desperate

Under Command

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 When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help. 6 “Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”

7 Jesus said to him, “Shall I come and heal him?”

8 The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. 9 For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

13 Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that moment.

Matthew 8:5-9, 13; (see Luke 7:2-10)

Obedience was how we would survive. I understood authority and submission to my superior officers. It’s known as “the chain of command” and it’s the reason why armies function well. I blended my will to my superior, and I knew he was also under authority to his own superior.

It wasn’t easy duty as a Roman soldier among the Jews. We were hated everywhere.

But my servant was paralyzed, and I knew that he was suffering greatly, but I had run out of options. My servant was the only family I was allowed to have. Since I served as a centurion I was not allowed to have a wife for the duration of my service. Over the years I’ve kept close and trustworthy servants with me–these men were very dear to me. They were my family.

I certainly was aware that we lived in constant danger from radical Jews, especially the Zealots. They had already assassinated some of my men.

I had exhausted all efforts to bring some relief and healing to my servant, he seemed to be getting worse, not better. I had information that there was an itinerant teacher who had a reputation as a healer of diseases. This man, Jesus from Nazareth, had a large following and I realized that He was now my only possible solution.

So I went to Him for help.

He wanted to return with me to my home. His willingness to come encouraged me, but I simply couldn’t allow that. Jesus’ visit would’ve made Him ceremonially unclean–I was a Gentile, a “dog.” Returning with Him would only sow doubt among my men.

I understood that my home was officially off-limits to Him.

But yet I did understand something. I was under authority as a centurion in the Roman army, and my men followed my orders. Obedience meant survival in a very angry and hostile environment like Judea. Our entire unit was constantly drilled in this, and each man understood the need for following authority. We had to obey our superiors.

So I simply asked Jesus to heal my servant, with just His word of command.

Jesus marveled at this. He said that my adherence to protocol was evidence of real faith. I think it’s funny but He made me an equal with the Israel patriarchs. My faith was now to be emulated by the Jews.

As a Roman centurion I knew I deserved nothing. Simply, Jesus spoke a command and when I returned home my servant was healed. I came and found him completely healthy.

“As the authority of the Caesars flowed through his own yielded life, so the authority of God over diseases, demons, and all else would flow through Christ’s.”

F.B. Meyer

“Christ will always accept the faith that puts its trust in Him.”

    Andrew Murray

Why, God Why?

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“Why have you made me your target?…Why do you hide your face?…Why should I struggle in vain?…Why does the Almighty not set times for judgment?…Why then did you bring me out of the womb?”

Job 7:20, 13:24, 9:29, 24:1, 10:18

Job’s profound suffering is one of the most extreme in all of human history. He is essentially a godly man who loses everything (except his faith). Job must pick up the pieces after “catastrophic ” sudden pain and total loss.

Only the brutality of the cross of Jesus eclipsed the suffering of Job.

Job is being tested with dark horrors. Will he “curse God and die” as his wife suggests? Will he cave in to the final four “friends” and accept their twisted theology? (I guess that you have to read chapters 38-39 to find out).

The Book of Job has been regarded as inaccessible and archaic by many.

Unfortunately, many believe this assessment and look elsewhere for comfort. I would agree that Job is a challenging book, but so is Macbeth or Plato. There are plenty of easier books to read; but if we choose to avoid Job, our faith will always be deficient. We will miss something vital.

Job is less an explanation and more a revelation of suffering. “Why” questions go unanswered. “Who” questions matter. I suppose this seems unfair to Job. It certainly seems so to me, but straight answers in a fallen world won’t get any traction at all.

One more thing. The Book of Job is about “twisted” theology. Job’s friends “toe-the-party-line” of theology that is logical. But don’t be mislead by their pronouncements, for they seem reasonable but they are all very much flawed.

I always find it strangely amusing when some quote Eliphaz or one of the other “friends” to encourage or comfort a suffering saint. They totally miss the point of the book. We desperately want to give out good counsel but we really don’t understand.

Very often their doctrine is a doctrine devoid of love.

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” 1 Cor. 13:2

You can’t split your theology from love and get away with it. Something toxic happens if you try.

When you read “Job’s friends” you must remember that. These are lessons it takes a long time to learn. Unless the Holy Spirit tutors you, be very slow to speak. (Job’s friends were at their best at the beginning when they said nothing at all.)

