An enduring plea for unconditional love and trust in times of personal darkness.
Oh, the magic of a song that sounds like it’s been waiting for you, resting quietly in the back of your soul until the moment you needed it most. That’s the feeling that washes over you when you hear John Hiatt’s timeless ballad, “Have A Little Faith In Me.” Released in 1987 on the pivotal album Bring the Family, this song wasn’t an immediate commercial smash hit in the United States, failing to crack the main Billboard Hot 100 chart. However, its quiet power spoke volumes elsewhere, reaching No. 63 in Australia and finding a home on the US Billboard Album Rock Tracks chart (now Mainstream Rock) where it reached a modest peak of No. 14 in its original run. It’s a classic example of a “slow burner,” a song that gained legendary status not through a blitz of radio play, but through the deep resonance of its message, becoming a staple in films like Benny & Joon and Phenomenon, and inspiring countless covers by artists ranging from Joe Cocker to Mandy Moore.
The true story behind “Have A Little Faith In Me” is inextricably tied to a period of profound personal and professional rebirth for Hiatt. By the mid-1980s, the gifted but troubled songwriter was struggling with alcoholism and a career that, despite critical praise and songs being covered by major artists, had yet to deliver a breakout hit under his own name. He had released seven albums, all with limited success. This track, and the entire Bring the Family album, emerged from the emotional landscape of Hiatt’s sobriety and a new, stable relationship that brought him hope after years of chaos and the tragic loss of his second wife to suicide in 1985. It’s a redemption song, pure and simple, though delivered with the gentle humility of a man who knows he’s been to the edge and is now asking for a chance to rebuild.
Lyrically, the song is a heartfelt appeal for unconditional trust and a second chance. The simplicity of the imagery—a dark road, tears, a secret heart—lays bare a vulnerability that few artists ever truly capture. When Hiatt sings, “When the road gets dark / And you can no longer see / Just let my love throw a spark / And have a little faith in me,” he isn’t demanding belief; he’s offering his own enduring love as the anchor. It works on two deeply affecting levels: as a lover’s tender plea for patience during a difficult time, and as a kind of spiritual anthem, a gospel-like assurance that even in your darkest hour, there is an unwavering light—a profound message of steadfast hope that resonates across decades and generations. It’s a warm, embracing melody that feels like a loving arm around your shoulder, reminding you that faith isn’t about certainty, but about the beautiful, enduring promise of love.