Luke 9.37-45 Study Guide

Self-Sufficiency: The Challenge of Faith

An Orderly Account:

Encountering Jesus in the Gospel of Luke

Luke 9:37-45

The Text

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him…

Introduction:

As a kid, I loved visiting my uncle Paul’s garage. His 1980 Chevrolet Camaro, bronze and gold paint, gleamed under the lights, and on the shelves stood neat rows of red and silver bottles STP fuel additives.

Every single time he put gas in his Camaro, he took one of those bottles off the shelf, and poured the contents into the tank. His Camaro would run on plain gasoline, but the additive helped the motor run smoother, increase efficiency, and keep things clean.

Many people see faith as an additive, a performance booster. They believe the car of their life will run fine on its own, but the addition of faith could help smooth things out and make things easier.

But this story says faith is not an additive; it’s not a performance booster. Rather, faith is utterly fundamental to your life. The Christian life cannot be lived apart from faith. Without faith, your car doesn’t have wheels.

As we study this passage, let’s see…

1. The Fundamental of Faith
2. The Failure of Faith
3. The Founder of Faith

1. The Fundamental of Faith

Imagine you’re in the crowd that day. An anxious father had come to see Jesus, but he was away up the mountain. Nine of his disciples are here, so he begs for their help. One by one, 9 attempts are made, nine failures occur. You begin wonder what’s so special about these guys. You’d heard reports from all over, that people were being healed. That’s what you came to see.

The disciples and the religious leaders are starting to argue with one another, the father is about to go away, and someone says, “Wait a minute. Jesus is back!”

The turns back around, falls at Jesus feet begging him to look at his son. But instead of looking at the boy, he sighs, looks at the crowd and his disciples and says:

“O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you and bear with you?”

Now, can I just say to you, that when people come to me for help, I rarely begin by calling the faithless, twisted, and asking God how much longer he expects me to put up with them.

Jesus’ words suck the oxygen out of the air. Where is his compassion, his patience? He sounds the way we sound when the kid drops a dirty bowl into the sink we just emptied.

You and I say stuff like this (or we think it) all the time. And most of the time we’re overreacting. We lose control of our emotions; blurt out things we shouldn’t say.  But Jesus didn’t. He never overacted. Which means—if Jesus reacts like this to a lack of faith—it must mean faith is more fundamental than we understand.

In Matthew’s gospel, the disciples come to Jesus privately after the boy is healed, asking why they could not cast the demon out, and Jesus says: because of your little faith. Faith is not an additive to the Christian life—it’s fundamental.

There are fundamentals to basketball: dribbling, passing, shooting. Fundamentals to airplanes: lift, gravity, thrust, drag.  Fundamentals to music: rhythm and melody.

And according to Jesus, to follow him without faith is like trying to fly a plane without wings, or play a song without a melody.

Over and over, the Bible puts faith at the center of life. Abraham believed (had faith in) God, and it was counted to him as righteousness. Hebrews 11 is known as the Hall of Faith:

• By faith Noah built an ark.
• By faith Abraham went out.
• By faith Jacob blessed his sons.
• By faith Moses left Egypt.
• By faith Rahab welcomed the spies of Israel.

Without faith, says Heb. 11:6, it is impossible to please God. Paul says, “We walk by faith, not by sight.” In other words: it would be better for you to go blind than be faithless.

In Galatians 2, Paul says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith.” You see, faith is not an additive to your life. It’s a fundamental. It’s essential.

2. The Failure of Faith

At the verse top of the chapter (v. 1) Jesus commissions and empowers the disciples.

And he called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons

Now, 37 verses later, they’re impotent to help this boy. This is abject failure.

We know Jesus said it was because of their lack of faith. Marks account gives even more detail. Jesus says this kind of demon “can only be driven out by prayer and fasting.” Right there, Jesus is teaching us what faith looks like.

Prayer is going to God. Praising, confessing, thanking, and asking him for aid. In other words—as Calvin said, “Prayer is the chief exercise of faith.” It’s how we daily depend upon God, cleave to him, and rest in him. And fasting is prayer on steroids. You intentionally withdraw from physical necessities like food in order to prioritize prayer as a spiritual need.

When Jesus says the disciples failed because they were prayerless, he’s saying they failed not because their faith lacked intensity, but because it was aimed in the wrong direction.

Instead of turning to God for aid, they trusted their own strength. They tried to produce what only God could provide without turning to God in prayer.

Abraham did the same thing. God promised him a child through Sarah. And Abraham waited, for a while. Then, instead of trusting in and waiting on God, he took matters into his own hands. He tried to produce what only God could provide by his own strength.

Two lessons:

First, the Bible teaches that everyone has faith. You say, “I’m a rational person. I don’t need faith. If you’re the kind of person who needs faith, fine. You have your faith. But I don’t need it.”

Ok, let me tell you why it’s irritating for a Christian to hear someone say this. It assumes that faith and reason are opposed; that faith must somehow be contra-evidence, or anti-factual. But nothing could be further from Biblical Christianity. You realize that when Christ was raised not all the disciples saw him at the same time, and one of them (Thomas) said, “Unless I see evidence, I will not believe.” When Jesus appeared to him did he say, “I’m not giving you any evidence, you have to take a blind leap”? No. He show him the wounds in his hands. So, faith is not opposed to reason.

