Have You Still No Faith?

3rd Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 4:35-41

You may remember from last week’s sermon that I spoke a little about context. That was actually a not so veiled attempt at doing a little pastoral teaching about the way in which we ought to approach the scriptures when we study. If you would allow me this morning, I want to approach this sermon in two parts: in the first part, I want to again illustrate a point about how we ought to study the scriptures; and in the second part, I want to take off on a particular tangent from the little phrase from our lesson this morning that I think speaks to our lives. Okay?? Here we go!!

Eight years ago today was my last Sunday across town at First Baptist Church. It happened that it became my last Sunday in two actions – First Baptist decided that they did not want me to be their future pastor, and Cornerstone decided that they did want me as their pastor. I do not regret at any level the events which led to the beginnings of this congregation. However, the events which led to the decision by First Baptist occasionally give me cause for contemplation and some measure of sadness. In analyzing why that church did not vote to bring me on as pastor (after what can only be characterized as an extremely successful interim pastorate of some nine months), I have long ago come to the conclusion that there were two reasons – I was seen as the man who wanted to relocate the church, and I was considered by some to be a liberal. The latter was believed by some in that congregation at least in part because I refused to use the word “inerrant” to describe my theological position regarding the truth and efficacy of the scriptures. I still will not – I think the word “inerrant” is a weak word – if you enter into a discussion regarding the word as applied to scripture, you inevitably spend no less than thirty minutes defining the term, and in my book, that makes it a weak word, and thus rather ineffective as a descriptor. I much prefer the term “authoritative” – a word that has immediate implication for our lives.

I want to go a step further with this. Inerrant is a weak term at the root of its definition because the very definition always says that “the scriptures are inerrant “in the original manuscripts.” That may very well be true. However, the problem is that we don’t possess any of the original manuscripts. The copy of the scriptures that you hold in your hand this morning is the result of an ongoing process. The closest we can come to the original manuscripts is somewhere between four and six rather close copies of those earliest manuscripts, and the problem lies in that they don’t always agree with each other.

This morning’s Gospel passage points out the truth of that last statement. I actually had the title for my sermon posted on the marquee early Monday morning. I looked at the scriptures that morning, and rather immediately saw something in that phrase “have you still no faith” which jumped out at me in a big way. So I posted the title, and started my week of work and study. I had a direction.

On Friday when it came time to write, I did two things. I compared Mark’s statement to that of Matthew and Luke – they all tell the same story, more or less. But in the version of the scripture in which I looked this up, it didn’t read the same as the version I looked at earlier in the week. So I looked the same passage up in each copy of the scriptures which I own. I found that there are three variants of the passage – I suppose that these three variants have history in three variant translations down the years.

Let me be more specific. When I first looked at the scripture this week, I looked at it from the New Revised Standard version, which reads in the last part of verse 40, “Have you still no faith?” It was that word “still” that had jumped out at me – I thought it a little unfair of Mark to use it, so early in the story. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Then when I looked it up later in the week, the first translation I ran into said simply, “How is it that you have no faith?” It reads differently, doesn’t it?

So, let me read it to you out of eight different translations, and then out of the Greek, as I translate it. I group these for you, according to the three variant thoughts.

The RSV (Revised Standard Version) translates this verse the most simply – “Have you no faith?” Interestingly enough, in the RSV, Matthew and Luke say pretty much the same thing, with pretty much the same inflection of thought. This is really the only translation that translates this phrase rather “bare bones.”

The second variation of thought always throws in that little word “still, or something akin to it.” I found it in four translations.

NEB – “Have you no faith even now?”
NIV – “Do you still have no faith?”
NRSV – “Have you still no faith?”
NLT – “Do you still not have faith in me?”

By the way, I have something of a different problem with this last “translation,” because it suggests an object of their faith – that their faith should be in Jesus. While we believe that to be true, it is not necessarily the intent of this phrase. In this translation, there is a sense of impatience on the part of Jesus when He asks this question of the disciples. “Haven’t you found your faith yet?” The translation suggests something in its interpretation, doesn’t it? It suggests that Jesus experiences an impatience with us when we do not exhibit faith in a timely manner.

Then there is a third group of translations. I personally think they agree more with the Greek. I found this variant in three different translations.

KJV – “How is it that ye have no faith?”
NASV – exactly the same – “How is it that ye have not faith?” Again, by the way – it is unusual that the New American Standard and the King James agree so closely.
Peterson – “Don’t you have any faith at all?”
And then the fourth of the last group would be the Dunn translation of the Greek – “How not that you have faith?”

