Our Lord was at home, just trying to get a little rest and relaxation. But the people just kept coming. According to Mark 2:1-12, Jesus’ house was full, standing room only, everyone hanging on His every word. Suddenly a hole is torn-out in the roof, debris comes raining down. People squint looking up into the sunlight now streaming in through the roof. It’s was probably hard to tell at first, but coming through the hole in the roof was what appeared to be a cot with a paralyzed man. Four men are lowering the cot down right in front of the Lord. Given this dramatic entrance, I’m sure all those many onlookers eagerly anticipated what would happen next. Would they see another miracle? Could Jesus really make a paralyzed man walk?
Of course, the paralytic was also looking up at Jesus, too, probably wondering the exact same thing. ”Can Jesus really heal me?” This man had probably been on that cot for years.
The Lord opens His mouth to speak, and you can imagine that pin-drop moment. The crowd holds its collective breath in hushed silence. Everyone waiting and wondering what Jesus will say next. But Jesus says the most awkward thing possible: “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
Um… what?
Forgiveness?
Imagine saying that to a paralysed man? As if he doesn’t have bigger problems. The man needed his legs to work. The man needed to get out of adult diapers. The problem was paralysis. So why would Jesus address forgiveness? Again, how awkward!
However, I can’t help but think that Jesus intended the awkwardness. It’s so perfectly fitting. It characterizes so much of Christ’s ministry. He didn’t come to give us everything we want. He came to give us what we truly need. For while it is certainly true that Jesus came to heal humanity, even from such things as paralysis—and one day, every malady, every sickness, and all disability will be wiped away once and for all, on the last day in the new heaven and earth—but Jesus’ true work was to bring about the ultimate healing for the most disabling of all diseases: sin and death. Sin and death are the real problems that doom humanity. They are the ultimate type of paralysis.
Indeed, the seemingly awkward placement of forgiveness in this text should always remind us of the true nature of the Church’s work, too. For as much as we are to love the world around us by addressing physical needs—helping the sick, the hurting, the poor and needy—nevertheless, our one, true calling is to bring the good news of forgiveness of sins through Jesus Christ to all people. The forgiveness of sins must always be the central theme. Always! In our ministry and in our worship. Everything else the Church can offer and do is secondary. The forgiveness of sins must always be primary.
When Christians forget this, we end up being a lot like the funny story of the usher in the posh theater, who noticed a man sprawled across three seats. “Sorry, sir,” the usher said, “but you’re only allowed one seat.” The man groaned but didn’t budge. The usher became impatient and said, “Sir, if you don’t get up I’m going to have to call the manager.” Again, the man just groaned. Infuriated by this, the usher marched briskly back up the aisle in search of his manager.
In a few moments, both the usher and the manager returned and stood over the man. The manger was thinking he needed to call a taxi and get this man out of there. He pokes the guy and says, “All right buddy, what’s your name?” “Sam,” the man moaned. “Where did you come from, Sam?”
With pain in his voice, Sam replied, “The balcony.”
Isn’t that our problem? In the story, the usher and manager only saw what they thought was the problem—a man who was drunk and need to be hauled out of there. In similar fashion, how often do we Christians look at sinful people the same way? We are quick to judge. And we too easily forget that just like falling from a balcony, sin damages every human being in incalculable ways.
Thus, when we see all kinds of confusion, pain, and hurt in the world, we must refrain from putting all the blame on the people involved and remember the real cause—sin—and remember the true cure—the Gospel. While it’s all too easy to dismiss, condemn and disassociate with people who are living in ways that are blatantly sinful, it is actually our calling to offer them the medicine they truly need—a Savior who loves them and died to secure forgiveness for them.
Of course, offering forgiveness will not always be well received. Not everyone will want to hear that they need it, and this will get awkward at times! But Jesus never hesitated to make forgiveness the main point of everything He did. Neither should we.
Despite what Jesus says to the Pharisees about which is easier—to forgive a man his sins or to heal him from paralysis—the reality is that the paralysis could have actually been fixed with but a word. All Jesus had to do was say, “rise.” Indeed, how ironic that Christ, who with the power of a single word could heal diseases, raise up the lame to walk, and still raging storms, but to accomplish the forgiveness of our sins, our Savior had to suffer the horrors of a cross. In contrast, there’s you and me, who can’t do anything miraculous, yet we can forgive sins with mere words alone: the words, “I forgive you.”
It’s so easy. But sometimes we act like we’d rather do anything else.
Never mind the awkwardness. Christians must strive to approach the world as Christ did. He didn’t condemn people. He forgave them. Furthermore, He didn’t wait for people to get their act together. He didn’t stand off at a distance judging them. Instead, Jesus took the initiative to bring true healing and offered the medicine of forgiveness to all who needed it. He offered forgiveness so that sinners might repent. He didn’t wait for repentance before offering forgiveness. That’s an important distinction.
Thank God for a Savior who didn’t mind being a little awkward!
O Lord, open my lips... 