Touched By Jesus
June 3 2012 Mark 1:40-45
Intro:
At first he tried to hide it. Perhaps no one would notice. Maybe it would go away. It could be nothing.
But instead of shrinking, it grew. His skin started to get blotchy. It broke open, began to ooze puss.
The fear that had been ever present since he first noticed grew to panic. He tried to stay home, tried to stay away from people, tried to deflect questions, tried to deny the reality of what was happening. He did not want to accept that he was sick. He couldn’t accept it. He knew what it meant.
Fear:
Fear is a potent, debilitating thing. It grabs us, grips us, strips us of the ability to think clearly and function properly. It makes us believe the worst possible outcome is inevitable, and it makes us feel that it will be even worse than that.
Discovery:
His fear grew; he knew people were looking at him differently. As much as he tried to avoid people, as much as he tried to cover up his disease, people knew something was wrong.
Finally the confrontation that had been building for some time came: his father and his wife confronted him. They had their suspicions; pull up your sleeves, they demanded. He cowered away. Dad and wife, eyes filling with tears, stepped back: please, they said, pull up your sleeves.
Trembling, he reached the cuff of his robe and pulled it up the slightest bit. Gasps and cries filled the room. His wife turned her face away and buried it in his father’s shoulder. The scent of fear filled the room, and they took another step back.
Hardness filled his father’s voice. You must leave. You endanger us all. Go. Now. You are a leper.
Exile:
He fled. The fear grabbed hold and he ran, leaving his home and his family, feeling shame at his illness, guilt at his selfishness that exposed his loved ones, and despair: there is no cure. Only a miserable life at the margins.
He knew where to run – he knew the place simply because it was forbidden. He had always known – do not go near there. That is where the lepers are, you will catch it and die a slow horrible death as an outcast, rejected and alone, scrounging what food you can from the dump, surrounded by misery and pain. So that is where he ran.
Untouched:
The worst part was this: no human would touch him ever again. Even among the other outcasts, there was no affection, no hugging, no nestling together for warmth in the coldness of the night in the dark caves they took to for shelter. He was rejected, cast aside, turned away. Literally, an outcast. Doomed to live the remainder of his days without ever knowing the touch of another living person.
Imagine life as an outcast:
Although it is unpleasant to imagine, I’d like you to try. What would that life be like? Never to be touched. Never to be approached. To have everyone cringe at the sight of you, and turn away, leaving as quickly as possible, to hear the word of deep rejection from those you believed love you. To be surrounded by others like you, all desperate, diseased, hopeless.
It is unpleasant. I apologize. But unless we attempt to grasp how terrible the situation was, we won’t be able to grasp how great the miracle is.
Rumors:
I imagine that in the early stages, before complete despair sets in and a person gives up the will to live, any rumor – any possibility – any faint hope would be grabbed hold of and clung to. So and so ate a plant and got a little better: people flock and gobble it up. So and so stayed out of the sun and got a little better; people retreat further into the cave. Someone else stayed in the sun all the time – suddenly people are sleeping outside. You get the picture. Any tiny hope is pursued.
Rumor comes; there is a healer in the town. People are saying he healed the demon possessed, he healed diseases, that the whole town had gathered and seen a bunch of miracles.
Going to Jesus:
The man left immediately. He had to try, he had to see, he had to find out. He hurried into town, what should he say? How could he ask? Could the miracles be true? As he drew near, he called out the required warning: unclean! unclean! The crowds parted and gave him much space, their fear pushed them far away. He yelled for directions – where is the healer? where can I find him? The anxious crowd pointed as they shrunk back, obviously angry that he would endanger them by coming into their safe clean city, mostly hoping he would just quickly go away.
Then he saw him. Surrounded by others, all clamoring for His attention. He saw Him praying for people, smiling at them, touching them, and healing them. He stopped. Could this man heal him? Could this nightmare come to an end? Could he get his life back? Something – call it hope, call it desperation, call it faith – welled up within him. And he started to run: he still called out unclean as a warning, which also helped because it parted the crowd and opened a path, and he ran straight to Jesus.
