You say 'Rejoice
always,' just as You told the paralyzed beggar to 'Get up. Pick up
your mat and walk.' It's ironic—those commands; given to ones who
absolutely, obviously, and almost comically do not have the strength
to obey. And yet Your words brought the crippled one to his feet and
they bring joy to my crippled heart—the one that, on its own,
doesn't love, only hates; doesn't give, only steals; doesn't beat,
only flatlines; the one that doesn't live, but is dying.
But those words
“rejoice always” beckon forth blood which pumps and travels and
fills, and it courses through this old, paralyzed beggar of a heart
and causes it to beat with joy and love and peace.
Ya know, maybe
obedience itself is a miracle. You tell the beggar to walk—his walk
of obedience is miraculous. You called Lazarus, a dead man for 4
days, to come out of the grave and live, and He did. You told the blind man to
see, and His eyes were opened. You told the deaf man's ears to be
opened, and they were; His tongue was loosed in praise.
You pick the least
likely, don't You?
the paralyzed to
walk
the blind to see
the deaf to hear
the mute to speak
the sick to be
healed
the fatherless to
be a father or mother
the depressed to
rejoice
the addict to
release
the prostitute to
be faithful
the criminal to be
freed
the last to be
first
the low to be
raised up
the dead to live
a baby to save all
A Lamb to defeat
death.
I see myself in all
of them—the poor beggar, the blind, the deaf, and the mute. My
eyes, ears, and heart, too, are in desperate need of a miracle. I am
in desperate need of Your word commands.
But maybe none of
this is by ourselves and our own strength. Maybe all our hearts are old
crippled beggars stuck on the dirty ground-mat that can only rise at
His words “get up and walk.” Maybe joy is only a miraculous act
of obedience to His words “rejoice always.”
And maybe His
commands aren't constricting, but liberating. Maybe they
are an invitation to experience the Divine supernatural at work in
our own minds, hearts, souls, and bodies.
Maybe it all comes
down to this promise from Ezekiel 36:26
“I will give you a
new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your
stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.”
A
responsive heart. Your
words are the invitation to
obedience; the invitation to
the miracle. You asked the paralytic on his mat “Do you want to get
well?” This question preceded the miracle. It preceded his walking
and his healing and his rejoicing. Maybe that's the first step: to
want to be well. Maybe that's just another way to say repentance. To want to see the Lord. To want to rejoice. To
crave His goodness. And just as a good Father does, He gives to His
children what good they want. The paralytic wanted to be well, he was
commanded to be well, and he was well.
I
look throughout the Bible and see so many healings and miracles, and
I get so caught up in the excitement of the healing moment
that I miss the healing process. The
miracles start with a humble walk to the feet of the Healer: an
admission of sickness and need--repentance. The miracle begins with a desire to
be well, and a surrender to be made well. And then His commands are answered in miraculous
obedience from
His strength, not ours. The
crippled walk, the blind see, the deaf hear, the dead live, and we are freed. We are redeemed.
“You came near
when I called you, and you said 'Do not fear.' O Lord, you took up my
case; you redeemed my life.” {Lamentations 3:57-58}
“Jesus
answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to
the Father except through me.'” {John 14:6}
