TD Jakes - Maintaining Faith: Do You Still Believe?
It occurs to me that we are living in a time of great skepticism. For those of you who are younger, this may be the only reality you have ever recognized, so it may seem normal to you. However, I remember a time when we used to believe in certain things. I recall a time when we walked past each other on the street and would greet one another. I remember a time when we helped elderly neighbors carry their groceries. I also remember a time when neighbors looked out for each other’s children. We used to believe in something meaningful. I remember when we were more patriotic and less political; we used to believe in ideals. I recall a time when we visited the doctor, and if they prescribed medicine, we would take it as instructed simply because we had faith in the professional.
Today, skepticism seems so pervasive that truth is hard to find. Establishing a solid, concrete belief system that we can all embrace and agree upon has become difficult, even over the smallest matters. We often do not believe in science, regardless of the education, tests, or evidence presented. Yet, some people believe in science but do not believe in God, despite countless blessings and experiences. We don’t believe in systemic racism, regardless of the videos we see; there are still those who refuse to acknowledge it. They are willfully blind because this blindness comforts them.
We choose to be blind. We no longer believe in institutions. We have constructed our own form of religion. We have reduced God to the universe, failing to recognize that God created the universe. We now worship creation more than the creator and pray to the things God made rather than to God himself. We used to believe in ideals and creeds; even secular people believed in them. There was a time when people would curse until they reached church; then they would stop because, although they weren’t inside, they believed in something.
Today, skepticism reigns. Everything is met with challenge. If we mention police brutality, someone will counter with «No, no, no—99% are good.» But there’s no evidence to back it up; that’s just a number pulled from thin air. We choose not to believe. I’m not saying there aren’t many good police officers, but where did that 99% come from? We don’t believe in videos. We don’t believe in testimonies. We don’t believe in anything. If we discuss injustice, the response is often about immunity.
We previously rallied around something—the Constitution. We used to believe in it, but now we bend and twist it to fit our political agendas. The Constitution is irrelevant; it’s about who wins or loses, no matter how we scheme or cheat. We used to believe in something meaningful.
It’s a hard job to preach today because preaching is based on faith, and faith has gone out of style. It’s hard to pastor a church when belief is so lacking. My mother said that those who don’t believe are akin to those who believe snakes are merely crawling around; they don’t believe in authority, structure, or respect. People leave babies in trash cans because they don’t value the responsibility of raising children.
We are living in an era of skepticism where truth seems optional, and it has become merely one’s opinion or whatever one chooses to believe. We used to believe in agreements; the Bible states that the giving of an oath was the end of all strife, yet now even contracts lack safety.
I must admit, I’m not shocked when unbelievers don’t believe; that’s why they are termed «unbelievers.» We often preach against sin, but the real issue is unbelief. We tend to focus on habits, believing that if one became more moral, they would be saved, but morality alone doesn’t guarantee salvation. You can be moral and still end up in hell. The gateway into the kingdom is belief; without it, you can’t enter. The criteria for being in the kingdom is to be a believer. I’m not surprised that some laugh at the gospel, troll online, and scoff at its message. What surprises me is that the skepticism that existed outside the church has somehow seeped in. The church now speaks like the world, and the world talks more about belief than the church.
The church is skeptical of each other, our leadership, organized religion, everything, including God. «Prove to me that there is a God,» they say. However, God doesn’t have to be proven; He only needs to be revealed. God never required that we prove Him; He is not a science experiment that can be placed under a microscope. We need faith to approach Him. He that comes to God must first believe that He is and that He rewards those who diligently seek Him. You must believe in Him because if you don’t believe that He exists, you cannot approach Him. He won’t prove Himself to you.
Let’s consider John 3:14–18. «As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him should not perish.» This is a faith-driven statement: Whosoever believes in Him should not perish. It is not about tithing or preaching; it is about belief. «For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.» God did not send His Son into the world to condemn it but so that through Him, the world might be saved.
He that believes on Him is not condemned; however, he that believes not is condemned already because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. This is what angers God: the refusal to believe in His Son. The entire issue is about belief—it is the core concern.
