I Believe. Help My Unbelief.

Nov 3 / Hannah Stuckey
There are parts of me that want to believe.
Believe that God is good.
That kindness is real.
That I’m mystically and irrevocably supported in this wild, tender world.

And then there are the parts that struggle with that.
Parts of me that are crouched in the corners of fear. Burned. Guarded. Afraid to risk that kind of faith again.

I think of the ancient prayer: I believe; help my unbelief.
This prayer holds both a faith that reaches out and a fear that curls in.
Both parts are welcome. Both things can be true at the same time.

I think many of us treat our unbelieving parts like enemies to overcome. We try to reason with them, silence them, shape them into belief. But I’m learning that the parts of me that struggle to believe are not faithless. More often than not, they’re afraid. They’ve been touched by pain. They’ve seen some things and know life doesn’t always work out according to our plans, our hopes, our dreams.

These parts need care, not correction.

I was recently reminded of a story in the Gospel of John. Jesus had just died. The disciples were afraid and had locked themselves in a room. Everything they trusted had fallen apart. They were in shock, hiding, and protecting themselves from further pain.

Jesus came to them in that very place. He found them exactly where their unbelief and fear had gathered. He offered what their frightened parts needed most—to see with their eyes, to touch with their hands, to experience in their bodies that Love had not left them.

And that’s so great for them. They got to see, to touch, to experience. But how do we know that same presence today?

I wonder, if we are the hands and feet of Jesus today, could we receive his embodied presence when we make ourselves a nourishing meal, when we rest our hands on our chest, when we breathe into our bellies and let our shoulders drop down? Could we receive his embodied presence through the kindness of another? A text that steadies us, the gaze of a loving friend, a conversation that welcomes and embraces the pain we’re carrying in our heavy hearts and frantic minds?

Faith grows by allowing Love to find us, not by forcing belief.

When we offer curiosity to the parts of us that doubt. When we listen deeply to what those parts need. When we let peace come to us through our own embodied presence or that of another—then faith doesn’t have to be forced. We can begin to soften, to heal, and even, to take the risk of trusting once again.

What might it look like to let those tender parts of you be found by Love today?

Hannah Stuckey
Hannah Stuckey served as a spiritual formation pastor in SE Portland and now works at Leadership Center (leadershipcenter.com) —helping leaders grow in personal and organizational wellness.

She is also the Assistant Director for the Institute for Pastoral & Congregational Thriving at Portland Seminary (georgefox.edu/thriving), where she earned a Masters in Ministry Leadership.

Hannah is certified in Narrative Focused Trauma Care through the Allender Center. Hannah and her husband, Mark, live in Portland with his son, Sawyer, their dog, Teva, and three delightful chickens.