The broken believer, hobbled by chronic illness, has much to learn from Job. He is like “the poster child” for those afflicted. My own illnesses are always an issue of course, but God is fully in control. He brings beauty out of the ashes. He has been more than gracious.

In my pain I cling to this promise found in Isaiah 61.

“To bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.”
Isaiah 61:3

“The moment an ill can be patiently handled, it is disarmed of its poison, though not of its pain.”
Henry Ward Beecher

Becoming His Friend

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“A rule I have had for years is: to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.”

  ~D.L. Moody

Friendship with God can be a liberating secret for the believer. It releases us from the terrible bondage of religion and ritual with all its negative connotations. Intimacy with our Lord will carry us beyond creed or doctrine to the place of true communion..

Abraham. Moses. David. The disciples. Paul. Each experienced a relationship with God. This friendship developed over time. I suppose it’s not unlike any other friendship. Being with each other–a special holy familiarity grows.

“I no longer call you slaves, because a master doesn’t confide in his slaves. Now you are my friends since I have told you everything the Father told me.”

John 15:15, NLT

Friendship with Jesus will bring true guidance. He shares secrets and wisdom with his friends. We are brought into a true knowledge of the Kingdom through the relationship of friendship with the King. We are not slaves– or drones, slavishly serving out of slavish fear.

We are now His friends!

Jesus’ kingdom is packed full of great mysteries! He is looking to bring us into the authenticity of constant communion. Only through intimacy with Jesus can we truly handle what He wants to teach us. (See Psalm 25:14; John 15:15.)

Here are 8 ways you can grow your friendship with God. (I found this list somewhere.)

  1. Make time to draw close to Him. …
  2. Revere Him. …
  3. Rejoice at His counsel and trust His corrections. …
  4. Obey what’s on His heart. …
  5. Celebrate what He is doing in you, and in others. …
  6. Have a pure heart and speak with grace. …
  7. Love Him unwaveringly, intimately, and sacrificially.

Friendship with Jesus comes with a price. It means we are now tethered to the Lord. That can get old, especially when I want to do my own thing. I will continually have to lay something down and choose to accept being tethered and follow Him.

But my soul now has a best friend. Or just maybe, Jesus has been my friend all along, and I just didn’t know it.

A good resource can be found here.

Everyone Could See Me

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John 8:3-11

3 Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, making her stand in the center. 4 “Teacher,” they said to him, “this woman was caught in the act of committing adultery. 5 In the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 They asked this to trap him, in order that they might have evidence to accuse him.

Jesus stooped down and started writing on the ground with his finger. 7 When they persisted in questioning him, he stood up and said to them, “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Then he stooped down again and continued writing on the ground. 9 When they heard this, they left one by one, starting with the older men. Only he was left, with the woman in the center. 10 When Jesus stood up, he said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, Lord,” she answered.

I remember how Jesus defended me. I had been led through the crowds. The temple was filled with people who were there for the festival. It was a time of joy and feasting, but not for me. Definitely not for me.

The temple police escorted me to Jesus. I was now the focus of everyone’s attention. I felt dirty and ashamed. Standing there I could feel the lustful looks from the Pharisees; but there was something else as well, a look from Jesus that I had never seen before. There was compassion there, something quite extraordinary.

I’m ashamed, I committed adultery, I had slept with another man who wasn’t my husband.

I was to be stoned, to have hard rocks thrown at me by “holy” men. The Law had pronounced my guilt, and I knew how I was to be punished. And I deserved it. Yet the man who I slept with was never charged, he escaped and it was I that would be put to death. I didn’t blame him.

My shame was now public knowledge–everyone knew, the Pharisees made sure of that.

They only put me front and center to test Him.

These men who brought me had ulterior motives, they desperately hoped Jesus would stumble. I think they wanted to prove once and all to the crowds that were watching that Jesus really wasn’t the Messiah. They wanted to trap him.

Jesus seemed to understand the implications of this satanic effort.

Only Rome had the power of execution, and yet the Mosaic Law declared that I was to die. I stood waiting, expecting the worst. What else could I do?

It’s funny, but Jesus understood all of this. He seemed to look right through this theological trick, and He responded in a way that really shocked everyone. He never spoke, but bowed low and began to write in the dirt with his finger. Amidst their vicious accusations, they pressed their case.

Jesus bent down again, and he wrote some more.

