(The transcript begins following the podcast introduction.)
The door latched behind us as we huddled together in the house. The twelve of us were confused, some angry, and some disappointed. Me? I was just perplexed.
“Why could not we cast him out?”
And He said, “This kind can come forth by nothing but by prayer and fasting.”[1]
His answer, like many times before, didn’t bring immediate relief. There was an “otherness” about Him, an otherness that necessitated a depth in spirit to understand. Flippant, fleshly rhetoric was not Master. Every word, every jot and tittle had meaning and needed to be seized upon.
While Master was on the mountain with “the Three” (what we called them), and we waited in the valley below, a father brought his son to be healed. Contests are, most generally, in the valley. And this one was weighty, with the challenge and the scribe-filled crowd that witnessed.
And we failed the contest.
Chaos ensued.
The father was distraught as unbelief filled his being; his son was still afflicted as hopelessness flooded his eyes, and the Scribes again disputed the validity of it.
Caught up in the dispute, we didn’t see Master coming. But the crowd did. They left the debate and ran to Him. We then did too. (Later, as I reflected on the moment, this bothered me a lot: I was so embroiled in the discussion that I failed to see Master as He approached.)
As He surveyed the scene, we saw numerous but fleeting expressions on His weathered face: compassion for the father and son, disappointment with the nine of us, pity on the scribes who couldn’t see Who was standing before them, to name a few.
After hearing the commotion, His spirit grieved; Master spoke a reproof and an admonition. Then the power through mercy flowed from His lips, and the boy was delivered.
The hand that had lifted the boy from his delivered but comatose state was now lifting our understanding as we huddled beleaguered afterward.
I rehearsed the words over again, as did we all — even the Three seemed to be at a loss: “This kind can come forth by nothing but by prayer and fasting.”
The Sons of Thunder sat brewing; the impetuous one stared confidently. He’s thinking “that if he were there, the healing would have taken place, and we wouldn’t be here,” I thought; he is always thinking like that, I justified.
A cryptic word came from the Three: “What good is the glory if there is no power for those in need?”
“What glory?” I thought, unaware of the Three’s transfiguration vision witnessed up the mountain and not far from the valley.
The former tax collector brought the musing back to reality, “But we all had cast out demons before. It came with the commission,” he reasoned. “Seventy others had done so, too,” he added.
It was then that the revelation flooded my spirit. It coincided with the Master’s look that met my gaze. It was as if He was speaking directly to me, but no one else could hear a word.
“Past success doesn’t always ensure present power.” The unveiling resonated within my being. “Encumbered with service can never replace sitting at My feet,” the Master concluded.
I began to put together some practical thoughts about His words. Yes, I had been walking with Him, but when he went to pray, I slept; the closeness we had gained through the intimacy of communion had waned over time through my lack of prayer. The faith He had spoken about in the valley only comes through hearing His Words, and my time of sitting and learning had given way to walking and doing until there was — this time — no “do” left in me.
And then another paradox of the Kingdom hit me. Yes, we have dined together many times, but there are seasons when our dining together is not food but a fast. It’s the food of the fast that nourishes the spiritual man.
Fasting needs to become my meal of choice. Prayer is the source of faith’s power; fasting is a means of strength.
The Master’s eyes looked away, breaking our gaze, as the others continued to reason together, and I knew it was my time to speak.
[1] Mark 9:28, 29, KJV.