Matthew 11:1-6: in context

John the Baptist, who had boldly announced Jesus as the coming one, is now in prison, and doubt creeps in. He sends his disciples to ask Jesus a startling question: are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another? The great forerunner, who had pointed others to Christ, now wavers in the darkness of his cell. Jesus does not rebuke the doubt. He answers gently, pointing to his works: the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news preached to them.

It is arresting that John the Baptist, of all people, doubted. This was the man who had recognized Jesus, baptized him, pointed his own followers to him, declared him the Lamb of God. And now, in the hardship and darkness of prison, he wavers, sending to ask whether Jesus is really the one after all. Even the strongest faith can falter in hard circumstances; even a great saint, in the darkness of suffering and disappointment, can be visited by doubt. There is a strange comfort in seeing that John was not immune. And there is greater comfort in how Jesus responded. He did not rebuke John, did not condemn his doubt, did not turn from him in disappointment. He answered gently, pointing John's disciples to the evidence of his works, giving John's wavering faith something to rest on: go and tell John what you see and hear. Jesus met honest doubt not with anger but with patience and reassurance, gently supplying the ground the doubting faith needed. This tells us how Jesus meets our own doubts. We may imagine that to doubt is to be rejected, that if our faith wavers in hard times, as even John's did, Jesus will turn from us in displeasure. But he met John's doubt with gentleness, and he meets ours the same way. Honest doubt brought to him, the questioning that arises in darkness and hardship, is not met with condemnation but with patience, with reassurance, with what our faith needs to rest on. A bruised reed he will not break, Isaiah says, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he tends the faltering faith rather than crushing it. This frees us to bring our doubts to him rather than hiding them in shame. When our faith wavers in hard circumstances, as John's wavered in prison, we may bring the honest question to Jesus, trusting that he meets doubt with gentleness, not rebuke. He did not despise John's question; he answered it. And he does not despise ours, but meets our honest doubt with the patience and reassurance that tends a faltering faith rather than crushing it.

When my faith wavers in hard circumstances, as even John the Baptist's faith wavered in prison, do I hide my doubt in shame, imagining that to question is to be rejected, or can I bring my honest doubt to Jesus, trusting that he who met John's question not with rebuke but with gentle reassurance meets my doubt the same way, tending my faltering faith rather than crushing it?