Restored and Forgiven

I invite you to turn to the Gospel of Mark 1:40, and I’m going to read to 2:12. Here Mark gives to us the record of a man with leprosy who was restored and a paralyzed man who was forgiven.

“A man with leprosy came to him”—that is, to Jesus—“and begged him on his knees, ‘If you are willing, you can make me clean.’

“Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. ‘I am willing,’ he said. ‘Be clean!’ Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured.

“Jesus sent him away at once with a strong warning: ‘See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.’ Instead he went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news. As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from everywhere.

“A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, lowered the mat the paralyzed man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’

“Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, ‘Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?’

“Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, ‘Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to the paralytic, “Your sins are forgiven,” or to say, “Get up, take your mat 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 tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.’ He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’”

Amen.

Father, now, with our Bibles before us, we pray that you will free us from every unhelpful distraction, so that in speaking and in listening, in obeying, believing, and having the Word applied to our lives, we may reverence you, the living God, recognizing that you’ve chosen in this way to speak to us. And so then, help us, we pray, to be all ears for your voice and your voice alone. For in Christ’s name we pray. Amen.

Well, Jesus had no doubt surprised his disciples by the way in which he told them that despite the apparent success of what it was taking place, it was time for them to move on. You’ll see that in 1:38. He clearly was not about to chart his progress on the basis of numbers. They had come to him, Mark tells us in verse 37, to let him know that everyone was looking for him, the inference being “Things are going terrifically well, Jesus, and you ought to be where all the people are. Why are you out here on your own?” And the response of Jesus was equally striking—verse 38: “Let us go somewhere else … so [that] I can preach there also.”

You see, Jesus knew how easy it would be for people to be attracted to him for the wrong reasons. And people are still attracted to Jesus for wrong reasons—for what they might get out of him, for the hopes of material benefit, or whatever it may be. And so he is very, very clear, and Mark makes this straightforwardly plain to us in these opening chapters of his Gospel. He was very, very clear concerning his purpose: “We’re going to leave here. We’re going to go to the other villages throughout Galilee,” he said, “and that is in order that I might preach there.” The material and bodily benefits were not and are not, as we’re going to see, the things that matter most.

That bears saying again: the material and bodily benefits were not and are not the things that matter most. And that is something that we really need to take on board if we’re going to study the Bible. Because the Bible challenges our preoccupation with time and introduces us to eternity. It challenges our preoccupation with materialism and the things that are tangible and seen and introduces us to an invisible world, and actually goes as far as to say that the things that are seen are temporal and pass away, and the things that are unseen are eternal.[1] And as the crowd begins to rush to Jesus, their preoccupation, understandably and almost inevitably, is with that which is material and tangible and bodily. And in these two incidents, this truth is going to come home forcibly.

First of all, then, we’re going to look at this man with leprosy, who is wonderfully restored by Jesus. When Mark tells us that “a man with leprosy came to him,” it’s presumably in one of these nearby villages which Jesus had referenced in verse 38. I want us just to notice four simple things: first of all, to notice the man’s condition, and then to notice Jesus’ compassion, and then we’ll go on from there in an A-B-B-A form, for those of you who remember poetry from school.

The Man’s Condition

The man’s condition is stated in the opening phrase: “A man with leprosy…” Now, the reason it’s stated so frankly and boldly is because he was defined by his disease. And rather than me make an attempt to try and explain the disease of leprosy to you, let me give you just one quote from a commentary on the book of Leviticus by R. K. Harrison, an Old Testament scholar. Listen carefully to this so that we might understand the phrase “a man with leprosy”:

A diagnosis of [leprosy] was as much of a death sentence to the ancient Israelites as [news] about an advanced malignancy would be to a modern patient. [That’s a cancer diagnosis.] The diagnostic guidelines furnished for the priest-physician would prevent him from bringing unnecessary sorrow and hardship to his countrymen while at the same time ensuring the health of the community. Once a man was branded as a ‘leper’, he had to adopt the posture of a mourner by tearing his clothes, allowing his hair to become unkempt, covering his beard or moustache, and crying ‘unclean’. He had to live outside the camp, or perhaps in company with other ‘lepers’ …, but his existence was nothing more than a living death. Unless there was a quick remission of the disease, the victim of clinical leprosy knew that his condition would be of lengthy duration, and that its loathsome nature would prohibit significant contact with society. Most of all, the ‘leper’ would be cut off from spiritual fellowship with the covenant people, and in a real sense would be without hope and without God in the world.[2]

We remember that, of course, is a phrase that we pick up later on in the New Testament, where Paul describes those of us who have never responded to God’s offer of salvation in Jesus as being just that: “without hope and without God in the world.”[3] That is this man’s condition. And the gravity of his condition is matched by the intensity of his approach.

