Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.
Since I have a disability I realize I learn things others won’t grasp. I’m learning to embrace the waves that push me to the rock–the Rock of ages. I suppose when I meet Him I’ll understand why it had to be so.
My hope is real. Heaven is home. My pain will be healed.
There is a language of heaven spoken, and those who have suffered speak a dialect of that. Just as someone from Georgia communicates English, their dialect is obvious. The same for those who live in pain. We speak the same, but differently.
Pain sometimes saturates our lives.
We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 becomes our Psalm. Nothing here is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It puts our pain under a microscope. That Psalm is entirely yours.
“For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength,”
Psalm 88:3-4
“I am certain that I never did grow in grace one-half so much anywhere as I have upon the bed of pain.”
Once I was punched in the face while preaching. At the time I was an evangelist with SOS Ministries in 1987. I was leading a group to Haight/Ashbury St. in San Francisco. I remember it was really busy, and it was a good team, and they were excited to take their church to the streets.
Haight/Ashbury was the place the “summer of love” kicked off, it peaked in 1968. It has a certain sense of notoriety, and even in 1983 it still had a dubious reputation as a center of the counter-culture. “A cult a day is born in San Francisco,” a pastor friend once shared with me.
Normally the neighborhood where I took a team would direct me on how to preach. Tonight especially I focused on God’s love for sinful people.
That message seemed appropriate for this place, especially on this street. God loves these people very much.
A young man came forward. He told me that he was a backslidden Christian, and his father was an Assembly of God pastor. He had run away from home. Suddenly he began to weep. The entire team seemed to lean forward and I know they were praying earnestly for him. It seemed to me that he was teetering on the brink.
His punch however came unexpectedly.
His fist hit me square in the nose. My eyes began to water. Oddly enough he took a step back and began to really cry out. My team wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but I hoped they prayed even harder. I sort of gasped and tried to shake it off. Someone must have called the police.
The Holy Spirit was very much present, both convicting and comforting each of us.
One or two minutes went by and suddenly he stopped sobbing and he became really angry. He took a step and then tried to kick me in the stomach, but I dropped the mic and caught his foot. I was ready for him this time.
About 20 minutes went by before SFPD showed up and asked if I wanted to press charges. I thought for a bit, but deep down I knew that wasn’t the will of my Father. Maybe I should of, I don’t know. But I thought about my own sin and couldn’t judge no one.
The Father was reaching him while teaching me!
God loves His prodigal children very much, He understands the guilt and shame (and frustration) they feel. The Father however is always watching and waiting. He works through life’s circumstances to lead them home. Each belongs to Him. He continues far past what we think is possible. He will never give up.
“We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.”
1 John 3:16
I suddenly saw a “wounded” brother, very confused and quite angry. Not with me, the team, or the music–but with God who created him, and died for him.
At that moment in time, I just happened to be God’s love for this prodigal.
“When he came down from the mountain, great crowds followed him. 2 And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” 3 And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, “I will; be clean.” And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.”
Matthew 8:1-4
It was a wild scene, we can’t forget this. But it’s funny, Jesus through all this sees and hears this leper. He doesn’t respond to the crowd but to the diseased man. The text tells us that the leperous man was on his knees and he was “praying.” His pleas were directed at Jesus.
But remember, the end of the previous verses explains exactly what’s happening. Matthew 7:28-29, (MSG) explains their excitement–
“When Jesus concluded his address, the crowd burst into applause. They had never heard teaching like this. It was apparent that he was living everything he was saying—quite a contrast to their religion teachers! This was the best teaching they had ever heard.“
The crowds responded wildly to the marvelous teaching of Jesus, and that was awesome. We really shouldn’t minimize that. However, in the Gospels, the “crowd” is pretty much a bad term, or at least a neutral one.
I suppose that Jesus seems to ignore the multitude’s extremely positive reaction. He knows it won’t last. The fickle crowd will soon cry out and demand His crucifixion.
But I understand, I’m that leper and He sees me.
Scripture tells me that Jesus now sits in heaven and makes intercession for me. He focuses on just me, I’m the center of His care–but I also know that attention is also on you, and others, and yet I’m assured that He sees me and each of His sheep. This should be a comfort. He concentrates and ministers to the person, and never to the multitude.
Jesus loves you, and He loves me too.
“So he told them this parable: 4 “What man among you, who has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open field and go after the lost one until he finds it?5 When he has found it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders, 6 and coming home, he calls his friends and neighbors together, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found my lost sheep!’”
