Jesus apparently had that same problem sometimes. The same man who caused a fig tree to wither just by speaking to it also could only perform a few minor healings in a certain town because no one had faith and the power just wasn’t flowing. And that stymied him. Faith, real faith that unleashes miraculous power, is a rare commodity.

Faith is also selective. And I think this is where most of us miss it. We tend to take the shotgun approach: aiming at whatever target is in front of us at the moment and yanking away recklessly at the trigger. But faith is really a sniper’s rifle, a bolt-action, single shot weapon. When Jesus was walking along one day in the suburbs of Jerusalem, he runs across the pool of Bethesda where sick people would wait for the water to stir, then try to crawl into it to be healed. Like a modern-day evangelistic healing crusade, this place was packed. “Here a great multitude would lay, waiting …” (John 5:3). But Jesus picks out a single man. “Do you want to get well? … Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” What about all the others? This guy had been there a long time, to be sure. 38 years. But there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special about this guy. In fact, the quality of his faith isn’t even mentioned.

When the religious leaders of the day challenge Jesus (because it happened to be the Sabbath, and miracles make religious people nervous), Jesus points out a few things. “My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I too am working. … I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing” (John 5:17-19).

A long time ago I was in a small group conversation with a pastor in Argentina. At the time, he was well known for his massive crusades where healings regularly took place, so naturally, they were always packed. He commented that it seemed like God tended to focus on one type of healing at a time in his meetings. One night, blind people would be healed. On another night, it would be the deaf or lame. This apparently bothered him, so he asked God about it one day in prayer. “Lord, why do you do it that way, and why are some types of people healed and others not?” God’s answer, he told us, put him in his place and at the same time, set him free from worrying about such things. “None of your business.”

This pastor, like Jesus, just did what he was told. He only cooperated with what God was already doing. And if God chose to heal only people with eye troubles that night, then that’s what he’d go along with.

Our faith needs to be targeted the same way. We need to stop trying to command that mountain unless we see God already moving it and he specifically instructs us to speak the words. And it’s not like we’ll be sitting around for long periods of time with nothing to do. “My Father is always working — even to this day.” We just need to remember that when we try to assert divine authority “in Jesus’ name”, then Jesus needs to be the one actually giving the direction.

I believe in miracles. I believe in divine healing, in supernatural provision and blessing. But faith is the powder inside the sniper round. And I shouldn’t try to pull the trigger until given the order to fire.

I pull open my bible. I’m finished with Luke, so I should move on to the Gospel of John, but really all those “in the beginning was the word” lines just don’t appeal to me right now. Flipping the page, a section header catches my eye for some reason, and pulls me in: “Jesus Calls Philip and Nathaniel”. Thinking of a Philip I know who asked about lunch, I think I should drop him a note on Facebook. He’s started a fellowship for restaurant workers, people who normally have a pretty negative view of church folk. You know, all those after-church lunchers who take up tables, seem to always complain about the food or service, and never — absolutely never — leave a decent tip. Not a good reflection on the Church. And then there are a few other churches I know who are scrambling to attract new members. Flyers mailed out, sometimes door-to-door knocking, new holiday kids programs, or a new sign out front. Anything to “bring them in”. And I can’t help this little cynical thought flash across my mind, “if you put good food on the table, people will come — and recommend it to their friends. But if the food is bland, it doesn’t matter how much you advertise, people won’t be back.”

Philip in the bible was from a little town in Galilee, and Jesus, passing by, simply says to him “Follow me.” Philip has obviously heard Jesus teach and seen his miracles because he doesn’t even hesitate. He’s seen Jesus in action. What more did he need than that personal invitation? But the thing that struck me: the first thing he does is go tell his friend Nathaniel. “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote — Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathaniel is a bit skeptical, but obviously in a good-natured way: “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” And then the kicker, Philip’s response. “Come and see.”

Okay, big deal. What’s so impressive about that? So many well-intended and compassionate Christians are really exerting efforts to “save the lost”. We’ll try almost anything to get them in our church doors. And that’s great. We should have a passion to bring people to God. But so many of these “lost” people — like the disaffected restaurant servers my friend Philip is trying to reach –have already tried church. They’ve had their fill of church-goers, and it’s left a bad taste in their mouths. And their initial reaction to a church invitation is very often like Nathaniel’s, “Church! Can anything good come from there?”

Our response SHOULD be “Come and see for yourself.” But do we really have the goods? Are we serving up the feast to feed them when they actually do come in the doors? Is Jesus really there? — and I mean in more than just an “of course, where two or three are gathered he is there, so obviously God is in our midst” kind of way. Philip heard and saw Jesus in action. He experienced enough of the real thing to be able to claim that Jesus was the Coming One the Law and the Prophets talked about. Can we make that same claim? Are people genuinely changed when they walk out our doors? Is the teaching the very words of God, like Jesus taught? Are those words piercing to the heart with divine authority and power? Are people being healed, are prayers being answered? Is there a real presence of God in our congregations — one that can disrupt our well-choreographed services if and when He decides? That’s a tall order. But if we’re not filling it then we’re just playing “at church” instead of really “being” the Church — the real, physical manifestation of the Body of Christ. Maybe WE need to spend more time in the presence of the One.

It’s a cold, bright Sunday morning, and I’m sitting with my coffee, trying to connect with God. I’m about to get ready for church, and I wonder what God will do, what he will say, in our midst today. And there’s only way to find out. Come and see.