In this last group of translations, I hear more surprise than anything in the voice of Jesus. Do you hear the same thing? It’s almost as though He’s saying, “I find it hard to believe that you have trouble with faith.” I have no answers for my reaction to that “translation,” but if that is the case, His surprise surprises me!!

Here’s the point I want to make of all of that – we read the scriptures, you and I, for a lot of different reasons. Mostly, we read them to change our lives. Part of that change comes from trying to align our lives with God’s desires and wishes for us, and we discover some of that by studying the way Jesus says something. I would suggest to us that this passage suggests that Jesus expects faith from us – and perhaps that He is indeed surprised when we fail to exhibit faith. But at the same time, I see God as a patient God – One Who would not condemn us for being human as we learn to practice a life of faith.

I would also suggest to us that when we study, and find some truth around which we think we should shape our lives, that we must take the time to sincerely check out the point we are about to apply to our lives, to make sure that what we think it says is really what it says.

Which leads me to the application of this verse to our lives this week. I need to tell you a little story – first person, personal. A little over a week ago, they called us from OKC to tell us that Travis was “unresponsive, and throwing up.” We immediately left to meet them at Deaconness hospital. On my way home to pick up Lynn, I made several phone calls to ask people to pray for Travis. One of those phone calls was to my sister Tracy. I was nearing frantic, and she attempted to calm me. She used her calm “counselor” voice, and asked a couple of perfunctory questions, and then she said, “It’ll be alright. He’s in God’s hands.”

My response to her was less than stellar. I was in no mood for that kind of talk – once again our lives were in upheaval because of Travis. Once again this child with lifelong physical and mental handicaps was the focus of our worry and grief, and once again, I felt the hand of God very far away. My exact words to her – “Yes, and that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it!!”

I didn’t have time to process my response to her that week. Too much worry – too much anger. But she processed it for me. Last week in her sermon, she used my words as a point of teaching for her congregation, and I am grateful for her analysis. She said, “You see, we’ve had to place Travis in God’s hands since the moment he was born. Difficult delivery, significant post-birth problems, numerous surgeries, neurological damage, a child and now a man with very special needs – from the moment he arrived and even before, Travis has been out of our hands. This is the awful truth they do not tell parents – if they did, we’d never sign-up for the game. No, we discover that truth later; earlier for some than others, there comes a moment when we are slapped in the face with the realization that it is not in our hands. The oft-preached message about being the one solely responsible for the care of your child – it’s all hogwash. It’s not in your hands – frankly, it never was to begin with.”

Still Tracy speaking - “And, as Richard says, “That’s always been the problem.” For when something goes wrong with your child, you are full to the brim with worry for the child. But there, crowded amidst your concern for your offspring, is your own incredible and overwhelming sense of failure. “I’m her mother – I should have been able to protect her!” “I’m his father – I should be able to fix this!” And you didn’t protect – because you couldn’t. And you can’t fix – because, well, you just can’t. It’s not yours to fix – it never was. It’s another one of those things over which we have absolutely no control – and that’s always been the problem.

You see, you and I, we still believe we’re in control. It doesn’t matter how many times we’re reminded otherwise – we forget. And moments like this come along and it’s like learning new information all over again. When will we quit being surprised? When will it stop hitting us like a ton of bricks?”[1]


Friends, I wish I knew exactly what Jesus meant when He said, “Have you no faith?” I wish I could see the look in His eyes, focused on mine. I wish I could know how He meant those words – for me. In the context of the lives of those twelve disciples, they were experienced fishermen who knew the Sea of Galilee like the back of their hands. This wasn’t the first storm they had been in. They were used to this. And they were good at their craft – they knew how to control a boat in waters that would sink the common man. Then they cried out to Jesus, almost as if this was something else they could do, or perhaps they thought there was something He could do. And I wonder if His response to them suggested that they stop trying so hard at what they knew to do, and start to learn something that they didn’t know how to do.

The part of last week’s experience in my life that I find somewhat embarrassing is that at age 49, raised in the church, introduced to the life of faith repeatedly throughout my years, schooled in the seminary, and serving God’s people as a leader all these years – all of that describing context in my life – that I still exhibit so very little faith when it comes to too many of life’s experiences. Like Paul, who said, “in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger” – like Paul, I have my own laundry list of troubles which have plagued me.

And Jesus gently calms the rough and churning seas of my life, and lovingly looks at me and says, “Have you thought about trying the life of faith, my brother?”

He says that to each of us. I know your lives. I walk with you, and you share your real and private griefs with me. Trouble comes your way in waves, and you do what you know to do when it comes.

Can you hear Jesus as He says, “Have you thought about trying the life of faith again, my friend?”

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Tracy Dunn-Noland, The Secret Seed of Trust, http://fobsermons.blogspot.com/.