This spirit of skepticism that has infiltrated our generation has led to unnecessary death, murder, pain, the nullification of institutions, and a lack of solidarity. It has accentuated instability and anxiety because when you lack a truth to anchor yourself to, you are simply adrift in a sea of conflicting ideas. This chaos has resulted in arguments, killings, and turf wars. Truth anchors the soul; it steadies us and opens doors of revelation.
Faith is the currency of heaven; it is to heaven what money is to Earth. It is how God conducts business. Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness. God said, «I know you are not righteous, but if you believe Me, I will impute righteousness to you.»
If I were Satan and wanted to destroy you, I wouldn’t spend energy fighting your morality, mentality, or anxieties; I would attack your faith. Without faith, it is impossible to please God. No matter your talent, if you don’t believe Him, you can’t please Him. Without belief, you cannot build a ministry or preach effectively. If you don’t believe God, you can’t do business with Him because faith is the currency of heaven.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. It is an exchange medium; while I can’t eat faith, sleep on it, or live in it, I can exchange it for goods and truths.
If I were Satan and wanted to bankrupt you, it wouldn’t suffice to take your money. If I take your faith, I leave you spiritually bankrupt. Without faith, prayer has no foundation; without faith, you have no peace, joy, victory, power, confidence, conviction, or comfort in grief. If I take your faith, you are left powerless and incapable. A lack of faith insults God; it suggests He may be lying.
Abraham became a friend of God because he believed Him. I want you to understand the significance of faith: if you don’t grasp its importance, you won’t appreciate the magnitude of this message. Trials of faith do not come at convenient times; they arise amid chaos when you are vulnerable.
This is a crisis of faith, a time of uncertainty. No bombs are falling, no visible disasters, but it is nonetheless a faith crisis. The twelve who initiated their journey with Jesus believed Him; they left their jobs and families to follow Him. They thought they understood His mission, that He was establishing a kingdom, overthrowing the Roman Empire, and granting them places of power. But then, He began to speak in ways that confused them, discussing death and resurrection, talking about losing one’s life to gain much more.
About what is he talking? Why is he talking about dying? He kept talking about dying. Death was not in their plan; it was not in their perspective, it was not in their purview, it was not in their preparation, and it was not in their understanding. They didn’t understand why Jesus kept talking about death. They heard him murmuring about it in Gethsemane, out there in the woods, looking like he was talking to himself: «Father, if it be possible, let this bitter cup pass from me; not my will, but Thy will be done.»
And there in the garden of Gethsemane, where his soul was pressed until blood drops came out of the pores of his skin, they watched him, didn’t understand him, and fell asleep, confused. Confused about him, and he was murmuring about death. The pressure was mounting, and the politics were building. The Pharisees were against him, and the Sadducees were against him, but they weren’t afraid because Jesus had power. They had seen him walk on water, heal the sick, raise the dead, and turn water into wine. They had seen him open the blinded eyes of Bartimaeus; they knew he had power. Yet when they apprehended Jesus, he opened not his mouth. He didn’t say a word; he let them take him. He didn’t have to let them take him; he had spoken one time, and the ground knocked them to the ground. They had fallen at the sound of his voice.
He had power; he could have resisted, but he didn’t do anything. He turned into this lamb-like individual that they were not familiar with, and he didn’t say a mumbling word. They dragged him around like he was a little boy, from judgment hall to judgment hall. They snatched him around, they beat him like he was a slave until his entrails were hanging out, and after they had whipped him, they put a cross on his back and made him carry it outside of the city to a place called Golgotha. There on Golgotha’s hill, he had to carry the cross up the hill like a slave toward a peak at the top of the mountain, where there was so much uncertainty that nobody knew for sure what was going to happen, but it did not look good. Most of the disciples ran away; Peter went to curse and said, «I was never with him. I was not with him,» because Peter was afraid—and rightfully so, for they were getting ready to kill Jesus.
