Not Normally Expected

 

Story by Emma McCoy | 5 minute read


I shared in last week’s blog post that the church I attend in San Diego is going through a 12-week series on prayer. This is uncomfortable for me for a number of reasons, including the fact that I have a hard time disciplining my thoughts long enough to allow God in.


Upon reflection, this is a good thing for me to work on.


Of the resources that the pastoral team has recommended, one is a book by a man named Pete Greig. Now, I love reading Christian literature. People who know me are not surprised by this; I just graduated with a B.A. in Literature and I’m going to graduate school so I can write novels. I process things very well by reading about them, and over the past two years I’ve read books by renowned theologians like C.S. Lewis, Eugene Peterson, and Ian Provan. 


I bought “How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People” at the recommendation of the church I go to, and at first glance, I was pleased. I’m very much the target audience. I grew up in faith, I struggle with prayer, and I consider myself “normal.” The book is structured well, and the first few chapters are helping me engage with prayer in a productive way.

But I kept getting hung up over the word “normal” in the title. Growing up with Spring Church has made me very aware of how language can “other” the unexpected and overlooked people around me. So looking at the title of Greig’s book again made me realize that even though I’m in his target audience, there’s a lot of people he’s leaving out. And not just leaving out, but actively excluding and othering just with the title.


What does “normal” mean in the context of the book? Maybe it’s American Christians who struggle with prayer, who lead middle-class or upper-class lives, who don’t struggle with mental illness or addiction, and who feel like they should probably pay more attention to God.


This excludes an enormous number of people just with the title. People who might feel guilty for not being “normal.” People who are frequently overlooked and made to feel invisible. 


So let’s take a look at the people Jesus sent to disciple normal folk.


The story of the demon-possessed son follows a theme we’ve been exploring at Spring Church. Similar to the woman at the well, the paralyzed man, and the woman caught up in prostitution, the unclean spirit-possessed son is someone unexpected, someone overlooked, and someone pushed to the outside. 


The son couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t speak. When he seized and hurt himself and others, he would have scared those around him. He was hard to understand. The spirit wouldn’t let him go and healing wasn’t a straightforward path. He would have been made to live outside of the community; he would have been branded “unclean.”


Writhing in the dirt isn’t “normal,” but the love of Jesus leads us there.


Jesus didn’t come for the religiously serious or the “normal” people who just wanted a little bit of encouragement, and then they’d go about their day, just as desperate, but better at hiding it. He came for the people desperately in need. He came for the lonely, the persecuted, the sick, and the sinners. He came for the boy rolling around in the dirt, unable to control his own body. And he also came for normal people like me. 


Now, when Jesus comes upon the scene, there’s a lot going on. His disciples are arguing with teachers of the law and the boy’s father is crouched over him.


As we’ve been going through these stories of unexpected people, we’ve always taken a look at the “crowd,” which usually translates to the people looking on, and the people who are getting it wrong. In this scenario, both the teachers of the law and the disciples are the crowd. They’re arguing while a boy is suffering, unable to help him. Their faith isn’t able to be useful to someone who needs it, and they can’t help the unexpected person in front of them. 


The teachers of the law absolutely would have been considered “normal.” They were the ones who were righteous, getting it right, and good with God. They would be included in the title “A Simple Guide for Normal People” (unless their ego got in the way). 


And yet, when Jesus enters the scene, he rebukes them. He also rebukes the disciples. What are they doing, arguing while the boy needs help? Where is their faith?


The boy’s father is the one with faith. He’s the one who gets it right. “Help my unbelief!” He pleads with Jesus. It’s implied that this father has been with his son the entire time. He describes how he hurts himself and seizes, which meant he would have had to be with his son. This means the father would have been cast out and othered along with his son. He would not be “normal people.”


Jesus does the unexpected and transforms the ignored and overlooked.


He heals the boy who would not, by any metric, be considered normal. He rebukes the “Normal” crowd and helps the one who comes on his knees, pleading, “help my unbelief.”


I’m going to keep reading “How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People” because it has been helpful so far, giving me practical tips on my prayer life. But in the back of my mind I’ll keep thinking about all the unexpected people Spring Church has studied so far, and how Jesus came for them. And how Jesus helped a father who came on his knees, humble and needing, and simply asked for assistance with his faith. I want to learn from the leaders of the church, but I also want to be led by the overlooked people that Jesus sends my way.


That’s my prayer for this week: “help my unbelief.”


Not my belief in Jesus. I believe He is the Son of God. But I want His help in my belief in his power to heal, transform, and love the people in my life who might be unexpected. Over and over again.



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