Rise

"And when Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that He was at home. And many were gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door. And He was preaching the word to them. And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. And when they could not get near Him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above Him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. And when Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven." Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, "Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" And immediately Jesus, perceiving in His spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them, "Why do you question these things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise, take up your bed, and walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"--He said to the paralytic--"I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home." And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, "We never saw anything like this!""

This story is recorded in the Gospel of Mark in chapter 2, verses 1-12. I've been hovering around the Gospel of Mark a lot over the last few months, and yesterday I came across this story that I've read many times before, and the Holy Spirit opened up my eyes to something I'd missed in the interactions in the last four verses (beginning with "And immediately Jesus..."). Leading up to this verse, it seems to me that the core interaction has been between Jesus and the crowd, specifically the four men who are carrying the paralytic. Mark describes the great lengths that these men go to to get their friend in to this room to see Jesus, and also notes that Jesus recognized their faith. Then, because of the faith of his friends, Jesus says to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."

At this point in the story, the scribes are brought into play. Upon hearing Jesus' words to the paralytic, they start to question in their hearts who this man thinks He is to say He can forgive sins? That is something only God can do!

And then, we get to the final interactions of the text: those between Christ and the scribes and between Christ and the paralytic.

"And immediately Jesus, perceiving in His spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them, "Why do you question these things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise, take up your bed, and walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"--He said to the paralytic--"I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home." And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, "We never saw anything like this!""

What astonished me about this story was the interaction between Christ and the paralytic, and the huge stakes dependent on it. When Jesus perceives that the scribes are doubting Him, He doesn't bring down fire from heaven on them; He doesn't call on angels to just take Him away from these doubting creatures; no, He does something equally incredible. He turns to the paralytic. He says to the scribes, "Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise, take up your bed, and walk'? But that you man know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgiven sins"--He said to the paralytic--"I say to you, Rise, pick up your bed, and go home."

Whoa whoa whoa. Do you see what happens here? All of a sudden, this is between Christ and the paralytic. This is Christ extending a huge offer of grace to this paralytic--but there's a catch. The paralytic must have the faith to believe in Christ. Sure, Christ has seen the faith of the paralytic's friends, which is what prompted Christ's "scandalous" forgiveness of the paralytic's sin in the first place. But now, Christ turns to this man and says, "Rise, pick up your bed, and go home." Do you notice that there is no mention of Jesus offering a hand out to this paralytic? This is Christ, vulnerable and humble, probing to see if this paralytic will demonstrate the same kind of faith that his friends did. And what is even more astounding is what is at risk if this paralytic does not have faith in Christ. If the paralytic stands up and walks, it is proof of Jesus' divinity and His ability to forgive sins; if, however, the paralytic does not stand up, it completely undermines Christ's authority to forgive sins. If I had been Christ, I think I would've reached a hand out to this man, made sure that what I had invested my evidence in would come through. But that's not how Christ works. No, Christ always gives us free will to answer His calling with obedience in faith, or to ignore His calling with disobedience because of disbelief. This paralytic could have thought, "Yeah, who is this Christ to say that my sins are forgiven? I don't think He can do that any more than He can heal my paralysis" or "As much as I want to believe that this Christ can heal me, all I've lived with my whole life is paralysis, and I can't fathom my life different from that; it's too good to be true."

And yet, this is what it comes down to. At this point, after Christ's stunning instruction (and invitation, even) to the paralytic to Rise, the story quiets in my mind. Christ has opened up the path to freedom, the path to healing, the path to Himself--now He waits to see the paralytic's response. Christ is looking at the paralytic, the paralytic is looking at Christ--it's just the two of them.

And then:

"The paralytic rose and immediately picked up his bed and went home."

What a breathtaking climax! Because of his faith, the paralytic has walked, and in the process, has given one of the most beautiful defenses or proofs for Christ's deity that will ever be given--"they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, 'We never saw anything like this!'"

