Pastor Tracey Leslie
Scripture:  Genesis 18:1-15
part of the series “Building, Growing, Connecting: Living God’s Vision for Trinity”
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I come from a large extended family.  We had multiple clergy and church leaders among us.  Growing up, at family gatherings – for holidays and reunions – as the food was placed out on the tables or counters, the question was invariably asked: “Who’s going to say the blessing?”  It was often my dad, a Methodist pastor, or my uncle, also a Methodist pastor; although sometimes my uncle, a Methodist church musician.  Blessing the food and giving thanks to God for our family and fellowship was the one moment in those boisterous gatherings when everyone grew momentarily quiet and attention turned toward the unseen guest in our midst; the one who had blessed us with life together and woven us together into this one family.

“Blessing” is a religious word that has long been at home in the mainstream culture.  Sometimes people conclude their voicemail greeting with the words “Have a blessed day.”  Though initially stemming from superstition, few of us give much thought to extending a “God bless you” to someone when they sneeze.  But what does it mean to be blessed?  Where does blessing come from and what does it look like?

Blessings are pronouncements that solicit, distribute, or celebrate various forms of well-being such as fertility, good health, safety and happiness.[i]  Though blessings come to us through a variety of channels, their source or origin always traces back to God, the giver of every good and perfect gift.  From the beginning of scripture, God goes about the work of blessing.  In Genesis, chapter 1, there’s lots of blessing going on.  God blesses the animals, he blesses the man and woman, and he blesses the Sabbath day.  God is in the business of blessing.  So this morning’s scripture is a story about blessing.

Genesis chapter 12 marks a turn in our biblical drama; our attention is directed toward a central character, an old man named Abram[ii] (soon to be renamed Abraham) and his elderly barren wife, Sarai.  Over the course of six chapters, at least three times God will pronounce blessing in the form of a promised child – an heir – upon this old, infertile couple. 

But this morning’s story is also about hospitality and how the practice of hospitality can open us to God’s blessing.  One decade ago United Methodist Bishop Robert Schnase wrote a book called Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations.  The first practice Schnase named was Radical Hospitality and this morning’s story certainly gives witness to radical hospitality.

Though we may not relegate it to the religious semantic realm, hospitality – like blessing – is a spiritual concept.  Our bible is filled with stories about hospitality.  Within our biblical tradition, there is a clear and consistent message that, when we welcome a stranger as a friend and offer them our very best, they, in turn, impart a blessing to us.  In scripture, the word itself means “lover of strangers.”  The practice of hospitality differed from entertaining friends or family.  Hospitality was graciousness shown toward strangers in the hope of transforming them from stranger to friend.  Bible stories show us that hospitality is a spiritual practice because God is present in a real, although somewhat mysterious way, when we attend to the needs of strangers.  Let me repeat that:  God is present in a real, although somewhat mysterious way, through the strangers among us.  In the book of Hebrews we’re told:  “Do not neglect to show hospitality (to strangers), for by doing that some have entertained angels (or messengers) without knowing it.”  In other words, we may find ourselves blessed by God through the strangers who visit us. 

But whether or not we receive the blessing they bring us depends on whether or not we receive them in a gracious and open way.

As I’ve already mentioned, Genesis 18 marks the third time that Abraham receives the promise that he and Sarah, old and barren though they are, will conceive a child and that through that child Abraham will become a father to a nation and a blessing to all the people of the earth.  And this is a story set in a context of table fellowship and hospitality toward strangers; hospitality so extensive that it seems to demonstrate a passionate love toward these three visitors who turn out to be more than mere mortals. 

