Restore | Mind

Help My Unbelief: When Faith Feels Hard and God Invites Us to Wrestle

There are moments in life when believing feels easy—and moments when it feels almost impossible.

You still show up.
You still sing the songs.
You still want to trust God.

But somewhere deep down, something feels stuck. Your mind is tired. Your heart is guarded. And faith feels fragile.

This message speaks directly into those moments.

When Belief Feels Like a Stretch

Sometimes unbelief doesn’t come from rebellion—it comes from exhaustion.

You’ve prayed before.
You’ve hoped before.
You’ve tried to trust God before.

And yet, disappointment, addiction, unanswered prayers, or old wounds have quietly shaped the way you see Him. You don’t necessarily deny God—you just struggle to trust Him.

That’s exactly where we meet a father in Mark 9.

His son has been tormented for years. The disciples couldn’t help. The situation feels hopeless. And when the father finally stands before Jesus, his prayer isn’t polished or confident—it’s painfully honest: “I do believe. Help my unbelief.”

That single sentence captures the tension many of us live in every day: belief and doubt existing at the same time.

God Is Not Afraid of Your Honesty

The father doesn’t hide his unbelief.
He doesn’t pretend to have it all together.
He brings his doubt straight to Jesus.

And Jesus doesn’t reject him for it.

Scripture tells us we have a Savior who understands weakness, who has been tempted in every way we have, and yet without sin. That’s why we’re invited to approach God boldly—not confidently in ourselves, but confidently in His grace.

When you doubt, come to Jesus.
When you struggle to forgive, come to Jesus.
When addiction, fear, sickness, or shame weigh heavy, come to Jesus anyway.

If Jesus carried the full weight of sin, suffering, and death on the cross, He can handle what you bring to Him now.

When You Can’t Pick Yourself Up

After Jesus casts the spirit out of the boy, something unexpected happens—the child lies still. So still that the crowd assumes he’s dead.

No one moves.
No one helps.

But Jesus does.

He takes the boy by the hand and lifts him to his feet.

That moment matters.

Some of us know what it feels like to be emotionally, spiritually, or mentally “down”—so depleted that we can’t even respond anymore. Autopilot kicks in. Hope fades. And we quietly wonder if anyone can help at all.

The gospel reminds us of this truth: Jesus is the One who lifts us up.

Not our willpower.
Not our discipline.
Not our circumstances.

Faith isn’t about picking yourself up—it’s about letting Jesus do what only He can do.

Unbelief, Pride, and the Mind

So what does all of this have to do with our minds?

A lot.

Scripture tells us that transformation happens through the renewing of our minds. But one of the biggest barriers to that renewal is something we don’t always recognize: pride.

Pride doesn’t just show up as arrogance. It can look like shame. Control. Self-reliance. Overthinking. Believing that everything depends on us.

When our faith becomes dependent on circumstances, pride quietly takes over:

• When things go wrong, we put God on trial.

• When things go right, we take the credit.

But God doesn’t want our faith anchored to circumstances—because circumstances change.

God doesn’t.

True faith is desperate dependence—the willingness to admit our limitations and trust God’s infinite power instead.

Look Up, Not Inward

Here’s a simple but profound picture: when you’re overwhelmed, anxious, or ashamed, your posture often turns inward. Head down. Eyes fixed on yourself. All you can see is what’s wrong.

But renewing the mind begins with a change in posture.

Looking up.

Fixing your eyes on Jesus—not your performance, not your fear, not your failure. He is the author and perfecter of faith. He is the One who restores what we cannot.

Sometimes renewal doesn’t start with answers—it starts with surrender.

When Belief Still Feels Impossible: Wrestle

And what if you still can’t believe?

Then you do what Scripture invites you to do: you wrestle.

Jacob wrestled with God and refused to let go until he was blessed. Not because he was strong—but because he was desperate.

Wrestling doesn’t mean rebellion.
It means refusal to walk away.

Sometimes faith looks like screaming prayers.
Sometimes it looks like clinging.
Sometimes it looks like saying, “God, I don’t understand—but I’m not letting go.”

We don’t wrestle to control God or demand outcomes. We wrestle so we can know Him. So we can see His faithfulness. So belief can grow where unbelief once lived.

Don’t Just Sing—Wrestle

This message ends with a challenge that’s uncomfortable but necessary: stop going through the motions.

Songs mean nothing if we don’t believe the One we’re singing to. Worship isn’t background noise—it’s engagement. Communion isn’t routine—it’s remembrance. Prayer isn’t performance—it’s dependence.

So whether your struggle is doubt, fear, addiction, shame, or unanswered prayers, the invitation is the same:

Don’t walk away.
Don’t shut down.
Don’t pretend.

Wrestle.

Because faith isn’t the absence of doubt—it’s choosing to bring your doubt to Jesus and trusting Him to meet you there.

And sometimes the most faithful prayer you can pray is still the simplest: “I do believe. Help my unbelief.”