I never knew what he wrote–but I had to believe it must have been something that revealed the sin in the hidden hearts of the men who were accusing me. In that moment, they quickly dropped the case against me. They all filed out, one by one, in dramatic fashion. I now stood alone with Jesus.

And Jesus looked directly at me.

I was still afraid, but it was strange, I felt a wave of peace as well. I quietly waited, not knowing what He was going to say to me. I suppose I half expected the worst.

Yes, he did confront me. But He wanted me to acknowledge that those accusing men had left. I saw it and understood. Jesus was asking me to believe that I was now really free. But then he wanted me to understand something that seemed quite crucial.

“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

That dear one was a powerful moment. He set me free with the understanding that He did not condemn me. But my freedom from judgement came with a catch–sort of. I knew then that my sin must be renounced. My freedom came with a price. But knowing I was completely released, meant I was now a free woman.

At that moment I understood completely.

“God pardons like a mother, who kisses the offense into everlasting forgiveness.”

    Henry Ward Beecher

God, Have Mercy On Me

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Luke 18:9-14

“He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and looked down on everyone else: 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee was standing and praying like this about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I’m not like other people—greedy, unrighteous, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of everything I get.’”

13 “But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even raise his eyes to heaven but kept striking his chest and saying, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this one went down to his house justified rather than the other, because everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

He despised others. As a Pharisee he prided himself as a holy person; he stood before God and congratulated himself. I believe that self-righteousness has many levels. You can be blatant and obvious about it, or it can be subtle and hidden. But we must understand that the father sees and knows. Notice the “we all” here in Isaiah 64:6–

“We are all like one who is unclean, all our so-called righteous acts are like a menstrual rag in your sight. We all wither like a leaf; our carry us away like the wind.”

(Hmm. Is that what He sees? A menstrual rag? You got to be kidding!)

We often advance ourselves by demeaning those who struggle hard with their sin–there are those who see and somehow know that they’re superior. We don’t come out and say so; but we’ve arrived— but guess what— God (and scripture) tell us something radically different.

But we’re not dealing here with a hidden self-righteousness. The Pharisee truly believes that he is special. He stands and doesn’t kneel. He feels comfortable and confident in the holy presence of God Almighty. He’s not like the others. He is sure that he’s holy.

Look though, the tax-collector was being brutally honest.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him how sinful he was—he understood his own wickedness. Jesus’ story reveals God’s love for those who know that they’re twisted inside. Notice the heart of the tax-collector:

  • “He stood afar off” which showed his awareness of his separation from God.
  • “He wouldn’t even raise his eyes to heaven,” which declared his humility in the presence of God.
  • He kept “striking his chest,” which tells us of a deep pain over his sin against God.
  • He prayed, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ This describes his desperate heart.

These both came to pray, but that is all they had in common.

The Pharisee came to the temple to show off his righteousness, the tax-collector out of a terrible despair. It strikes me that the text in verse 11 says the Pharisee “began praying to himself.” It seems that his prayer never really met God—he was proud and showy, doing the things God hates (Prov. 29:23).

Things really came obvious in verse 14. That’s the critical point of the entire story—“one went down to his house justified rather than the other.” Wow! What a statement. One professionally religious man, sure of his holiness, the other a sinful sinner, who came humble and broken. One showed off his faith—boasting with a legalistic swagger. The other desperate and desolate, completely undone.

But it was the tax-man who became righteous in the eyes of God.

Humility is the foundation of the kingdom of Jesus. In Matthew 5:3-4 makes a lot of sense—to be “poor in spirit” and to “mourn” are the bedrock of a Christian’s discipleship. To be justified (made right) was a gift. He didn’t try to earn it, and there wasn’t a probationary period. The tax-collector now became righteous; the Pharisee carried his sin.

God wants us to have a broken-heart. He rejects everything else. I suppose that the question is this: Do you mourn over your sin? 

“The Lord is near the brokenhearted;
he saves those crushed in spirit

Psalm 34:18

Art by Eugène Burnand

The Stomach Churning Sin of Manasseh

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God’s temple was now filled with an evil darkness. King Manasseh made the Lord’s holy place a fountain of sin and filth. Instead of holiness, it was an evil place.

He brought in dark things that were twisted, perverted and clearly forbidden.

“Manasseh led Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem astray, to do more evil than the nations whom the Lord destroyed before the people of Israel.”