One of the most interesting things about this morning’s bible story is the ambiguity that surrounds the identity of these guests.  Our narrator introduces the story by announcing that it is a story of “the Lord” appearing to Abraham.  Yet, when Abraham looks up, what he sees are three men.  They appear to be travelers; strangers on a journey.  Then, suddenly, in verse 13, they take on the identity of “the Lord” yet again.  Even so, as soon as the story wraps up, at verse 16, our narrator explains, “Then the men set out from there.”  It is confusing to say the least.  Are these men, God incarnate, angels?  In the 15th century, Russian artist Andrei Rublev painted an icon of this scene of Abraham and Sarah and the three visitors that is sometimes known as the Holy Trinity.[iii]  It’s been printed in your program.  Now, I think defining these three travelers as Father, Son and Holy Spirit goes beyond what the story itself presents; it’s a narrative stretch.  Yet without a doubt, the identity of these three guests is ambiguous and ever-shifting.  And that is, I would contend, the most important point.  That the eternal Word of God became flesh in the historical Jesus is essential to our Christian faith.  Yet we should not assume that the incarnating presence of God began and ended in the first century.  As this morning’s story makes clear – as Jesus’ final parable of the sheep and goats in Matthew’s gospel makes clear – God is routinely in the business of coming among us as one of us and distinguishing God from the stranger in our midst is messy and ambiguous and perhaps a rather wasted effort.  So it may serve us well to admit that God somehow, in a way beyond our comprehension, incarnates as the stranger in our midst… a stranger who elicits our radical hospitality, yet also bestows God’s remarkable blessing. 

But it is, nevertheless, a surprise to us.  It was a surprise to Sarah too.  The radical blessing these travelers pronounce is so ridiculous she can’t help but chuckle to herself.  Having a child at her ripe old age?  But she’s not alone.  In fact, just one chapter prior in Genesis[iv] Abraham had also laughed.  Both Abe and Sarah struggle to accept that something so big, so miraculous, so illogical and wonderful could happen to them.  I mean, no offense, God, but this whole idea is a little over the top, right?

You know, we get visitors to Trinity pretty frequently and I think, generally speaking, we do a pretty good job of welcoming them.  We’re pretty friendly.  We say “good morning,” we thank them for joining us, we tell them we hope they’ll come back.  But that’s really not expecting much, is it?  I wonder if some of them might be Jesus in our midst.  I wonder if some of them might be sent to us by God.  I wonder if some might come to bring us God’s blessing.  And, if they do, will we receive it?  I mean, sure, we’ll be thankful if they come back to worship with us again; or maybe they’ll start to worship with us regularly; or, if we’re really lucky, maybe they’ll even join our membership rolls.  But, I wonder.  Maybe it could be something even bigger.  Maybe God is appearing through them to announce that something brand new and unexpected is about to be born here: a new idea, a new ministry, a new life coming to fruition; something so big that – like the progeny of Abraham and Sarah – it will be more than we can even count or tally.  Does that sound silly?  Does it make you chuckle?

This summer we had three Garden and Grills on our lawn.  We designed them as opportunities for us not only to serve, but to break bread and fellowship, with our neighbors.  If you attend today’s luncheon after worship, you’ll see on the program that the combined attendance for those three events was 260 and each time it was nearly a 50/50 split of church folks and community folks.  I wonder if some of those folks might have been messengers from God sent to bring us God’s blessing.  If you’re here in worship this morning and you attended a Garden and Grill and you had the privilege of striking up a conversation with someone from our community as you sat together at the table, would you stand for just a moment right now?  I want to say, “thank you” for the hospitality you extended to the strangers in our midst.

Christianity is all about relationships: our relationship with God through Christ and our relationships with others… and, as this morning’s story reveals, sometimes those two are linked in mysterious and astonishing ways.  Sometimes God comes as a stranger among us to bring a blessing.  But who will we see?  Will we simply see a newcomer and a guest?  Will we simply see a prospective new member?  Or, will we see that – in this one who appears among us – God may well be making his presence and his blessing known?  We can never begin to imagine the ways in which the simple show of hospitality prepares the soil for the sowing of God’s blessings.  How do we view one another?  How do we view the strangers in our midst?  How do we view the numerous and nameless people whose paths we cross day in and day out? 

Once a great monastery had only five monks left.  In the surrounding deep woods, there was a little hut that a Rabbi from a nearby town used from time to time for spiritual retreat. The monks always knew the Rabbi was there when they saw the smoke from his fire rise above the tree tops. As the Abbot agonized over the decline of his monastery, it occurred to him to ask the Rabbi if he could offer any wisdom or advice.

The Rabbi welcomed the Abbot into his hut. When the Abbot explained the reason for his visit, the Rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the Abbot and the Rabbi sat together discussing the Bible and their faiths. The time came when the Abbot had to leave. “It has been a wonderful visit,” said the Abbot, “but I have failed in my purpose. Is there nothing you can tell me to help save my dying monastery?” “The only thing I can tell you,” said the Rabbi, “is that the Messiah is among you.”

