In the Bible, there’s a story about a father who brings his sick son to Jesus. The boy had been suffering for years, and the father was desperate. He said, “If You can do anything, help us.” Jesus answered, “If you can believe, all things are possible.” And the father replied, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)
That’s Jared’s prayer—even if he doesn’t know it. Not a fancy church prayer. Not perfect words. Just the kind that rise from a tired heart when life has taken too much. The kind God still hears.
Maybe faith isn’t about having it all together. Maybe it’s about showing up—late, angry, confused—and letting Jesus meet you where you are. Maybe faith is trusting that your story isn’t finished, even when you can’t see the next play.
Jared still struggles. He still runs late. Still messes up. But sometimes, when the ball leaves his hands mid-shot, he whispers, “Help my unbelief.” And somehow, that’s enough.
Because even when hope misses the shot—grace rebounds.
