Tag Archives: healing

shut up

Posted on by
Reply

My parents never let us say “shut up.” At one point in our history, one of us three would say “shut up…your mouth” as a way to avoid the inevitable look of disapproval.

“Shut up” is pretty much what a crowd of people was saying to two men who couldn’t see.

The men were by a road. They were likely begging, asking the people walking by for money. This day, they heard a crowd coming. They asked what was happening. They found out that Jesus was at the head of the crowd.

The men called out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

For guys who are begging crying out would have been pretty common. This was pretty focused crying out however. It would have been passionate. It would have pierced through the conversations going on around Jesus.

He was, after all, the only hope they had.

And the people in the crowd surrounding Jesus told the men to shut up.

I don’t know why. It may have been because they (the crowd) were afraid this hollering would spoil the reputation of the town (the chamber of commerce theory). It may have been because they wanted to hear Jesus themselves (the selfish theory).

What I do know is that it still happens. Crowds of seemingly religious people, looking like they are following Jesus, are telling people who need his help to shut up.

“You wouldn’t fit in our church.” “That’s my seat.” “I need quiet and space to hear from Jesus and so we need to keep the (pick one) crying babies, wheezing old people, wheelchairs, organists, drummers, imperfect people, perfect people, left, right, those people quiet.”

In this case, the two men kept shouting. Jesus healed them. They joined the crowd. Following Jesus.

I’m glad.

And I’m convicted.

Careless words

Posted on by
1

Jesus healed a man who couldn’t see and couldn’t speak.

He condemns some men who could.

The former had a demon, an evil spirit, an agent of satan.

The latter accused Jesus of working for satan.

The former caused people to begin to ask serious, thoughtful questions about the identity of Jesus, about his role in the lineage of David.

The latter caused people to wonder.

(By the way, this contrast of the man who couldn’t speak and the men who shouldn’t is in Matthew 12. The short version? A man had a demon that kept him from seeing and speaking. Jesus healed him. The people were impressed. The Pharisees said that the devil made him do it.)

Jesus takes issue with the reaction of the group of men who reacted to the healing. They were religious leaders. They talked among themselves. They made a sarcastic, dismissive comment. But Jesus overheard their thoughts and did what any self-respecting rabbi would do in response to unsound reasoning.

He destroyed it.

He identified the logical inconsistencies in their claim. He made it impossible for them to cling to their statement without condemning their colleagues who had done the same thing Jesus had. He summarized demon-removal theory. He said that actions prove the nature of the actor, words prove the nature of the speaker. He made a very large deal out of their comment.

And then he summarizes his teaching this way:

“But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken.”

Oh my. Every careless word? Every smart comment? Each of every three hundred words?

Oh. Then there is this difficulty. When Jesus starts teaching, he starts because he knew their thoughts.

Every careless.

We are called to be careful.

quietly on purpose

Posted on by
2

“How come Jesus told people not to talk about how he healed them?”

That’s a great question. It’s a question that someone asked me recently. It’s a question that I’ve wondered about and have made up answers to and have never really looked at.

Until just now.

It wasn’t because I was actually doing the research to answer the question. That would be too wise, too intentional. (It is a good principle, however. When someone asks a question about what something in the Bible means, consider actually looking in the Bible).

No, I was just moving through Matthew, the way I have been doing here, and I read “warning them not to tell who he was. This was to fulfill…” (Matthew 12:15-21).

As I read the “fulfill” part, which is a quotation from the prophecy of Isaiah, it was describing the ministry of someone who would work quietly, work gently with hurting people, who would not drive down the street with an loud amplifier.

Now, here’s the interesting thing: at the same time he’s proclaiming justice, no one will hear his voice in the streets.

It’s an interesting thought. Maybe he will be showing justice. Maybe he will be living justice. Maybe he will, with the touch of his hand and a quiet voice, bring hope and healing.

Maybe those of use following him can follow that model, living justly, whispering hope, offering healing with gentle words that will not destroy those already bruised and burned. Maybe, in fact, following is working around the edges looking for the bruised, the burned, the breaking. Maybe following is seeking out. Maybe following is being in the streets gathering pieces of broken hurt and mending them until justice is gently led to victory.

Maybe following means, or at least includes, living quietly on purpose.

looking for a reason

Posted on by
Reply

Sometimes you have conversations that are conversations. Sometimes questions are asked for the purpose of finding out the answer.

“How is it with your soul?” is a question seeking an answer, trying to help someone else reflect.

“What is the question you don’t want me to ask?” is a question about trust, about helping someone discern what is going on in their heart.

“Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?” is a research kind of question. It could lead to a wonderful reflection on what sabbath really means, about what is restful, about the line between restorative activity and work.

Jesus goes that direction, using very clear comparative legal reasoning. “You’ll take care of a sheep. A man is worth more than a sheep. Therefore taking care of a man is acceptable.”

It is clear and accurate…and wasted.

They didn’t care at all about the answer. They cared about trapping Jesus, about finding a reason to kill him.

They asked the question knowing that the better his answer, the more wrong he would be. And he knew that the better his answer was, the more in trouble he would be.

And he didn’t back down. They asked. He answered truthfully and skillfully and then he healed the man. Because for Jesus, this was not an abstract conversation about theology. This was about a man with a hand that needed to be fixed.

——–

Join me in the mirror for a moment for some more questions:

1. When you know someone has argumentative questions, do you answer or avoid?

2. Is your answer adequate or technically brilliant?

3. Are you more about winning the argument or healing the person that is being used as bait?

4. For the sake of a person, will you risk everything?

Jesus wasn’t looking for a reason. He had one.

into the house

Posted on by
1

Two blind guys knew Jesus healed blind guys. They followed him. They called to him, “have mercy on us.”

We don’t know how far the followed him. We don’t know where they started following him. We know that they were with him after he left the house of the formerly dead daughter. Whether they had been with him before that is not mentioned.

They were, however, following him. They were blind. They were asking him to have mercy on them.

Here’s a wonderful picture of the early stages of following Jesus for many people. Before he has done anything for them, they are aware that something is happening with other people and they are aware they need help.

I had thought about saying, “they see that something is happening” but, of course, these two blind men couldn’t see.

Jesus goes into a house. The two guys follow him.

They are serious about getting help. They are willing to enter someone else’s house. They are willing to be rude. They want to see.

And that’s where I often fall short. I am following, I am keeping up with Jesus, but then I have to take a next step to talk to him about what I need. I need to feel exposed. I need to not defer to everyone else. I need to go boldly into where he is sitting.

Suddenly, what had been shouting becomes a conversation.

“Do you believe I can do this?” Jesus asks.

“Yes, Lord,” they reply.

Simple, clear, respectful. Jesus asks and they answer the question he asks.

And so, he touches them, refers to their faith, and they can see.

I wonder if I miss healing, of eyes, perhaps, but certainly of heart, because I don’t go into the house and listen. And then say yes.