When the Abbot returned to the monastery, his fellow monks gathered around him and asked, “What did the Rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the Abbot answered. “The only thing he did say, as I was leaving was that the
Messiah is among us. Though I do not know what that means.”

In the months that followed, the monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the Rabbi’s words: The Messiah among us? Could he possibly have meant that the Messiah is one of us monks here at the monastery? If that’s the case, which one of us is the Messiah? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant the Abbot. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred!  Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, Elred is virtually always right.  Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred.  Of course the Rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did?”
As they turned the idea over in their minds, the monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, eager to honor and serve one another on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah.

Now, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the beautiful forest and monastery and without even being conscious of it, visitors began to sense a change at the monastery. They were sensing the extraordinary respect and hospitality that now filled the monastery. Hardly knowing why, people began to come there frequently to picnic, to play, and to pray. They began to bring their friends, and their friends brought their friends. Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the older monks. After a while, drawn by their hospitality and kindness, one asked if he could join them. Then, another and another asked if they too could join the abbot and older monks. Within a few years, the monastery once again became a thriving place, a vibrant center of light and life.[v] 
 
How do we view one another?  How do we view the strangers in our midst?  How do we view the numerous and nameless people whose paths we cross day in and day out?  It may serve us well to admit that God somehow, in a way beyond our comprehension, incarnates as the stranger in our midst… the holy “other” who elicits our radical hospitality, yet also bears God’s remarkable blessing.
 
[i] See The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible; vol. 1; 2006; Abingdon Press; p. 477.
[ii] See Genesis 17:5 for the story of Abram’s name change.
[iii] For more background on this icon, see Hospitality: The Heart of Spiritual Direction by Leslie A. Hay; Morehouse Publishing; 2006; pp. 37-42.
[iv] See Genesis 17:17.
[v] Story found on the website https://www.cityyear.org/rabbis-gift  Adapted from the Different Drum: Community Making and Peace by M. Scott Peck

 By Pastor Linda Dolby

A READING FROM MATTHEW 15:21-28   
Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. {22} Just then a Canaanite  woman from that region came out and started shouting, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." {23} But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us." {24} He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." {25} But she came and knelt before him,  saying, "Lord, help me." {26} He answered, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." {27} She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." {28} Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly.

Today I would like to tell you a story.  It is a story written by a pastor whose name is Richard Fairchild.  I have taken his story and made it into a “Readers Theater.” In doing so I ask myself - and hope that you will ask yourselves - what was the event like? - what were the people in it thinking about?  - what happened and why did it happen that way? How is God found in the story?  Stories help us to use our imagination, they help us to hear what God is saying to us, and when we listen and wonder  - as did our ancestors by their fires and in their temples and synagogues - the Holy Spirit helps us to hear what it is God is saying.  Today – we offer to you such a story, and, prayerfully, you will hear in it the word of God for you this day.  It is the story called “Crumbs From the Table.”   Relax and listen. 
 
Matthew
She didn't belong there.  I knew it and the rest of us knew it.  We were just sitting down to dinner when she barged in. The dogs woke up immediately and from their place under the table they began to bark.  One of the children started to cry as the woman frantically looked around the room.  I was startled and I stood up immediately. I could feel myself beginning to get angry as I looked at this disheveled and dirty woman.  John and James, who had been sitting near the door had leapt up at the same time I had - and they were already reaching out to stop from the woman from coming closer to the table when she spotted the master. 
 
Woman
"Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!  My daughter is sick.  She is suffering terribly from demon possession..."
 
Matthew
The master must of heard her over the noise of the two dogs and the child, but he never said a word.  He didn't even look up from his plate.  By this time not only John and James, but I and three others had surrounded the woman and we began to hustle her out the door.  She was interrupting not only our meal, but the time that Jesus had specially set aside for teaching us about the Kingdom he was going to establish.  We had no intention of letting her get in the way of that.  The woman struggled a bit, but she didn't have a chance.  Hauling nets gives a person a lot of strength, and she was outnumbered.  We got her outside even more quickly than a bouncer gets a drunk out of a tavern.  But let me tell you, once outside, she caused just as much trouble as a drunk does. 
 
She was loud and insistent. She tried to get by us and to get back inside. She kept on saying to us that she had to see the miracle worker, that her daughter was in terrible shape,  that she needed help.  She must of clutched at and grabbed each and every one of us as she pleaded.  I tell you, she was a real pain.  I just wanted to get back inside for dinner. James tried to reason with her.    
 
