Healing
He was despised and avoided by others; a man
who suffered, who knew sickness well. Like someone from whom people hid their
faces, he was despised, and we didn’t think about him. It was certainly our
sickness that he carried, and our sufferings that he bore, but we thought him
afflicted, struck down by God and tormented. He was pierced because of our
rebellions and crushed because of our crimes. He bore the punishment that made
us whole; by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:3-5)
A daughter of a
dying man wrote these heartbreaking words in her journal: "Dad can't tie
his own shoes anymore . . . . Dad can't sign his name anymore. Dad breaks his
collar bone and stops going to work." ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) was
claiming her father's musculature. She documented the awful and painful progress
of the disease. "Dad falls in the parking lot and has to wait on the
ground until someone picks him up . . . . Dad can't have his corn flakes for
breakfast anymore. Dad can't put his arms around us anymore . . . . Dad has
trouble swallowing pureed peas . . . . Dad can't hold his head up
anymore." After seven years of her father's gradual deterioration, she finally
wrote this: "Lying beside Dad as he sits in his chair working for breath.
Praying for peace. Wiping his nose. Rubbing his shoulders . . . . Watching Dad
gaze heavenward and take his last quiet breath . . . . The Lord is our
shepherd." The family selected two Scripture verses for the handout at the
funeral. On one side: "The Lord is my shepherd, and so I lack
nothing." Across from it: "My God! My God! . . . Why have you
forsaken me?"
The first
passage is from Psalm 23, and the other, Psalm 22. I can see both Psalms on the
same page of my Bible, and in times of sickness we can hear both prayers from
the same heart. Our bodies ache and emotions sway. Try as we might to eat
right, sleep more and sweat often, the hounds of wear-and-tear nip at our
heels. Sometimes they can even take a bite. Cancer, heart failure, depression,
dementia. Nothing bends our knees to ask for God's help more than a health
crisis. We need the Lord to shepherd us through sickness. "But will
he?" we quietly question. "Will he?" we verbally demand.
"My God! My God! . . . Why?" We see good, prayerful people wheelchair
bound or disease-ridden. We see salt-of-the-earth folks struck down in their
prime. We see evildoers live into the triple digits. "Have you forsaken me,
God?" How do we explain the why and
when of God's healing? We can begin
in Jericho.
“Now as they
went out of Jericho, a great multitude followed Him. And behold, two blind men
sitting by the road, when they heard that Jesus was passing by, cried out,
saying, ‘Have mercy on us, O Lord, Son of David!’ Then the multitude warned
them that they should be quiet; but they cried out all the more, saying, ‘Have
mercy on us, O Lord, Son of David!’ So Jesus stood still and called them, and
said, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ They said to Him, ‘Lord, that our
eyes may be opened.’ So Jesus had compassion and touched their eyes. And
immediately their eyes received sight, and they followed Him.” (Matt. 20:29-34)
By this time, the
popularity of Jesus was at high tide. Three years of feeding, healing and
teaching had elevated him to rock-star status. The people loved him. He stood
up to the authorities. He commanded cadavers, and he called the shots. He was
blue collared, big hearted and a hometown hero. He was Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Dwight Eisenhower, and Abraham Lincoln all wrapped up in one package.
The crowd was
escorting him to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. They chatted, laughed and
sang happy songs. And then from off to one side, they heard this cry:
"Have mercy on us, O Lord, Son of David!" The crowd turned and looked
at the two blind men. Eyes vacant, robes tattered, faces leathered by the sun.
Pitiful. The people told them to pipe down. This was a victory march, a day of
triumph. Jesus was on an important mission. The people would have left the
blind men on the side of the road.
Sound familiar?
Afflictions can sideline the sufferer. Everyone else has a place in the parade.
You’d be happy to join them if only the tumor would stop growing, or the
atrophy would stop spreading. Others seem happy. You have mood swings as wide as
the Grand Canyon. And you've wondered, What
am I to do with this ailment? Like Mary, the blind men brought their
concern to Jesus: "They cried out all the more, saying, 'Have mercy on us,
O Lord, Son of David!'" They didn't ask for Peter or John. They didn’t request
the disciples or Jesus’ followers. They went straight to the top. They cried
out to Jesus. Persistently, personally, passionately. I need help, Lord. Heal me.
And here’s why
you need to do the same. "Now may God himself, the God of peace, make you
pure, belonging only to him. May your whole self – spirit, soul and body – be kept safe and without fault when
our Lord Jesus Christ comes." (1 Thess. 5:23) God envisions a complete
restoration of the garden of Eden. Everything he saw in his garden was good.
This assessment included Adam and Eve. They weren't sick, crippled, depressed
or afflicted. They were spiritually and physically sound. No emphysema, palsy
or paranoia. Yet when they rebelled, everything fell out of harmony. The event
is called “the Fall” for a reason. Adam and Eve had a falling out with God, and
a falling out with each other. Nature fell out of whack, and the human body
fell out of balance.
