“WHAT IS EASIER?”
Scripture Lesson: Mark 2: 1-12
Dr. Matthew S. Brown
O, we know about wanting
something. The item
for which we’d stand in line for hours in the rain. That car, that guy, that girl, that concert,
that game, that job for which we’d drive across the country, climb mountains,
ford rivers, sleep in our cars, survive on convenience store crackers and
Mountain Dew. O, we know about wanting
something.
Desire. Longing. Yearning. Craving. What was
it? You counted your pennies, you begged
your parents, you worked extra hours stocking shelves
at the grocery store. What was the
object of your quest?
Think about the Olympic
athletes who seemingly come out of nowhere every four years. Daily practices before dawn. Dietary exile from Pizza
Hut. A nasty
divorce from Ben and Jerry. Hour
after hour after hour, year after year after year on the skates, sleds, or
skis. Enduring the
cold. Fighting
through the injuries. Ignoring the pain. Moving the family from state to state in search of the best coach. Moving the family from
country to country in search of the best competition. All this for a medal that
looks more like a CD and an interview with Katie on the Today show. O, we know about wanting something.
But what about those times
when you have wanted something for someone else. Fleetingly, the camera focuses on the stands
where the Olympian’s parents sit overwrought with anxiety, beaming with
pride. Did you see the shot of the
former Olympian medalist, Sheila Young, shielding her face with cardboard
because she couldn’t bear to watch the start of her daughter’s Olympic moment?
Have you ever wanted
something so bad for someone? You’d do
anything, go anywhere, pay any cost, expend all energy so that person could
reach their goal or maybe restore their health.
I remember going to visit a
young college student at the
I guess I could have
introduced myself as Phil from X-ray, but I remember fumbling through my wallet
for a business card, a scripture, a photo of a steeple, anything that would
validate my presence there.
The young, intense, and
suspicious students knew they could do nothing to exorcise the dark mass in
their friend’s chest, but they could do this.
They would skip class, they would hold vigil, they would pray, they
would protect. Have you ever wanted
something so bad for someone?
A friend could not walk. What was it that had taken the life out of
his limbs? Was it a fall, the freak
result of an awkward landing in a minor accident? What was life like before? Was he an athlete, a stonemason, a
messenger? Did he like to dance?
You can imagine his friend
wincing from the pain of guilt when he passed his house each morning on his
return from a glorious sunrise walk on the
Is there someone for whom
you’d be willing to dig through the roof?
“Then some people came,
bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus
because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug
through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay.”
Now, I’ve had sermons
accompanied by the sights and sounds of cell-phones playing La Bamba, infants
crying for brunch, people rushing to rid themselves of their morning coffee,
birds flying from a balcony toward the organ pipes, and even a set of twins who
discovered that the slick wood of a pew was a perfect spot for pew surfing, but
I’ve never had a worship service interrupted by someone digging a whole through
the roof to get in. These folks must not
have been regular churchgoers, because everybody knows there’s always room on
the front row!
Yet, as the gathered
congregants coughed and vainly waved at the falling dust and thatch, Jesus says
something utterly astounding: “Son, your
sins are forgiven.”
Clearly, a healing takes
place in that little house church as the one who could not walk can now lead
the dance. But it is evident that Jesus
believes there is a greater miracle taking place. The strengthening of lifeless legs is a cause
for celebration, but mercy is the headline for this story.
Years later, gathered in a
little house church similar to the place of the encounter of Jesus and the
paralytic, only without the skylight, a gathered group of newly baptized
Christians would hear the first reading of this story in Mark. And they would probably notice some code
words found at the beginning of the text.
elalei autois ton logon - “He spoke the word to
them.”
To us, the words seem rather
unobtrusive, even innocuous. Lord knows
how often we’ve heard preachers wax not so eloquent about “speaking/preaching
the word.”
But as one of my seminary
professors inquired with red ink over that exact phrase, which I had so glibly
included in a sermon,
“What is the word?” For
early Christians the phrase communicated something very specific. The word, very simply was this: Jesus lived, Jesus died in forgiveness of our
sins, Jesus was raised from the dead in victory over sin and death, Jesus
reigns.
And so, at least for Mark’s
first audience, Jesus’ words to the paralytic do not seem awkward or out of
place. Of all that
which ails us, plagues us, paralyzes us, the greatest impediment to our
wholeness is the condition of sin which separates us from the One who created
us specifically for relationship - which means without the intervention of
Jesus, we can’t do what we were actually made to do even if we can dance a jig.
Think about it. On these winter nights we watch these
athletes perform amazing, incomprehensible, Olympian, physical feats - and then
they speak and we catch glimpses of frailty, broken places in their lives,
maybe an arrogance masking profound insecurities - You know the one who claims
he or she doesn’t care what anybody thinks, cares profoundly about what
everybody thinks. You can be a
cardiovascular masterpiece and still be suffering from a bad heart.
Call it irreconciliation of
the heart. Physical healing is a wonder
to behold, but the power of Jesus is manifested in his authority over sin and
all that would separate us from the God who created us and from one another.
We so underestimate the power
of forgiveness. The words of the
Declaration of Pardon are said in worship and we rise with a half-hearted
rendition of the Gloria Patri. We ought
to be emptying our lungs into noisemakers and breaking out the confetti! We ought to be calling our parents and
sending out announcements!
Do we realize what Jesus is
saying? Child, your sins are forgiven,”
or as William Countryman paraphrases, “I love you anyway, no matter what.” Isn’t that a great way of saying it. Jesus, is saying, “I love you not because you are
particularly good - You know, I saw how you hurt that friend in High School; I
was there when you thought no one was looking; I heard the hateful words you
uttered to your spouse.”
Do you hear what Jesus is
saying? “I love you anyway, no matter
what.” It’s not “because you are
particularly repentant nor because I’m trying to bribe you or threaten you into
changing. I love you because I love
you.”
Words from
the Creator to the created, communicated by the only One to bridge the divide.
“Child, your sins are
forgiven.” Do you hear what Jesus is
saying? It should be enough to make a
prim and proper Presbyterian rise up and dance like she’s a contestant on “The Price
is Right.”
And it’s not just a word for
the paralytic. It is a word for the tenacious, industrious friends who brought
him. It is a word for everyone in that
room, even the irascible curmudgeons heckling him from the rear of the
crowd. It is a word for everyone in the
room of Mark’s first church, in the room of this church, in every room and
every place - even the places we would never choose, or be brave enough, or
dumb enough to go. There Jesus is with
the same word. “I love you anyway.” Thanks be to
God.
Amen.
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