You will notice the way in which Mark puts it, very graphically: the man with leprosy came to him, begged him, kneeling down. All of these verbs are heaped one on top of another in order that we might get this picture. The man, a leper, puts himself within touching distance of Jesus. You’re not supposed to do that if you’re a leper. You’re supposed to stay as far away as possible. Therefore, it must surely be an indication of how badly he wanted to get to Jesus, the reputation of Jesus having preceded him. And the man, you see from the text, is absolutely convinced of Jesus’ ability to restore him to both health and society: “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”

That’s his condition.

Jesus’ Compassion

Secondly, Jesus’ compassion. Verse 41 begins with the phrase “Filled with compassion…” It’s a very strong verb. It’s used elsewhere in the Bible. Those of you who remember the story of the prodigal sons, of the love of the father, will perhaps remember that this very phrase is found in Luke 15:20, describing the response of the father to the sight of his long-lost son. Remember it? “[And when] he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him.” He overflowed with compassion when he looked at this man. Jesus looked at the man—a man who had to announce that he was unclean,[4] a man who was shunned by society, a man who was distanced from the whole community of faith—Jesus looks at him, and he is “filled with compassion.” It is because he is so full of compassion that it overflows from him. And the only way that we will ever overflow with compassion is if we’re full of compassion. The only way that you will overflow with joy is if you’re full of joy. We all spill out in our lives that which we’re filled with. If we’re filled with ourselves, it just spills out. Jesus is “filled with compassion.”

And he does what the rabbi said you mustn’t do. The rabbi said that if you touch a leper, you become ceremonially unclean.[5] So Jesus defies the ceremonial law and touches the leper. Lane, the commentator, says, “The ceremonial law gives [way] to the law of [love] when the two [collide].”[6] And the law of love in Jesus causes him to not simply speak to the man—he could have healed him with just a word—but he actually touches him.

The only way that we will ever overflow with compassion is if we’re full of compassion. The only way that you will overflow with joy is if you’re full of joy. We all spill out in our lives that which we’re filled with.

How long would it have been since this man had ever been touched by anyone other than another leper? He perhaps could never remember an occasion when somebody without the leprous community had actually touched him. And Jesus touches him. Filled with compassion for him, he identifies himself with him. He gets down, as it were, into his circumstances.

I read somewhere this week that the healing miracles of Jesus are sacraments of forgiveness. In other words, they are pictures of the ultimate dimension of what Jesus came to do. Jesus came and identified with us in our sin. He didn’t come and shout from afar. He came right down into our circumstances. And when Paul finally summarizes the wonder of this, he says in 2 Corinthians 5:21 that “God made him who knew no sin to [become] sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” And by his touch of this man, he pictures the way in which Jesus takes upon himself all that we deserve as punishment for our sin and, in doing so, gives to us everything that we do not deserve that is bound up in his righteousness.

And there is no gap here. You will notice the man was instantaneously cured. Verse 42: “Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured.” Again, a wonderful picture of the instantaneous transformation of the gospel in a life.

Jesus’ Directive

Now Jesus then gives a directive. The man’s condition, Jesus’ compassion, now Jesus’ directive. The background to this I’ll leave you to read for yourself. Go to chapter 14 of the third book of the Bible, the book of Leviticus, and you can fill in all the blanks. Essentially, what Jesus tells him to do, in going to the priest and offering the sacrifice of Moses, is to do the right thing. It’s quite an irony that Jesus, having countermanded, as it were, the ceremonial law, now tells this man to “make sure that you keep the law. If you do this,” says Jesus, “it will be an expression of gratitude. You will be providing evidence to those to whom you go.” There’s some debate about the final phrase in verse 44, “as a testimony to them,” or “as a testimony against them.” In other words, those who oppose him, when they see what has happened through Jesus, then it will testify against their opposition. It’s really not a matter of great import, but it is just interesting. There will be “a testimony to them.”