The Fall was
exactly that: a fall from wholeness. Sin opened the door, and sickness walked right
on in. "Sin came into the world because of what one man did, and with sin
came death. This is why everyone must die – because everyone sinned."
(Rom. 5:12) Sin and sickness are interlopers, consequences of the same
rebellion. But they’re also cured by the same Redeemer. When Isaiah foretold of
Jesus, he described him as the One who would take both our sin and our sickness. “He was wounded for
our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities.” (53:5) “He has borne
our infirmities and carried our diseases.” (v. 4) Jesus treated our sickness
the same way he treated our sin – He took it away. He bore it in himself on the
cross.
When Matthew saw
the large number of healings in Galilee, he remembered the prophecy of Isaiah:
"[Jesus] fulfilled Isaiah's well-known sermon: He took our illnesses, He
carried our diseases." (Matt. 8:17) Did Jesus die for your sins? Yes. Did
Jesus die for your sicknesses? Yes. It would be inconsistent to say that Jesus
saved your soul but not your body. When Jesus took our sins to the cross, he
took our cancers, disfigurements and depression as well. But if that’s true, then
why do we still get sick? For the same reason we still sin. This is a fallen
world, and the kingdom is a coming kingdom. Sickness and sin still stalk our
planet. But here’s the difference: neither sin nor sickness will have dominion
over God's people. Sin cannot condemn us. Disease cannot destroy us. Guilt is
defanged, and death has lost its sting. In fact, the very sin and sickness that
Satan intends for evil, God redeems for good. Sin becomes a showcase of his
grace. Sickness becomes a demonstration of God's ability to heal.
We aren't
victims of rogue molecules or rebellious cells. We do not live beneath the
specter of uncontrollable plagues or emotions. Every fiber, molecule and brain
wave answers to his command. God is in charge. So if you’re sick, cry out to
Jesus. Talk to him about your stomach, your skin, your moles. After all, he
owns you because you and your body were "bought with a price." (1
Cor. 6:20)
And you need to
do the same thing with your emotions, too. Did someone molest you? Did a spouse
abuse you? Did you abort a baby, or abandon a child? If so, you likely need
inner healing. And he will heal you – instantly, gradually or ultimately. For
instance, one word was enough for him to banish demons, heal epilepsy, and
raise the dead. He only had to speak the word, and healing happened. He may do that
for you. However, in the case of a blind man from Bethsaida, Jesus healed him
in stages. He took him away from the crowd. He rubbed spit on the man's eyes
and asked the man what he saw. The man answered that he saw, but it was kind of
blurry. So, Jesus rubbed them a second time. Jesus healed the man, but he did
so gradually. (Mark 8:22-26) And don't forget the story of Lazarus. After Jesus
heard of the sickness of his close friend, Jesus waited for two days before he
went to help. He let Lazarus die. By the time Jesus reached the cemetery,
Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days. But Jesus called him out. Did Jesus
heal Lazarus? Yes, dramatically, but not immediately. (John 11:1-44)
Our highest
hope, however, is in our ultimate healing.
In heaven God will restore our bodies to their intended splendor. "We know
that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him." (1 John 3:2) God will
turn your tomb into a womb out of which you will be born with a perfect body
into a perfect world. But in the meantime keep praying. “Father, you are good.
I need help. Heal me.” If Jesus heals you instantly, praise him. If you’re still
waiting for healing, trust him. Your suffering may be your very own sermon.
Have you prayed
but you’re still waiting for Jesus to heal you? Take courage and hope from
Jesus' response to the blind men. "Have mercy on us, O Lord," they
cried. "Jesus stood still." He stopped dead in his tracks. Everyone
else kept going, but Jesus froze. Something caught his attention. Something
interrupted his journey. You can almost see him raising his hand to stop the
people, lifting a finger to his lips for them to be quiet. "Shhhh."
What was it? What did Jesus hear? A prayer. An unembellished appeal for help,
floating across the path on the winds of faith and landing against his ear.
Jesus heard the words and stopped. He still does. And he still asks, "What
do you want me to do for you?" The duo in Jericho told him. "Lord,
that our eyes may be opened," they said.
And you? Lord, heal this heart condition. Remove this arthritis. Restore my hearing. Jesus' heart went
out to the blind men. He "had compassion and touched their eyes." The
Greek term means "he felt for them deep inside his stomach (gut)."
Jesus moved in where others had stepped away. He healed them. And he will heal
you, too. I pray he heals you instantly, but he may choose to heal you
gradually. But this much is sure: Jesus will heal all of us – ultimately.
Wheelchairs, ointments, treatments and bandages are confiscated at heaven’s
gateway because He’s the great physician. (Ex. 15:26)
Grace,
Randy
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