2 Chronicles 33:9, ESV

His own darkness was now encouraged by others, it became accessible, available and promoted:

  • The high places were rebuilt throughout the land.
  • Altars to Baal rebuilt, using images of wood.
  • In the holy temple, altars to the “starry host,” astrology, plain and simple.
  • Human sacrifice of his own sons to Molech, a false god. Murder.
  • He practiced soothsaying, used witchcraft and sorcery, and consulted mediums and spiritists.

Evil was being encouraged and something wicked was replacing all that was good and true. The analysis of Manasseh’s policies was way beyond disturbing. Of all the kings of Judah, he was the most sinful and the most corrupt. He was at the bottom of the barrel.

The Hebrew word for “led astray” can be translated seduced.

Manasseh was an incredibly immoral man, a king who ruled for 40 years. “He did all he could to pervert the national character, and totally destroy the worship of the true God; and he succeeded.” (Clarke)

It’s believed that he put Isaiah to death by cutting him in two.

Moreover Manasseh shed very much innocent blood, till he had filled Jerusalem from one end to another, besides his sin by which he made Judah sin, in doing evil in the sight of the LORD.

1 Kings 21:16

But then something happened.

And the LORD spoke to Manasseh and his people, but they would not listen. Therefore the LORD brought upon them the captains of the army of the king of Assyria, who took Manasseh with hooks, bound him with bronze fetters, and carried him off to Babylon.

2 Chronicles 33:10-11

Assyria came knocking on Manasseh’s door. I think there was a certain mercy here, but also discipline. Manasseh had “hooks,” inserted through his jaw and out of his mouth. Like a fish he was led to Babylon, a trophy of the power of the army of Babylon.

It was from a dark dungeon that Manasseh cried out to the Lord and repented.

(2 Chronicles 33:12-13.)

There’s a Jewish fable that when Manasseh cried out to God the angels boarded up the windows in heaven. They wanted to block out his prayer so God wouldn’t be able to hear. But God, rich in mercy, bored a hole in front of His throne to hear Manasseh’s desperate cry.

The Lord’s intention was to forever show His kindness and grace given to the most awful repentant sinner.

I believe that Manasseh was the “Prodigal Son” of the Old Testament.

God is not at a loss when He moves to bring us back to Himself. He can woo or whip. He can draw or drive. He can work rapidly or slowly, as He pleases. In other words, He is free to be God! And in His own way, at His own pace, He brings us back.

     Tom Wells

God is wildly in love with you. Yes, the sin you’ve committed is awful, but the Lord wants you to come back. He may discipline you, but He forgives everything if you’ll turn and repent.

No matter how awful your sin, He forgives and restores. Manasseh is proof of that.

Sources:

2 Chronicles 33:1-20

2 Kings 21:1-18

Enduring Word commentary

alaskabibleteacher.com

Sharp Knife Worship

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In biblical hermeneutics, the “Law of First Mention” states that the initial occurrence of a word or concept in scripture determines its subsequent understanding. Obviously the book of Genesis is a main source of these initial mentions.

In Genesis 22, we have the story of Abraham and Isaac on Mt. Moriah.

Abraham has tied his son on an altar to offer him as a sacrifice in obedience to God’s direction (v. 2). His faith is tested to the ultimate extreme. Abraham shows us how to enter into real worship.

“Then on the third day Abraham lifted his eyes and saw the place afar off. 5 And Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the lad and I will go yonder and worship, and we will come back to you.”

Genesis 22:4-5

This is the first time in scripture the word “worship” is used.

It sets the singular tone for all the scriptures on this subject. I guess what’s really interesting is that there are no musical instruments involved. There were just these needful things:

  • stones
  • wood
  • rope
  • fire
  • a knife
  • and Isaac, (the would be ‘lamb.’)

When the Hebrew word for ‘worship’ was used for the first time, it was infused with the idea of a sacrifice. Abraham is the first ‘worship leader’ and he has no guitar. No piano, or drums either. No musical instruments whatsoever. No amplifier, no overhead lyrics to speak of.

Just a handmade altar, and a very sharp knife.

In the end, as Abraham raises that knife, and he is suddenly stopped, (to the relief of us all). His faith has withstood the test, and he has genuinely ‘worshiped.’

“But the Angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” So he said, “Here I am.” And He said, “Do not lay your hand on the lad, or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.”