And also, it will be by this means that this man will be able to reenter the community. In other words, there’s a pragmatic dimension to this. If this man were simply to go out into the community and try to reengage with things as a result of what had happened to him in Jesus, then the people would have said, “Well, we don’t recognize this at all. You have to go through the normal channels. You have to go to the priest. You have to do what Moses said in the Law if you’re going to receive restitution and if you’re going to receive the necessary paperwork and so on so that you can join our exercise club. But you can’t just join the exercise club because you said that you met Jesus someplace along the line. We don’t know what you’re talking about.” So Jesus recognized that the essential nature of the man’s restoration—not to health, for he’s taken care of the restoration to health, but the restoration to the community—is directly tied to his obedience to the law of Moses.

The Man’s Disobedience

So, the directive is clear, and you will notice, then, that the man’s disobedience is quite striking. Jesus has already silenced the demons—1:34: “He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.” So, he has silenced the demonic powers, and now this man refuses to keep quiet. He refuses to keep quiet. It’s amazing, isn’t it, really?

Now, I think we should be careful not to condemn the man too quickly. Imagine that you had leprosy, that you’d lived your life in a leper colony, that you were full of scabs and pimples and blotches and all manner of disgusting-looking, putrefying wounds, and you met Jesus, and he cured you, and he cleansed you, and he sent you down the road, and he told you, “Now, I don’t want you to tell anyone.” And you went down the road, and the first person that saw you said, “Hey! Hey! You’re looking terrific. What happened to you?” “I, I…” “What? You struck dumb as well as being cured?” “No, I can’t tell you. Oh, I must tell you! I met Jesus! Look at me!” I mean, I don’t know how the man was supposed to do this, quite honestly. I mean, he was supposed to do it and be obedient. But he clearly couldn’t handle it, and he didn’t do it.

Now, I don’t want to cut him too much slack, because you will notice, “as a result” of his disobedience, “Jesus could no longer enter a town openly” and had to stay “outside in lonely places.” In other words, the man’s disobedience hindered the development of the ministry of Jesus in the Galilean villages. That’s what the text says. Because the man disobeyed Jesus, it had an impact on what Jesus was doing. But he disobeyed by telling all about Jesus! What kind of disobedience is that? He disobeys by telling the good news. Aren’t we always supposed to tell the good news? Aren’t we always supposed to talk about everything? Isn’t it terrific when we all talk, talk, talk, talk?

No. Let me just pause here. I won’t delay here, but let me just pause and say that I think there is perhaps an inherent warning in this that it is possible for us, by our witnessing, to prove a detriment to the cause of the gospel. Have you ever thought about that? That by our very witnessing, we may actually hinder the work of the gospel. That’s hard for those of us who have big mouths. Because we love to let it go, giving it plenty of this: “Oh yes, I learned this, and I know this, and let me tell you about that, and you know this, and you’ve done that wrong,” and everything else. And all of a sudden, before we know where we are, thinking we’re advancing the cause of the gospel, we’re actually driving people away.

Some of us think it’s our job to go out and explain to everybody, from whatever church background they come from, that their church is completely wrong, totally nuts, and so on, and if only they were smart enough to believe like us, then everything would be well. And we think we’re doing a great cause for the gospel. No, we’re not. We’re just a genuine nuisance. The command to go out and tell the world about Jesus is circumscribed by all of the other principles that are inherent in what it means to live for Christ and to be obedient to Christ. Sometimes our most eloquent statements will be found in silence.

This man was supposed to be quiet. He wasn’t quiet. And the impact is recorded for us there, isn’t it? It changes the strategy of Jesus. He’s no longer able to go into these towns. He stays outside, but there’s no dip in popularity, as the final sentence of chapter 1 makes clear: “Yet the people still came to him from everywhere.” Mark is very expansive, isn’t he? So he’s told us already that all the sick and the demon-possessed came in the evening, that the whole town gathered at the door, and now the people are coming from absolutely everywhere. I think Mark wants us to know that this Jesus movement was really gaining momentum.