Now, this practically convicted me in a few ways. First of all, I was reminded that we never know who is watching when God calls us to take leaps of faith. Obviously, the paralytic knew that the scribes and everyone else were watching to see if Jesus' claim to be able to forgive sins was true, but in our case, it's usually not that blatant. Hand in hand with that, I also remembered that faith is hard. I mean, the idea of walking to this man was inconceivable. He knew that some people walked, he knew that some people's legs worked, he knew that it was possible--but it had never been possible for him. And yet, I was reminded, too, of the overwhelming compassion and power of Christ. Compassion, in that He offered this man such life and freedom, literally, to do things he had never done before. Power, in that He actually did it. But only once the man took the "step."

I see myself in this man so much. I look at Christ's calling for my life--even, for example, the call to go to Hungary--and I think, "This is impossible. There's no way I can do this. I've never done anything like this before. I know other people can do it, but there's no way I can. I wasn't made for it." And yet, as we all know, every human was made to walk--that is the purpose of our legs. And just because our legs are crippled, doesn't mean the ultimate purpose of walking isn't still present. In the same way, every believer is made to live in the will of God, following His purpose. Just because fear, doubt, anxiety, or any number of other sins sometimes can cripple us, doesn't mean that that is how we are supposed to live. "For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." [Gal. 5:1] We have been offered life, and that abundantly--will we take it?

A few chapters later in the book of Mark, Jesus raises a little girl from the dead with the words, "Talitha cumi," which mean, "Little girl, arise." My prayer request would be that when I hear the Lord say to me, "Talitha cumi," I would rise.

What are you seeking?

Yesterday I was at a coffee shop and I noticed a man's computer next to me. He was looking at Craigslist, and the moment I glanced over, I saw a picture of a woman, with the words "45-year old woman seeking soul mate" next to the picture. The man was older, possibly homeless, and before I had seen his computer, my selfish heart had wanted to avoid talking to him, thinking it would be uncomfortable and awkward. But at that moment, my heart broke for him, and for my selfish response to him.

We all, whether we admit it or not, are seeking something, whether it be a relationship, a job, a family, exciting experiences, fame, etc. I imagined what my life would be like if I were in his shoes: older, on the poorer side, alone. I imagine I would be seeking the same things. But even if that is to be my life--even if I am to grow old, and be poor, and be single--I know and am in love with Someone who can make all those things "loss"--Christ. Who knows? Maybe that is the life God is calling me to, and if it is, it is His best for me, as it is His best for this man that I met at the coffee shop.

I did end up talking to the man, and he seemed to have some understanding of Christianity, if it was slightly confused. But my interaction with him made me realize two things. First, it was another example of something God has been showing me lately; namely, that we are called to love everyone. Obvious, I know. But I've recognized recently how much I judge people. And yet, this man needs and is seeking the exact same thing I need and am seeking--an unconditional Love that will be there to protect, to defend, to honor, to encourage, to uplift, to carry, to die for, to save me. Maybe he's looking in the wrong place, but he knows he needs it. And I know where he can find it--in Jesus Christ. Who am I to judge people who demonstrate the exact same yearning and desire and need for love that I so desperately need? All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and all of us need God's grace to bring us back to Him.

I also was reminded of the futility of seeking anything apart from Christ. I recently finished reading the book Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis and this quote from the end of the book really puts into words what I witnessed to be true yesterday:

The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life. Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.

It is so easy for me to seek Christ as a means to an end--to get rid of shameful sin, to look good among my peers, to feel "good" about myself. But, as I was reminded yesterday in Charles Spurgeon's All of Grace, Jesus came to justify the ungodly. What a thought! Not only is it possible for Christ to save the ungodly, it is exclusive that He does so. He only comes to save those that recognize their sinfulness and need for a Savior. He is not just anyone to be used and tossed aside after I've gotten what I want from Him. He is the Sovereign King of the Universe who humbled Himself to become a human (as C.S. Lewis said, imagine agreeing to become a slug, and you might understand what it meant that Christ agreed to become human) so that He could save those who recognize they are so absolutely unworthy of being saved (which, in a paradoxical way, is the only thing that does in fact "qualify" them to be saved). I want to set myself toward following Him, not toward following the petty desires that may lead me to Him to the extent that I believe He can help me satisfy those desires. Because He will not make an idolater out of me; He will not let me follow Himself just to get to something else. He is determined to make me perfect, and to break me of whatever I am enslaved to so that He can reveal to me His original, fantastic purpose for my life, for my soul--the person He intended and still intends to present before the Father.