James
"Look, you have no right to be here.  You've got no right to bother the teacher.  You are a foreigner, you don't believe in anything we believe in, your people    are gentiles, they are heathens, and your behavior shows that you are too.  There is no way the master is going to help you, so please go away." 
 
Woman
"I've got to see him, I know he can help me.  He has done so much for others." 
 
James
"That may be, but he's not going to do anything for you. You are not only a woman, you are a Canaanite, You don't go to the synagogue, You don't obey the law of Moses, you are unclean, you eat forbidden food.  To make matters worse, you have absolutely no respect.  Jesus is trying to eat. He is a guest in another man's home, and this is supposed to be a special time for us all, and you just barge in and start demanding help!  Listen!  Please!  Go away!  You are not going to get help here." 
 
Matthew
You know what she did?    That wretched woman just shook her head and said:
 
Woman
"I know he will help me, he's got to help me!" 
 
John 
"Look, go away.  We've told you that you’re not welcome here.  We've told you that Jesus isn't going to have anything to do with your type.  So why don't you just get lost." 
 
Matthew
I tell you she was a crazy woman.  She didn't know her place, that's for sure. The more we said to her, the louder and more persistent she was. She cried, she begged, she screamed.  There was no reasoning with her. After a few minutes of this I got the idea of asking Jesus to tell her to go away. I figured that if he said something to her she'd get the picture and stop her infernal racket.  I mentioned the idea to a couple of the others and they agreed that it was the only thing to do if we were going to have any peace.  As soon as I opened the door to go in the dogs began barking again.  Someone hissed at them to be quiet as I went over to Jesus.  He was sitting with the child who had cried earlier and eating and talking with our host.  Our host looked a little embarrassed.  He was trying to pretend that nothing was going on - but the woman was standing just outside the open door where my two mates were waiting for the word and the noise level was none too low.  "
 
Matthew
Excuse me, could you please tell that woman to go away.  She is really pestering us with all her crying and carrying on."  Jesus looked at his host, then at me, and said –
 
Jesus
"I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel."
 
Matthew
I tell you, Jesus was really frustrating at times. He never seemed to give a straight answer to a simple question.   But even so, this time he was backing us up.  It was like he had heard everything we had said to the woman, so I turned to tell the wretched woman that the master had told her to go away.  Just as I was turning around, she squeezed by the guys at the door and ran over to right beside the master, and fell on down on her knees at his feet.   
 
Woman
"Lord, help me.”
 
Matthew
I didn't do a thing. I was tired. I figured after what he had said Jesus would handle it just fine.  And he did.  Jesus looked at her at his feet.  She bowed her head and looked down. Then he looked around the room for a moment.  The child beside him was busy eating a piece of bread as if nothing untoward had happened. The dogs were nuzzling around under the table.  Our host was staring at him, no doubt wondering what Jesus was going to do to get rid of this problem. John and James and the others were all inside by this point. They were still standing, waiting to see if they were going to be needed again.  It became very quiet in the room as the master looked around - the only sounds were those of the flies and of the child eating.  Then Jesus looked down at the woman and said to her        
 
Jesus
"It is not right to take the children's bread and to toss it to their dogs."
 
Matthew
A couple of the disciples smiled.   I must confess that I grinned too. It was such a well-turned phrase.  The kind that only Jesus seemed to be able to come up with.  It made the point well. As far as I was concerned, it certainly disposed of her and all of her kind.  I caught James looking at me and began to nod my head at him.  As I did so the woman looked up at Jesus and stared him in the eyes. 
 
Woman – (with a calm and clear voice, and a little smile on her face)
"Yes Lord" "Yes Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table."
 
Matthew
I was stunned.  The woman really was too much. Lippy, rude, obnoxious, unclean, disrespectful, I could go on!  Anyway - do you know what Jesus did?  He smiled at her, as if it was all some great contest of wits and he said to her:
 
Jesus       
"Woman, you have great faith, For your reply, your request is granted.  Go home, you daughter is  healed."
 