While the majority of people were absolutely fascinated by miracles, Jesus was focused on telling them the good news.

Now, as a result of this, and after “a few days,” Jesus is back in Capernaum. Capernaum appears to have become, now, his home base. That’s what verse 1 suggests: “A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, … people heard that he had come home.” “He had come home.” Whether he had made the home of James and John or Simon and Andrew his home or whether he was somewhere else we do not know, but nevertheless, he was back in town. And as a result of the word going out that Jesus was back in town, given what had happened when he had been previously in town, before he went out around the villages nearby, the whole crowd decided that they were going to show up.

And so verse 2 tells us that the crowd that gathered was so vast “that there was no room left, not even outside the door.” And notice what Jesus did: at the end of verse 2, “he preached the word to them.” Elalei ton logon. “He preached the word to them.” This became a technical phrase which, by the time of Paul writing to Timothy in his second letter, says to him, “Timothy, people are interested in this. They have itching ears. They want to hear that. They gather around them all kinds of people who say all kinds of things. But this is what I want you to do, Timothy: I want you to do what Jesus did. I want you to preach the word. To preach the word.”[7] And what was “the word”? The word that Jesus was preaching is in 1:15: that “the kingdom … is near” and that repentance and faith is called for those who hear the call of the kingdom. In other words, while the majority of people were absolutely fascinated by miracles, Jesus was focused on telling them the good news.

Well, we’re not going to pause on this either, but it is a very contemporary circumstance. You can gather a crowd fascinated by miracles and claims of the miraculous. Much harder to gather a crowd if you’re going to tell them, “We’re going to look at Mark chapter 1, beginning at verse 40, and we’re going to go through to 2:12.” They say, “Oh dear, what a dreadful bore! Can’t you do something miraculous? Can’t you do something spectacular? Can’t you do something so that we could all talk about it?” Well, Jesus, of course, could do all of these things, but he determined he wasn’t going to appeal to their fascination with that which was material and bodily. He was going to stick with the process and the focus of proclaiming the good news of the gospel, because that was and is what really matters. And this little story reveals that to us.

Through the Roof

I made a number of headings, and I’ll just tell you what they are as I’m flying towards the conclusion. I wrote “Through the Roof” in my notes at this point. “Through the Roof.” The ministry is going through the roof—not up the way but down the way—with the arrival of this paralyzed man on a mat carried by four other men. They were clearly determined to get him to Jesus. There was no way that they were going to get down the street or through the front door of the house, and so one of them, one of the initiative-takers of the four, must have said, “Well, we don’t have to put up with this. We’ll just go through the roof!” And he must have been good, as a good leader, and he convinced them all, “Through the roof we’ll go.” Probably a first-story dwelling with a roof that would be made of vegetation—branches and bits and pieces of material, thorn bushes and things like that—and overlaid with clay, maybe even clay tiles, and up on the roof they go. You can imagine all the people are standing outside, saying, “Hey, don’t push! Don’t push! We’ve been here for half an hour. Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re going up on the roof.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go on the roof.”

“Watch us.” And up on the roof they go.

Now, I can’t imagine what it was like down below, as Jesus has the group in the house, and he’s giving his instruction—and for somebody who’s distressed by babies crying, I can’t imagine if somebody took the roof off and clods of clay started falling on my head. I mean, I don’t… That is a level of communication such as I’ve never encountered. So you can only but imagine that Jesus stops for a moment, and then something falls down, bits and pieces, and eventually there’s a face poking down through the ceiling and looking up. And Jesus could have said, “Get them off the roof. I’m busy here.” But apparently he said, “Well, that guy’ll either fall through, or they’ll drop him down or something, but we’ll deal with it as it comes along.”

Imagine their faces, the faces of the people, covered in dirt and sweat and just waiting for Jesus to show them what they came to see, just waiting for another of these great miracles. But neither they—the group, the four—nor the people gathered, nor we could ever be ready for what they heard.