Also, when someone says, “I don’t need faith,” they’re showing how blind they are to the fact that they already exercise faith in a hundred ways. At the bottom of every single human being are faith claims. We have faith that our own memory is trustworthy, that our senses are reliable. You can’t prove either of those, you have to take it on faith. We trust that tomorrow will come and basically be like today. Listen—whether you believe in God or not—you instinctively believe somethings are right and others are wrong—and you cannot prove your ethics with science.  We have faith in gravity when we stand and pilots when we fly. Not only do you have faith, you can’t get through a single day without faith.

Lesson two: our faith fails—not so much because it lacks intensity—but because we aim it in the wrong direction.

The disciples had faith—but not prayer. In other words, they believed they could cast out the demon without God’s assistance.

Which means they could have possessed red hot intense faith—but as long as their faith was in themselves, they were doomed to fail. Why? Because strong faith in a weak object fails.

Conversely, even if their faith was weak, trembling, and fragile—had they turned to God in prayer, they could have moved a mountain. Because weak faith in a strong object always succeeds.

You see—it is not the intensity, or purity, or depth of your faith that saves you—it’s the object.

The question is not, “How strong is my faith?” As long as you’re asking that question, you’re still putting your faith in yourself.

A better question might be, “Do I pray?”

And here’s why—and this is critical—it is not the praying that saves you. Rather, the essence of prayer is admitting you can’t do anything to save yourself.

And that’s why self-sufficient people never pray. They are their own saviors. But those who know they are sinners, know they deserve nothing—therefore they pray. They turn to God.

Have you turned to him? That’s where Luke leads us. Everyone in the story is either hopeless or hapless—except Jesus Christ, and that’s why he is the…

3. The Founder of Faith

Now, most of the time, when a preacher talks about Jesus, he’ll choose to focus on one of this qualities such as his power. So, you think of Jesus calming the storm, or Jesus raising the dead. Or a preacher may choose to focus on Jesus tenderness. Think of Jesus calling the little children to himself.

But in this passage, Luke is highlighting both at the same time—because (and I believe this is critical) it is the surprising conjunction of both Jesus highness and his lowness that makes him attractive, that makes us want to put our faith in him.

Let me show you his power first. We see it in verse 42 & 43:

But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit and healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.

The father was hopeless. The disciples were hapless. The little boy had endured years of suffering and no one could help. But here is Jesus saving and rescuing this boy with a word. There’s no voodoo. He doesn’t have to battle with the demon. This isn’t a wrestling match. Divine power rushes from him and topples the enemy like a house of cheap cards.

And Luke says they were all astonished at his majesty, his mighty power. Here is one who is infinitely high above us.

Yet, at the same time, he has made himself low—and he is tender. In verse 38, when the father approaches, did you notice that he does not ask Jesus to heal the boy. He begs Jesus to look on the boy. In other words, the father is not asking, “Can you heal him?” He’s asking, “Will you heal him? I know you are powerful, but are you compassionate?”

You see the son isn’t with him. He’s hidden away. The boy had already been through so much public embarrassment, and the father will not make a spectacle out of him. So, he asks, “Will you look on him?” Will you condescend? Will you, who are infinitely high, come down to meet us where we are? How low will you go in order to help us?”

Not only will Jesus Christ condescend to look on this boy, he will go even lower. He will descend beneath the weight and guilt of our sins, putting them on his own shoulders, dying on a cross, and descending into the grave.

You see—what makes Jesus the founder of your faith—it’s not just his power or just his tenderness. Luke says it’s both perfections at the same time in one person.

Jonathan Edwards put it this way: Jesus Christ is the lion and the lamb.

The lion is strong and majestic. The lamb is meek and approachable.

He who is infinitely higher than the heavens condescends to take notice of demon possessed boys. He even became a boy, and died for him.

He is infinitely just—and will not let a single sin go unpunished. Yet he is infinitely gracious and willingly suffered extreme torments to bestow that grace on us.

He is infinitely glorious—angels have praised him since their creation. Yet he is infinitely humble—washing the feet even of his betrayer.

He is supreme in dominion yet perfect in obedience. He is the judge and the advocate. He is uncreated yet born in time. In his greatest weakness he was most strong. When he was slain, he was victorious. When he was killed he was conquering. [1]

Don’t you want to turn to him? He’s the founder of our faith. There is no one like him.

1. Bring Him Your Doubts. In Mark’s account, Jesus responds to the father’s request by saying, “Everything is possible for him who believes.” And the father replies, “I believe, help my unbelief”—that is, “I’m believing, but I’m full of doubts.” Then Jesus heals the boy. This is good news for us. You don’t need perfect faith—you just need helplessness. All you need is need.

2. Cry Out to Him. The father does not come quietly to Jesus. He cries out. He begs. Until you are crying out to him, you aren’t really coming to him; not the way you need to.

A.W. Tozer wrote a short article titled: Pray until you pray. He said we don’t truly understand how much we need God—and therefore we always stop praying too soon. And the only way to cultivate that sense of neediness is to pray until you really begin praying.

The old Puritan Thomas Goodwin put it this way, “Sue him for it. Do not leave God alone. Pester him with his own promises.”

[1] This entire section is a riff on Edwards’ sermon The Excellency of Christ.