When Love Isn't Enough

There are some things in life that just feel… impossible. 

Look at someone who’s addicted. 

Now… make that someone you love. 

Now… make that your child.

That hits differently, doesn’t it?

The love a mother has for her child—it’s unlike any other love on this earth. That “Mama Bear” instinct? It doesn’t come from weak love. It comes from the deepest, fiercest part of who we are. A real mom doesn’t stop loving. No matter how deep the pain, no matter how long the road, she just doesn’t quit. And many fathers feel the same way.

But here’s the hardest truth: 

Even that kind of love—pure, relentless, and strong—can’t force change. 

Even when it’s what’s best. Even when we’re begging for it. We cannot make our child change. We cannot heal their hurts.

I was reading Mark chapter 9 recently. Jesus had been away from His disciples for a bit—doing some pretty amazing things. And while He was gone, a father came to the disciples, desperate for help. His son was suffering—badly.

The man called it a “dumb spirit,” meaning his son couldn’t speak. But it was more than that. He told Jesus, “When the spirit takes hold of him, it throws him to the ground, causes him to convulse, foam at the mouth, grind his teeth, and he ends up lying there—motionless.” He said, “He’s wasting away.”

Have you ever watched your child waste away?

Maybe not physically… but in other ways? 

Watched them lose themselves in addiction, or numb themselves to life, or drift away from the God who created them with so much purpose?

It’s a nightmare you can’t wake up from. 

And if you’ve never been there—thank God. But if you have… you know. And you’d never wish it on another parent. Not ever.

Now, back to this father in Mark 9. 

He had already brought his son to the disciples… but they couldn’t help. 

And when Jesus heard that, He said, “Oh unbelieving generation—how long must I bear with you?” 

And then He said, “Bring the boy to Me.”

And this is where it got intense. 

As soon as the spirit saw Jesus—through the boy’s eyes—it reacted violently. Threw the boy down, made him convulse, foam at the mouth. Evil spirits can see. And they know when Jesus is near.

The father then said something that pierced my heart. 

He said: “If You can do anything… help us.”

Not “help my son.” 

He said, “help us.” 

Because when our children suffer, we suffer. 

The father was just as broken, just as exhausted. This had been going on since the boy was a child—years of torment. Years of doing everything he could, and nothing working. 

He had probably asked himself a thousand times: 

“What kind of father am I that I can’t fix this?” 

“What did I do wrong?” 

“Where did I fail?”

You know those questions if you’ve ever sat in that place.

So when he says, “If You can do anything…” 

That’s not doubt. That’s fear. 

That’s what it sounds like when hope has been crushed over and over, but somehow still refuses to die.

Jesus responds: “‘If You can’? All things are possible to him who believes.”

Now, right there, you might think— 

“Okay, but doesn’t the child have to believe too?” 

I’ve had doctors say this to me in a somewhat calloused manner: 

“Well… he has to want to get well, doesn’t he?”

Once my child looked at them and said, “Of course I want to!” 

But wanting… and willing to do the work? Those are two different things. 

Maybe the better question isn’t, “Do you want to be well?” 

Maybe the real question is: “Are you willing to do the work it takes to be well?”

Because healing isn’t easy. 

It’s deep work. Soul work. It’s painful. But it’s also so, so worth it. 

It’s not just about you—it’s about the generations that come after you. 

It’s the difference between your child being proud of you one day… 

or standing across from you as a grown adult, listing every way they feel you failed them— 

because you never did the work yourself.

“Is it worth it?” 

“Are you willing to do the work?” 

Let those questions settle in your heart.

Back to the father in Mark 9… 

In that moment, he makes a choice. 

And he cries out—with tears: 

“Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief.”

That gets me every time. 

He chose to believe, even while admitting his faith was weak. 

And Jesus? He took that honest faith—that fragile but willing belief—and honored it. 

He rebuked the unclean spirit and set the boy free.

Listen… 

Sometimes, the pain of unanswered prayers, the exhaustion of trying and failing, can wear down your faith. 

But choosing to believe again—standing up again, even when it hurts—that’s what moves the heart of God.

Our children… they’re our hearts walking around outside our bodies. 

And only Jesus has the power to truly heal them. 

Only Jesus can set them free.

Our job? 

Don’t give up. 

Even when hope feels far away. 

Even when faith feels like a whisper. 

Don’t stop.

Ask Jesus to help you trust again. 

Ask Him to help the part of you that’s afraid to believe.

And hold tight to His words in Mark 9:23: 

“All things are possible to him who believes.”

Thanks for sitting with me in this moment. 

If you're walking this road, know this—you’re not alone. 

Jesus sees your heart, and He sees your child. 

And there is always hope in Him.

with love, vicky