As Jesus approached, he took in the whole scene at a glance: the sick boy, the despairing father, the sneering official, and the beaten disciples.
"O sir, my son has a terrible sickness!" said the father. "He even falls into the fire and hurts himself." He gave a pitiable little gesture toward his son, stretched on the bench. "Your disciples could not help him at all!"
Jesus turned to his disciples. They looked at him dully. Andrew stood a distance away; his face clearly showed his humiliation.
Jesus' voice had in it more of weariness and sorrow than sharpness. "How utterly faithless you are! You turn your backs on God himself! How long must I teach you? How much longer must I endure your cold hearts?" He turned to the man.
"How long has your son been like this?"
"From the time he was a little child," replied the father. "If you can do anything at all, help us! Do have pity on us!"
"Why do you say, 'If you can'? Do you not believe that I can heal this boy? Anything can be done for one who has real faith!" The disciples knew that Jesus might as well have been speaking to them.
"O Master," the man cried passionately, "I really do believe! Help me to be rid of my doubt and fear!"
Andrew realized that the man was like himself: torn between faith and doubt. "Master, help me to believe too," murmured Andrew.
Jesus turned to the boy and spoke to him. He gave a loud cry and then relaxed.