A Provocative Statement

And then I wrote in my notes “A Provocative Statement.” “A Provocative Statement,” which is there for you in verse 5: Jesus says, “Son,” which is a term of endearment, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

Now, can you imagine, after all of that effort getting the fellow down the street, up on the roof, digging a hole in the roof, dropping him down, and there he goes—finally he’s down before Jesus, mission accomplished—and they’re all waiting for him to get up out of his bed, and Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven”? They’re looking at one another on the roof: “Wait a minute! We brought him here for a visible change. We didn’t bring him here for an invisible forgiveness. What is this?” What kind of statement is this? Is this not inappropriate? Is this statement irrelevant?

Why did Jesus tell the man his sins were forgiven? Now, there’s nothing to suggest that there was some link between the man’s sins and his paralysis. The book of Job warns against that kind of application. That’s not to say that there is not a link between disease and sin. Sexual immorality and STDs are linked. It is proven: that’s sin, here’s disease. But in this instance, there’s no suggestion that what the man has done has contributed to his paralysis. No.

Jesus wants for us the thing that matters most, and that is that we should be restored to a relationship with God, who has made us for himself.

The reason Jesus said what he said—and listen carefully, ’cause this is the nub of this—the reason that Jesus said what he said was because he was putting his finger on the man’s—on the man’s—and everybody’s greatest need: the need for forgiveness. He was going to show the man that the real need in his life did not have to do with his paralysis of body but with his paralysis of soul. And so he addresses first things first. He’s not disinterested in the man’s physical condition. The record bears it out: he healed the man. Nor is Jesus unconcerned about your health, or about your marriage, or about your job, or about your unemployment, or your security. He is not unconcerned about all of these things, but first things first.

Jesus wants for you the things that matter most. Or we might put it better still: Jesus wants for us the thing that matters most, and that is that we should be restored to a relationship with God, who has made us for himself.

Immediate Conflict

I then wrote in my notes “Immediate Conflict.” “Immediate Conflict.” And the conflict now comes not from the devil himself, who had opposed Jesus in the wilderness, not from the demonic forces that had opposed him in the synagogue, but, amazingly, from the religious establishment. We might expect that these experts on the law, these people who understand the Old Testament Scriptures, would immediately be on the side of this man who spoke in terms of compassion and forgiveness. But as Mark is about to make clear in what follows in his Gospel, the stiffest opposition to Jesus is going to come from the religious establishment.

Now, I don’t want to get off on an antiestablishment diatribe, but I do want you to consider, ’cause you’re sensible people: just review church history and consider how often it is that the religious establishment seems to be absolutely bent on reinforcing all kinds of concepts and notions and minimizing the necessity of people coming to Jesus, acknowledging that they are without God and without hope in the world. Consider how easy it is for some other message to sound out from organized and sustained religion.

No, these men are immediately in conflict with Jesus. It’s not that their theology is wrong. As you will notice, they realize that only God can forgive sin. What is wrong is their deduction, their powers of deduction. Their logic is off. “Who can forgive sins except God alone?” That’s right. “Well then, this man must be guilty of blasphemy.” No, not necessarily. Have you entertained—are you unwilling, are you unable to entertain—the alternative explanation: that the one who has just said to this man, “Your sin is forgiven,” is none other than God incarnate, God in the flesh?

Jesus Asks a Question

And so Jesus asks a question. I wrote that in my notes as well. Knowing “what they were thinking,” you will notice—verse 8—Jesus challenged them to consider. He says, “Let me ask you: Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’?” Well, clearly it’s easier to say the former, isn’t it? It’s easier to say, “Your sins are forgiven,” because how can anybody verify that? How can you know whether it’s happened or whether it hasn’t happened? It’s harder from this perspective to say the latter—to say, “Take up your mat and walk”—because if it doesn’t happen, then the speaker is immediately exposed to ridicule. So Jesus says, “Having said what is easy, now let me say what is hard, so that you will know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”

How could Jesus, with such ease, pronounce forgiveness? Because he recognized that this forgiveness was about to be achieved at great cost to himself, in that he would be the very sacrifice for sins necessary to see men and women reconciled to God, who had made them. He, by his death on the cross, was going to make it possible for the Christian to say, “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven; to his feet your tribute bring. I’m ransomed, I’m healed, I’m restored, I’m forgiven. Who like me his praise should sing?”[8] Actually, it’s not just difficult to say, “Your our sins are forgiven”; it’s impossible. For only God can forgive sins.

