Carried to Jesus

I’m sad that the healing of the paralytic story, found in three of the four gospels, didn’t make the cut for the lectionary. It’s my key story this weekend, a story about faith and trust and putting it all on the line.

I find it interesting that we don’t know whose idea it was to bring the crippled man to the Healer. Someone had heard about Jesus’ abilities - was it the cripple himself who begged his friends to take him? or was it a buddy who couldn’t bear to see this disabled man suffer when there was the possibility that he could walk again and have salvation, or wholeness, in the fullest sense of the word? Because as it turns out, he, like all of us, had sin needing to be forgiven. Jesus deals with that first even though his physical condition was glaringly obvious.

I don’t believe He said this because He had any belief that this man’s suffering was a result of his sin. He was teeing up for the rumble with the Pharisees and scribes, taking notes and sulking in the back row. They were no doubt mystified that people would believe in Jesus so much that they would carry a friend from who knows how far away and pull apart the roof on Jesus’ house to bring him to His’ feet. Forgiving sin? Only God could do that - this was blasphemy worthy of stoning to death. And yet Jesus anticipates their moves, saying that surely it was easier to forgive someone than to heal them. He tells the man to get up and walk (which he does, praising God with joy) and Jesus proves to the naysayers that He can do both healing and forgiving, two gifts that often go hand in hand and that are so needed.

As we continue to move through the chaos, frustration, sorrow and hurt of these times we’re living in, I wonder in this moment who we are most like in the story - the wounded who are worn out and close to giving up needing others to bring us to Jesus? a friend able to see those around us who are struggling and who Jesus could help in some way? someone in the crowd looking for comfort but from a distance? someone representing the church establishment terrified at the threat of change to the tried and true, possibly mistaking tradition for God?

There are certainly lots of us who are pretending we’re doing okay when really we’re as miserable as the man needing to be carried on the mat. There are lots of us wishing we had the energy of the friends and the vision to pull together to get him where he needed to go. There are lots of us a bit fringe from exhaustion or doubt that we can’t voice. There are lots of us hearing the cry to ‘get things back to normal’ as soon as possible. And yet we know we can’t go back, clinging to how we’ve always done it, and that is pretty scary because we have no idea what going forward looks like and who will be with us.

No matter who we are most like, Jesus sees us, deeply, penetratingly, lovingly. He knows all our faults and speaks forgiveness over us. He knows our wounds and fears and weariness and says It’s okay. He’ll give us the ability to walk again, to find our energy, to start something new. Maybe not right away, and maybe we will have to reach out to friends who can give the energy we don’t have right now to help get us there, but it will happen.

Maybe as we dare to put it all on the line, like those friends, God will use even us in that moment of absolute dependence, trust and faith. Maybe as we remove whatever roofs or people or distractions are in our way, we will see Jesus more clearly than ever before. Maybe not only will we be surprised and unable to stop praising God for what Jesus does for us, but maybe those around us, in and outside the church, will be amazed and unable to deny how good our God is.