Now push had come to shove; only one disciple said, «I’m going to die with him,» and that was Thomas. Thomas said, «We must go; I must go and die with him.» Thomas, yes, Thomas! I know you call him doubting Thomas; you’ve got a name for everybody, but he wasn’t always doubting Thomas. He had been confirmed, convinced, and committed in his faith. He believed in Jesus, and he was prepared to go to Jerusalem to die with him. But the pressure mounted, and it got worse; they beat him so badly he wasn’t recognizable. They stripped him of his clothing, and he went like a lamb to the shearers; he never fought back, he never said anything, and he didn’t perform any of those miraculous things they had seen him do over and over again. It was as if he had lost his power. He laid down on the cross; no man took his life; he laid down on a wooden cross, and they nailed his hands to it. Blood spewed out like a fountain.
The Roman soldiers lifted high the hammer and slammed it down on the nail, and blood flew everywhere. They struck again, and blood flew everywhere. They crossed his feet together, I believe symbolic of the Jews and Gentiles coming together under one gospel. They put them all together and slammed down again. Once they had fastened him firmly to a wooden cross, a cross that he had made himself, they lifted him up on the cross, hung him high, and stretched him wide. And there the Savior of the universe lay on the cross, stripped naked, powerless, impotent, murmuring almost deliriously, uttering things that made no sense: «I thirst.» Talking to his mother, «Behold thy son; behold thy mother,» changing languages: «Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?» Can you imagine what it would be like to be a disciple of Jesus and hear him say, «My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?»
If God lived, their faith had come to a crushing blow, a crisis, and uncertainty. What in the world are we going to do? How do I go back home and tell them maybe he wasn’t who I thought he was, and maybe he couldn’t do what I thought he could do? I saw him do it, but then when he needed to do it most, he didn’t. How am I going to tell them? How do I get my whole job back? How do I explain to my wife why I spent three years following somebody who died like a criminal on a cross? Most of the disciples ran to a room and hid because they said if they killed our pastor, they’d kill us too. They locked themselves up in the room, and I heard that Judas hung himself in the potter’s field. They didn’t go to see, but it was rumored that he committed suicide. There were rumors suggesting somebody might have broken into his grave and taken his body.
Thomas had decided, «I don’t know about this. I don’t know what to think; I don’t know what to believe; I don’t know where to go; I don’t know what to say.» Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he let this happen? Why didn’t he let this happen to himself? Why did he let this happen to me? Why did he let this happen to me? If you’ve ever had a faith crisis, this is where you talk: Why didn’t you… thank God it was on myself? Why did… why did mama die if God was on my side? Why did my daughter die if God was on my side? Why did I lose my job if God was on my side?
I don’t know; I don’t know; I don’t know. Maybe it’s not real; maybe it doesn’t work; maybe it’s not true. Skepticism has leaked into the boat; skepticism has come into the room; skepticism has invaded the premise. That’s why when Jesus got up from the grave and came to the room where ten disciples were—one was dead, committed suicide, and the other one was stuck in skepticism. The ten were locked up for fear of the Jews. They had not lost their faith, but they were afraid of the Jews. The Bible says that when Jesus came to the room, he came through the door, right through the door, and appeared unto them. In the room, I know they thought, «Oh God, this is a ghost!»
But then he ate fish; spirits can’t eat. Spirit enough to go through the door and man enough to eat fish on the inside—holy God could do things like this. But the problem was he did it while Thomas was gone. Thomas was not in the room when Jesus first showed up; he was out somewhere trying to figure out whether he should believe or not. «Maybe I shouldn’t go back to that church, and maybe I shouldn’t be in that, because this is not working, and I might get killed, and I don’t know where I fit. I can’t go back to Jerusalem, and I don’t fit in the upper room.»
I want to talk to somebody who feels like you don’t fit anywhere, too much of the world to be in the church, and yet too much of the church to be in the world. So you pace back and forth because you don’t fit anywhere, and you believe sort of, but you’ve got some doubt. You’ve got some worry, and your faith is in crisis. Your faith… you think your life isn’t quite… no, no, no, no. You think your money isn’t good? No, no, no, no. You think your family isn’t quite? No, that’s all what the devil is choosing—your faith.
Your faith in crisis and having your faith in a crisis is what Jesus had warned Peter about. He told Peter, «You remember he said, 'Satan has desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith, that your faith, that your faith, that your faith fail you not. I didn’t pray that you wouldn’t fail; in fact, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times, and I didn’t even pray about that; I prayed that your faith failed not.'»