So, my prayer would be twofold. First of all, I need prayer for God to replace my judgmental heart with one that is gracious and loving, and that I would be humbled to serve His creatures as He has served me. Secondly, my prayer is that during my time in Hungary, I would stay my heart on Christ and nothing else. That I would ask for Christ, and be answered by Him. That I would seek for Christ, and I would find Him. And that I would knock at His doors, and be welcomed in.

Men as Trees, Walking

As many of you know, Martyn Lloyd Jones' book Spiritual Depression is one of my favorite, if not my absolute favorite, Christian book. As I have been praying and thinking through my upcoming time in Hungary, I found myself returning to chapter 3 in this book, which examines the story of Jesus' healing of a blind man in Mark 8. However, this is no ordinary miracle (if such a thing can be said to exist)--Jesus' method in healing this particular man is very unique. Here is the story:

And they came to Bethsaida. And some people brought to Him a blind man and begged Him to touch him. And He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when He had spit on his eyes and laid His hands on him, He asked him, 'Do you see anything?' And he looked up and said, 'I see men, but they look like trees, walking.' Then Jesus laid His hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly (Mark 8:22-25).

Now, before reading Spiritual Depression, I probably would've just skimmed over this story without giving much thought to it. However, according to Mr. Lloyd-Jones, this would be a foolish mistake (as, I'm sure, skimming over any Biblical story is foolish). Lloyd Jones writes, "There are many people like this man, there are many people who seem to be in the first stage through which this man passed in the process of healing...Do you understand his position? It is difficult to describe this man. You cannot say that he is blind any longer. You cannot say that he is still blind because he does see; and yet you hesitate to say that he can see because he sees men as trees, walking. What then--is he or is he not blind?"

Good question. As Lloyd-Jones continues, he further elaborates on this blind and yet not blind position as applied to us today: "Having seen the emptiness of the world, having seen something of the life lived by certain Christians, and having realized that Jesus Christ is the One Who has made the difference, they see somehow that He is a Savior...these people have seen that they cannot save themselves." This seems great, right? Well, kind of. Recognizing that we cannot save ourselves, that we need a Savior, does not necessarily entail that we know that Christ is the only Way to be saved and to have true happiness, and why this is the case.

I read this, and, probably as many of you did, thought to myself, "Okay, well great. But this is not my problem. I know that Christ is not only a Savior, but the Savior, and I know why it is He had to die for me, etc." But then Lloyd Jones went on to give another two ways that Christians can be in this blind and yet not blind position, and I was deeply convicted--"The second thing they do not see clearly is that their heart is not fully engaged. Though they are able to see many things, they do not really find their happiness in Christianity and in the Christian position. Somehow or another they are not moved by it, they do not find real joy in it...they still seem to find their joy, as far as they have any, somewhere else; their heart is not fully engaged."

Whoa. Talk about humbling. As I reeled with conviction, I was slightly hesitant to read on. But, of course, I did, and came across yet another staggering statement: "The third thing that is true about the people under discussion is that their will is divided. They are rebellious, they do not see why a man, because he calls himself a Christian, has got to do certain things and stop doing others. They think that is being narrow. Yet they denounce the old life and embrace the Christian life in general." Gosh.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering how this all relates to Hungary. Well, as I was thinking about Hungary, I realized that I think I have a distorted vision of Christ that has led to my having the less-than-fully-engaged heart and divided will that Martyn Lloyd Jones writes about. I'm not entirely sure how or to what extent I have this vision, but, if I knew that, I probably wouldn't be having this problem :) But, I believe that God intends to heal me of this distorted vision in my semester at Bible college :)

My prayer request, then, is for a full(er) view of God. I want to see Christ in all of His magnificent glory. And while I realize that this is a life-long process, I believe that, at least in some area, God intends to remove the shades from my eyes and give me a glimpse of His glory, unimpeded and uninhibited by my presuppositions or sins or flesh. And, along with that, I ask for a fully engaged heart and a will united with and under God's, that when "infinite joy is offered," I would not respond like "an ignorant child" content making "mud pies," but would leave everything, even my little pile of mud, for Christ (C.S. Lewis).