Matthew
I just could not understand it.   I mean why in the world did Jesus do that? She did not belong there. She was not one of us.  She was nothing but a Canaanite Jesus knew it, I knew it, and the rest of us knew it. I just don't understand Jesus sometimes.   I just don't understand, and so this is my prayer…
 
Holy God, help us to understand.  Loving Lord, help us to understand that there is not one of us who deserves even the crumbs that fall from Your table -- yet you grant to us all: Jew and Gentile - young and old - rich and poor - black white   sinner and saint - the bread of life. Loving God, help us to not only understand, but to pass your love on to others.  Give us eyes to see you, ears to hear you, hearts to love you, lips to proclaim you, and hands to serve you.

By Pastor Tracey Leslie
Scripture:  Mark 2:1-12

A few years back I watched a special on the history channel on FDR.  Prior to the show, I didn’t know much about Roosevelt other than what I’d learned in school.  The show, however, delved deeply into his personal life.  One of the most astonishing things about the show related to Roosevelt’s polio.  It indicated that, during his presidency – and particularly during his presidential campaign – very few people were aware of his physical disability.  For me, growing up during a period of American history during which great emphasis was placed on equal rights, I would have never imagined that a physical handicap would have provoked public disgust and personal embarrassment just a few decades earlier.  I was appalled to learn that at whistle stops on the campaign trail, the presence of FDR’s son so close to his side served the purpose of steadying the presidential hopeful on his feet.  His son later recounted that, some days his father’s legs were so weak that the grip of his hand left bruises on his son’s arm and that it took tremendous self-composure on the part of his son not to betray on his own face the pain he felt from his father’s iron-clad grip.  But, I guess that was the price to be paid in a culture where Roosevelt’s polio-weakened legs would have resulted in a judgment that he was unfit for the office of president.
 
I’ve started my sermon with that FDR story because I want us to be aware – as we begin to examine this morning’s gospel story – that physical infirmities and the way in which they are socially interpreted varies a great deal from one culture to another and from one generation to another.  And among those who know these bible stories well, we may be tempted to neglect or overlook how these healing stories would have been understood by the early followers of Jesus.
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Now the topic of “sin” is prominent in this story.  Jesus is the one who introduces it.  But we need to know a little bit about the thinking of people who lived in Jesus’ time in order to get a better understanding of what’s going on here.  In the culture in which Jesus lived, people assumed that various sicknesses or disabilities were the direct result of sin.  In other words, people believed that things like blindness or paralysis were God’s punishment for human sin; the sin of the individual or the sin of their parents.  Questions about the relationship of sin and suffering stretch back over millennia and, in truth, the bible provides varying explanations for human sickness and suffering.  Yet in this morning’s story, Jesus does not say that sickness is – or isn’t – the result of human sin.  Jesus doesn’t even say that this man’s sickness was – or wasn’t – caused by sin.  But Jesus would have known that the people in the crowd that day – from the everyday folks to the religious leaders – would make that assumption.  That’s where their minds would naturally go.

And so, we need to acknowledge the cultural distance or distinction between those ancient people and us.  As modern Americans, we don’t consider sickness God’s punishment for someone’s sin (at least I hope we don’t). 

But what we do share in common with these ancient people is the recognition that sin is something that gets in the way of our relationship with God; and sin also impacts our relationships with others.  Sin can be a barrier or obstacle that puts a wedge between us and God.  And although our sins don’t result in physical paralysis, often our sins and the results of those sins can create spiritual, emotional or social paralysis.  Broken relationships, relentless shame, resentment, envy... those are all things that can stop us in our tracks and prevent us from standing up and moving forward with our lives and living out God’s purpose for our lives.  The word we translate “sin” in this morning’s story (and in most places in the New Testament) is a word that means, literally, “to miss the mark.”  James and Evelyn Whitehead[i] write of guilt as the natural result of our “missing the mark,” especially in our relationships.  So, healthy guilt increases self-awareness and inspires us to change and make amends.  But sometimes when we “miss the mark” our sense of guilt becomes crippling and diverts our energy away from healing and mending and redirects it toward an unhealthy mental self-flagellation. 

Sin is something that can spiritually, emotionally and socially cripple us; holding us down and holding us captive.