Gen. 22:11-12

Principle One:

There really can’t be worship without sacrifice.

Sometimes we think that only talented and gifted people should lead worship, and maybe they should. But in reality, we all must worship, regardless of our talents or skills. Let’s remember that worship isn’t about impressing others, but it’s about expressing our devotion and commitment to God. But in the long run, there needs to be a sacrifice of some sort. It may be something small, but it’s always dear.

Principle Two:

The first worshiper didn’t use a guitar, but a knife.

This difference keeps the idea of sacrifice in its definition. I truly believe that there can’t be real worship without sacrifice. The knife thrust he was ready to use wasn’t backed up by drums or piano. Yet Abraham understood worship every step he took to Mt. Moriah with the knife in his belt.

Jesus is my Isaac, my sacrifice. He died so I now live.

We must realize our sacrifice is the Lamb of God. It’s His blood on God’s altar for our sin. As believers, our faith firmly rests in this spiritual fact. It’s a sacrifice, and He did it for us. We of all people have cause to really worship.

“God wills to be displayed and known and loved and cherished and worshiped.”

    John Piper

Our City of Refuge

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“Unless we are thoroughly convinced that without Christ we are under the eternal curse of God, as the worst of His enemies, we shall never flee to Him for refuge.”

   John Owen

Buried in the Old Testament we discover the idea of the Cities of Refuge.

They speak profoundly to our situation and bring real hope to those who struggle. Six places of safety were given to protect those who accidentally killed another person— maybe an ax head flew and hit someone, and they died as a result.

God told Joshua to establish cities of protection where one could be safe from an avenger. There were six of them, three on the east side of the Jordan river, and three on the west. The cities covered Israel; each was spread out intentionally so they were always close.

That city became a place of asylum for those guilty of manslaughter.

As believers, we know that we’ve committed crimes against God and other people. The burden we carry threatens to undo us. Satan (and his minions) want to destroy us—and honestly, we deserve it. We are essentially spiritual ‘criminals’ who have hurt others and damaged ourselves in the process.

Outside the city, we’re vulnerable—but inside those walls we find safety.

Those who have killed others are protected. If we venture outside, we find our adversary who is waiting. Scripture tells us that we must stay cloistered there until the current high priest dies. Upon his death, we’re released and may leave the city walls.

For broken believers, the whole concept rings true.

The text speaks for itself, and there is spiritual logic in all of this. We see parallels here that speak to our condition. We’ve messed up big time. We also carry issues that the enemy can attack. Depression, bipolar, trauma, and even thoughts of committing suicide— can be a fundamental part of our lives.

I must tell you that safety is found only in the Savior.

Finding God and abiding in him is our place of safety. His walls protect us, Jesus is our high priest, who never dies; that means we need to stay with him, permanently. I like Hebrews 6:18, LB:

“Now all those who flee to him to save them can take new courage when they hear such assurances from God; now they can know without a doubt that he will give them the salvation he has promised them.”

For us especially, we often have problems with the doctrine of assurance of salvation. Our enemy works overtime to accuse us (Rev.12:10). We’re his targets and the lies of many demons assault us. We can, at times, wonder if we’re really saved. We wonder if we are really forgiven, and we doubt our salvation. Satan’s efforts can be constant and crippling.

I encourage you to think this over and pray about this.

Numbers 35 is a good place to start. That chapter is pretty clear. Look also at Exodus 21:13-14; Joshua 20:1-6; Deuteronomy 19:2-13.

Refusing to Give Up

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Luke 18:1-8

“Now he told them a parable on the need for them to pray always and not give up. 2 “There was a judge in a certain town who didn’t fear God or respect people. 3 And a widow in that town kept coming to him, saying, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’”

4 “For a while he was unwilling, but later he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or respect people, 5 yet because this widow keeps pestering me, I will give her justice, so that she doesn’t wear me out by her persistent coming.’”

6 “Then the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 Will not God grant justice to his elect who cry out to him day and night? Will he delay helping them?”

8 “I tell you that he will swiftly grant them justice. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

This parable deals with heavy-duty prayer—not the weak watered-down stuff. But rather something that’s bold and confident. Jesus teaches us to intensify our prayers. There are parallels here with the woman from Canaan. We see Jesus seemingly ignore a seeker (Matthew 15:21-28, Message). I guess that bothers me somewhat. But he wants her faith to grow.