Now, we must stop, and we will stop purposefully here.

I wonder: Do you recall another person preaching this passage from this pulpit some time ago? There are no prizes for this. I’ve run out of chocolate eggs by now. But I have never forgotten when Dick Lucas preached from this passage on one of the occasions when he was here for our pastors’ conference, and in the evening, he preached on this particular section of the healing of the paralytic. And the reason I remember it most forcibly is because he suggested at one point, at the end of his message, he said, “Imagine that the paralytic was to come back from heaven and speak to us. What do you think he would say?” And then he said, “I think he would say this.” So now I’m the paralytic, I’ve come back from heaven, and I’m speaking to you. Okay?

“It’s great to be with you. I remember that day when I was healed as if it was yesterday. I had longed, longed to walk. And when I got up out of that situation and went down the street, I was walking and leaping and praising God. I’d never thought I’d walk again, but when I got out of that room, it was just to enter back fully into life with my children, with my wife, and so on. If I had time, I could tell you about all of my life. But now I’ve been with Jesus for a very long time. Some two thousand years I’ve been with Jesus. And I know now why he forgave my sins first. That was the really important thing I needed; I just didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought how great it was to be able to walk. Now I know that of the two great blessings he gave me on that day, the spiritual was by far the greatest.”

Do you get it? And the crowds flocked to Jesus, because they recognized that in his compassion, he was able to touch them bodily and materially—as crowds flock to contemporary churches in America today. It is possible to preach in such a way as to suggest that that is actually why Jesus came: to fix your finances, to enable you with your teenage children, to put your marriage back together again, and so on. It’s just sort of a divine psychotherapy program. And people will stay with that for a very long time.

What is not so clearly heard is what Jesus said: “I want your sins to be forgiven.” You may be here, and you may have been coming here for some weeks, and the reason you started come here is because everything went skew-whiff within your marriage, or perhaps something happened to you, and things have taken a downturn. And I understand you looking out and beyond yourself, and I’m thrilled about that. But don’t think for a minute that the reason Jesus came was simply to put you on your feet. He may put you on your feet, but he may not. But what he came to do was to restore you to a relationship with God, who made you. And it would be better to lie flat on your back for all of your life and go to heaven than dance your way through your life and go to hell. That’s why Jesus said, “Son, let’s deal with first things first. The walking is not a problem. This is the issue.”

Father, thank you that the Bible speaks, and we need to listen, pay attention. Thank you that when you come to our lives and put your finger on our greatest need—the need for forgiveness and reconciliation—our lives are just as instantaneously touched and changed as was the leper restored to the community and the paralyzed man forgiven and repaired.

I pray that you will help us to know where we stand before you today so that we may call out to you from where we are, call out to you in our paralysis, “Lord Jesus Christ, I am paralyzed by my own sinfulness, by my own self-centeredness, by my own jealously, my pride, my hatred of people. Come, Lord Jesus Christ, and deal with my paralysis of soul, I pray.” And Jesus hears those cries, and he answers them. And we’ll know when he has, because the hymn writer’s words will so easily reflect our own condition.

Hear our prayers, O God, for Christ’s sake. Amen.

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[1] See 2 Corinthians 4:18.

[2] R. K. Harrison, Leviticus: An Introduction and Commentary, The Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity, 1980), 145.

[3] Ephesians 2:12 (NIV 1984).

[4] See Leviticus 13:45–46.

[5] See Leviticus 5:3.

[6] Alfred Plummer, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to S. Luke (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1896), 149, quoted in Hendrik van der Loos, The Miracles of Jesus (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1965), 485, quoted in William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark, The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 87.

[7] 2 Timothy 4:1–5 (paraphrased).

[8] Henry Francis Lyte, “Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven” (1834). Paraphrased.