When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored to the shore. And when they got out of the boat, the people immediately recognized him and ran about the whole region and began to bring the sick people on their beds to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he came, in villages, cities, or countryside, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and implored him that they might touch even the fringe of his garment. And as many as touched it were made well. — Mark 6:53-56
Not too long before this in Mark's narrative, we are told of Jesus returning to His hometown of Nazareth where the people where "offended" by His teaching and authority causing Christ to utter the proverb, "A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and among his relatives and in his own household." Because the Nazarenes refused to believe, Jesus could do no great works among them, though He did lay hands on and heal a few sick folks. Now the people of Gennesaret were unlikely to be better people than Jesus' kinfolks in Nazareth. Yet here Christ was sought out, honored, and believed. As a result, many were delivered and made whole.
It is natural for us to think that God takes care of the good people, and the devil takes the bad. But, as Jesus pointed out, there is none good but God. I have met some saintly people, some people who seemed to have transcended all the temptations of the material world, but they are invariably those who have been touched by the Divine. It is His grace in the life of the broken that brings them to wholeness. He makes the unrighteous righteous. After all, it is not the healthy who need a physician but the sick, and the Great Physician can make the sickest well, "...even the one who could not keep himself alive" (Psalm 22:29).
I am all too aware of my own faults and failures. Despite doing my best for many years now to follow Christ, I find that I am hardly what I should be. There remains in me much that is sick. I have a choice. I can continue to try to fix it by my own efforts, or I can do as the people of Gennesaret did. I can run to Christ. I can lay my troubled soul down in the marketplace, out there for everyone to see, and I can beg Jesus to just pass by so that I might touch the fringe of His flowing grace.
It's pretty humiliating. I should have overcome this a long time ago. I should not be in this state. But I am. I can continue to limp along, crippled and tormented, hiding my sickness from the world, maintaining the illusion that all is well. Or I can admit that I am broken despite all my knowledge and strength and ability. Perhaps I will even need some help to get where I need to be. We are often like the paralytic who was carried to Christ by his four friends who, unable to get through the press of the crowd, climbed up on the roof to lower their friend down to Jesus. It is a good thing there were four of them, for one or two could not have gotten the man lifted up to the roof, nor effectively lowered him into the room where Jesus sat. That is even more destructive to our pride, to be dependent on the support and prayers of others to get to where we can come in contact with Jesus.
When we are willing to limp or crawl or be carried by our brothers and sisters out into the open, we will be made whole, not because we are deserving, not because we are good, not because we are special, but because we are there — because Jesus sees our faith or the faith of our friends. His grace flows to us to make us righteous, to fix the broken parts of our lives, to bind up our wounds, to deliver us from bondage.
But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. — Titus 3:4-7
8 comments:
I seem to be mostly short on words these days, so I'll just say an amen. To this and the post before.
I am no preacher, but all any preacher asks is an 'amen' once in while. ;^)
Fringe benefits of the best kind.
Thanks Mushroom. I have trouble enough admitting my sins to God. I can't imagine sharing them with anyone. I'm afraid I'd rather suffer in private than share.
Pride. I has it.
You have to be careful. I don't think we ought to go out on the street corner with a bullhorn and tell everybody that we are overly enamored of Sandra Bullock's rear or anything like that (see "The Blind Side" for reference).
The marketplace is kind of a metaphor for transparency. I think Christians sometimes like to "keep up appearances" because we're not supposed to have any problems. Nobody we know at church has any problems. Everybody's marriage is wonderful. Everybody's kids are perfect. There's this sort of a conspiracy to keep ugly issues under wraps. Jesus can really fix anything, but you have to carry it to Him. Most of the time we can limp over to where He is.
But occasionally, and I have been in this situation, individuals get so oppressed and battered, sometimes by their own sin, sometimes by the sins of those around them, sometimes -- for want of a better term -- by a demonic assaults, that they are paralyzed. I have been to the point where it was all I could do just to hang on. Of course, I had my wife and she called a couple of trusted friends, and they carried me.
I am all for independence and self-reliance, and even a certain amount of the right kind of pride is good. But we should never get so invested in doing everything on our own that we forget God did not build us for that.
Great post, Mush, and comments.
"It's pretty humiliating. I should have overcome this a long time ago. I should not be in this state. But I am."
My constant thought in words.
Maybe it comes with the territory. The more you learn, the more faults you find in yourself. The more tormentors you attract. Imagine the torments of a saint in the process of becoming.
If we didn't care about the sins, as in a "this is hopeless" or "this is impossible, heck with it" sort of way, that would be a bad sign.
Don't they say that the devil dropped everything he was doing (everyone else) when he saw what Jesus was up to. This is how Jesus drew all our sins on himself. The serious seeker is, in this way, Jesus in miniature. The tormentors come to the territory (sins re-re-re-fought), they are drawn there/here. Why should the serious seeker get a free ride.
But we forget. And so we refight. And relose. I have a poor memory. Sometimes it's a blessing -- I can move on easier because of it (and God doesn't make mistakes -- I try to find the gift in the poor memory -- that there is a meaning for it is a kind of faith) but as many times it seems a curse. Because it is that too.
This is how Jesus drew all our sins on himself. The serious seeker is, in this way, Jesus in miniature. The tormentors come to the territory...
If you had written that first, you could have saved me a lot of typing. :0) But typing is kind of fun, so I appreciate it now, too.
As one of our favorites says, For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow. (Ecclesiastes 1:18, ESV)
Or, as my wife might put it, the only reason you're not terrified is because you don't really understand the situation -- see Randy Newman's "It's a Jungle Out There", the theme song for "Monk".
"Or, as my wife might put it, the only reason you're not terrified is because you don't really understand the situation"
I like her :-)
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