Jesus uses the word “unjust” to accentuate the story to his listeners. It more or less creates a tension where true faith can be seen up close. Back in the Old Testament we read of Jacob refusing to let go of the angel (Gen.32:22-25). We see Rachel who demanded children, “or else I die,” (Genesis 30:8). Both prevailed even when confronted with difficult situations.

“Don’t give up” in verse 1 explains this passage.

Discouragement is a frontal assault on a believer’s faith. Satan uses different tactics, but attacking ones faith is his specialty. Whenever Satan sees faith, he attacks. He absolutely hates your relationship with the Father. He will turn you against him if he can. We are told that our faith must become a shield when he tries to assault us, (Ephesians 6:16).

It seems that to me that some believers refuse to wear their armor. They don’t realize how vulnerable they really are.

This parable is clear. Often God seems to be distant and unconcerned, but that isn’t true, and yet Satan insists that it is. As believers we’re told to press the father about our need. Repeatedly, we’re told that God is very much aware of us, he only wants to build our faith—to make it strong. He uses Satan’s assault on us to magnify the fathers glory.

The widow is a case in point. She demands that the judge listen to her case, and finally he relents. Her insistence is finally rewarded. He realizes that this widow isn’t going away. She’s starting to give him a headache, and she is very persistent. Her faith is stronger than his reluctance.

Our faith needs to be exercised. It’s very much like working out in a gym.

Weights are used, and once you’ve mastered one level, it’s increased. It may sound like a cliche, but God won’t give you anymore than you can handle, our faith isn’t much different. Sometimes we’ll sweat and strain spiritually, but we must understand that our faith has to be strengthened. We never seem to arrive.

You must understand that our faith will be tried, but that isn’t a bad thing. If God withdraws, then we must pursue. If he doesn’t answer we must crank it up. Like the widow we need to persevere; we must not give up. This is how your faith grows. Hebrews 11 declares what faith looks like when it’s wrapped up in flesh and bone.

“For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, it will be opened.”

Luke 11:10

Art by Eugène Burnand

Do You Belong in the Fellowship of Pain?

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The hands of a leper

“In one of the villages, Jesus met a man with an advanced case of leprosy. When the man saw Jesus, he bowed with his face to the ground, begging to be healed. “Lord,” he said, “if you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean.”

Luke 5:12, NLT

The Bible text reveals a man who is desperate.  His leprosy has advanced; he is covered with it from ‘head-to-toe.’ He’s an outcast now, completely infected by something he never asked for; he is ‘unclean’ and completely without hope. There is no treatment, the doctors can do nothing.

The leper knows that without the touch of Jesus, he’ll never be healed. 

He knows it; he doesn’t need to be convinced by anyone over the complete hopelessness of his condition. He is lost. And yet he has heard that Jesus can do incredible miracles. Could it be that Jesus can heal his sickness? The leper comes and falls on his knees before the Lord, with his face in the dirt. This man is completely broken; he has no hope, except for Jesus. What else can he do?

Our diseases differ, but our lives have been completely changed by our pain. We all have this in common. 

Our pain and darkness vary. Some hurt more, some less. But we’ve all come to the place where we no longer have illusions of somehow being made whole. Whenever we meet, I think there should be a secret handshake or a password. We all share a comradeship— we’re all part of the same community.  We’re a broken club of tired and decidedly unclean misfits.

We belong to the fellowship of pain.

Lying in the dirt, we start to believe the unbelievable.  Our faith doesn’t activate our healing, as much as it simply guides us to Jesus. We can kneel, and perhaps that’s all we need to do. His presence drives away the fear, the doubt, and the pain. He’s come, and somehow we begin to hope for mercy. Only he can carry us through this.

In times past I’ve struggled with deep dark depression. I’ve had to take meds.  But when I come into Jesus’ presence, all my melancholy is driven out. He comes and I start to hope again.  Am I a stellar example of perfect discipleship?  I think not. But isn’t about us becoming “angels,” perhaps it’s more about us learning how to kneel, and to allow Jesus to touch our hearts.

You must do this, repeatedly.

“The power of the Church is not a parade of flawless people, but of a flawless Christ who embraces our flaws.”

“The Church is not made up of whole people, rather of the broken people who find wholeness in a Christ who was broken for us.”   

–Mike Yaconelli

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