mature faith begins. Consider Jesus in Gethsemane. He knew what was coming. He prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” — Matthew 26:39 NIV.
Jesus asked for another way. He already knew there wasn’t one. From Friday’s perspective, it looked like everything had gone wrong. The Messiah was beaten, mocked, rejected, and crucified. The disciples scattered. Hope appeared to have died.
But the disciples were judging Friday without knowing Sunday was coming.
And we do the same thing. We judge a chapter before God has finished the story. We look at the closed door and call it rejection. We look at the delay and call it denial. We look at the wilderness and call it abandonment. We look at the grave and assume the story is over. But Christianity was born from a grave that wasn’t the end. The cross looked like defeat. It became redemption. The grave looked like an ending. It became a doorway.
So be careful about judging God on Friday when Sunday is still coming.
Faith is not trusting God because you know He will give you what you want. True faith eventually reaches the place where it can say: “God, I trust You even when the path is unclear.” Even if the door stays closed. Even if the answer is no. Even if the healing doesn’t come in the form I expected. Even if the dream changes. Even if the timeline is longer than I wanted. Even if I never understand why.
That kind of faith doesn’t merely trust God’s hand. It trusts God’s heart.
Trusting God’s hand says, “I trust what You will do.” Trusting God’s heart says, “I trust who You are, regardless of what You do.” That is surrender. So keep walking. Keep praying. Keep seeking. Keep believing. Not because you know exactly what tomorrow holds. But because you know who holds tomorrow.
Some days, faith feels like fire. Some days, faith feels like a whisper. And there will be days when faith feels like nothing more than getting out of bed and saying: “Lord, I’m still here.” Don’t underestimate that prayer. Sometimes staying is an act of worship. Sometimes getting back on your knees is victory. Sometimes faith doesn’t look like conquering the mountain. Sometimes faith looks like refusing to stop walking toward God while you’re still in the valley. There is a place between promise and proof, where heaven feels distant, and questions have roots. Where prayers seem unanswered, and nights seem too long, where the heart grows weary from trying to be strong.
But faith keeps breathing, though answers delay. It walks through the darkness, still choosing the Way. For maybe the miracle isn’t the storm disappearing, but discovering God was there while you were fearing. And maybe the deepest faith isn’t knowing what comes next.
Maybe it is knowing who holds what comes next.
So when you cannot see His hand, trust His heart. When you cannot understand His plan, trust His character. When you cannot hear His voice, remember His Word. And when you don’t know what to do next, take the next faithful step because faith was never about having all the answers. Faith is about knowing the One who does. You can live without knowing how the story will end because you know the Author has not stopped writing.
That is faith in the tension.
Have you put whatever faith you have in Jesus? Have you chosen to make Him your Lord and Savior? If not, won’t you take that life-saving step today…
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