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.