The man in this gospel story would have been judged by his culture as being a sinner; one whose presumed sin had led to physical paralysis and whose paralysis had led to shame.  And so it should not surprise us that Jesus pronounces God’s forgiveness.  In Jesus’ culture, this man’s physical symptoms were secondary.  Of primary concern was his devalued state of existence.  His paralysis stripped him of his honorable position in his family and his village; it robbed him of his ability to interact in socially appropriate and meaningful ways with his family and his neighbors.  And so, when Jesus pronounces this man forgiven, Jesus declares in the midst of the crowd that this man is acceptable to God and worthy of God’s grace.  Jesus has the power and authority to bestow God’s grace and forgiveness.  When this man stands up, rolls up his mat, and heads for home under the power of his own two legs that is not so much the healing as it is the sign or evidence of the healing.  And notice that Jesus tells him, very specifically, “go to your home.”  The word used here means more than a physical structure; it refers to a household; it is a relational word. 

You see; an assumption that poses a danger to us in interpreting this story is this temptation to focus on the man’s physical state – once lying on a mat and now standing up and walking.  Yet, of greatest significance is the fact that this man is now restored to a right relationship with God and with his family and community.  The man standing and walking becomes a clear and visible sign to the crowd that what Jesus said – “Son, your sins are forgiven” – was true and credible.  And do notice that Jesus addresses this man as “son”; a title of intimacy, a title of honor.  The crowd likely labeled this man as a sinner worthy of God’s punishment.  This guy was not a child of Abraham; he was a sinner.  But Jesus proclaims this man to be one of God’s children, a worthy recipient of God’s forgiveness and grace.
My friends: the good news of Mark’s gospel is this:  that there isn’t any sin or failing in our lives that is stronger than the healing, liberating power of Jesus.  There is nothing that Jesus’ saving grace and forgiveness can’t overcome.  Jesus and his saving grace can set us free from the things in our lives that confine us and hold us down.  There should not be anything standing in the way of you living out God’s purpose for your life; of fulfilling God’s call over your life.

There is another little bit of cultural trivia here.  In the time of Jesus, people associated particular parts of the body with ways of relating to the world.  People’s legs and arms, their hands and feet, were associated with the ability to carry out ones purpose or intent.  In other words, they would have interpreted someone who suffered physical paralysis as being unable to fulfill God’s purpose or intent for their lives.  Now again, we don’t think in those kinds of primitive ways today.  But, if we interpret this story in a more symbolic way, sometimes we do suffer from a spiritual or emotional paralysis.  We allow sin and the guilt and regret and the sense of failure it creates within us to hold us down and take us captive; it paralyzes us and prevents us from living out God’s purpose for our lives.  And so, if you are feeling like that this morning… if you have felt as if some past sin or some weakness that you struggle with has paralyzed you and is preventing you from pursuing God’s purpose for your life, then let me tell you, it’s time to stand up and move on.  God does not want you paralyzed, held down, by anything that is “sickening” your mind or spirit.  Whatever it may be that’s been holding you down and holding you captive is not and cannot ever be as powerful as the forgiving grace of Jesus.  When we come into the presence of Jesus, he is ready to heal us and to forgive us.  There is no sin, no shortcoming, no failure that Jesus’ power and grace cannot overcome.

And here’s one final thing about this story… If you are so fortunate as to have already received and experienced Jesus’ transformative grace and to be living out his purpose for your life, then you need to be bringing others into the healing presence of Jesus.  Let me tell you that the friends of this paralyzed man are unsung heroes in this story who rarely receive much attention.  Think about it: their culture had taught them that this man was a sinner who’d done this to himself.  And let’s face it; when we indulge ourselves in the belief that people bring on their own problems, it can be very comforting and reassuring.  Even today, religion will sometimes try to convince us that we have far more control over our good fortune than reality bears out.  But this guy’s friends aren’t about to ditch him.  They dug their way through somebody’s roof for crying out loud.  I mean, wouldn’t it be awesome if all of us cared so much for those who our culture deems “sinners” that we’d even jeopardize our own reputations and respectability just to get them into the healing presence of Jesus.  These friends cared so much about this guy they were willing and ready to do all kinds of crazy stuff to get him connected to the healing, liberating power of Jesus. 

Jesus’ desire for us and his word to us is forgiveness.  Jesus wants us all to know that we are God’s sons and daughters.  It is the grace and forgiveness of Jesus that overpowers those things in this world that threaten us and paralyze us.  God has a purpose for your life; he offers you forgiveness and he names you as his child.    

[i] Transforming Our Painful Emotions by Evelyn Eaton Whitehead and James D. Whitehead; Orbis books; 2010; chapter 7.