By the way, that is always a great idea. Run straight to Jesus.
On his knees:
In the commotion, all eyes turned in his direction. Jesus did also. The man skidded to a stop in front of Jesus, and he quickly fell to his knees several feet away. He bowed his head low to the ground, the desperation and fear mingled with the hope and strange faith he felt growing inside of him.
And he begged. The words tumbled out, the please help me and the I can’t live like this anymore and the I need – and he begged and pleaded and the words rolled and rolled in desperation. Then the strange growing hope turned strong, and he stopped the begging and said clearly: If you are willing, you can make me clean. Words of belief, words of faith, words of the desperate need to be clean coupled with the confidence that Jesus could make it happen.
Anger or Compassion:
Now, what the Bible says next is really quite fascinating. Verse 41 describes how Jesus felt. The interesting part is that there is some debate about the actual emotion. It is involved and complicated, I won’t get into it in great detail, but tell me – what does your Bible say Jesus felt?
Most read compassion. Moved with compassion, or Filled with compassion. But notice carefully – there should be a little letter after the word compassion which tells you about a little note at the bottom of the page – that is what we have in our New Living Translation. The note says, some manuscripts say Moved with anger.
The recent revision of the New International Version actually moves this out of the footnote and into the actual text: it says, Jesus was indignant, and the footnote there says Many manuscripts Jesus was filled with compassion.
As I said, I won’t get into great detail, but those are generally assumed to be pretty different emotions: compassion and anger.
Which one did Jesus feel? Emotions are complicated – the Biblical scholars can debate the best word and the best translation and sort out all those technical issues for us, but when I try to imagine Jesus’ emotional response to this leper, running up the dusty path, falling on his knees, begging Jesus to heal him, it makes it a little easier for me.
Jesus’ Response:
As Jesus heard the cry from the leper on his knees before Him, Jesus’ gut wrenched. He felt hatred for what sin had done in this world He created – anger at the suffering, anger at the physical pain this man has known, and anger at the emotional rejection he has lived through. This is not how We created the world to be! Jesus thought. This is just plain wrong!
Along with the anger, Jesus’ gut was wrenched also with this man’s expression of faith: If you are willing, you can make me clean. Anger and indignation and compassion flowed simultaneously, and moved Jesus to action.
He stepped towards him. The crowds shrunk back even farther – what was Jesus doing? He should not get close, he might get sick. Even worse, in the minds of the crowds, Jesus was about to defile Himself spiritually. See, the leper was unclean, and if Jesus gets too close He might accidently touch him, and if that happens then Jesus will be unclean also! The leper himself cringed as Jesus stepped closer, a sudden battle raging within him – desperate for human contact, desperate to be touched, desperate to be healed; but also many years of knowing he was dangerous, toxic physically and spiritually, a contagion.
All that happened in an instant, and Jesus had already taken a second step, and a third step, and He crouched in front of him so he might look him in the eye and then He reached out His hand – and now the crowd gasped audibly! – and Jesus placed His hand on the leper’s bare forearm.
Jesus touched him.
Time felt like it froze for the man with leprosy. It had felt like eternity since he had felt the warmth of human contact, he had resigned himself to never feeling that again. But he felt it now. Jesus touched him.
Then He spoke: I am willing. Be clean!
And he was. Healed. Restored. Completely clean. It was more than a physical healing, having the leprosy gone restored this man to physical health, but also to community, and also to his ability to worship his God as a full participant in the nation and people of God. The touch of Jesus restored everything.
Application:
There are two applications for us from this story.
First, do you need to run to Jesus? Do you need His touch on your life? I do not promise physical healing or an instant quick fix, though I am always glad to pray it. But there is something much larger going on here than just the physical miracle – I think that is why this story is in 3 of the 4 gospels so prominently. Jesus’ touch defies the social stigmas, restores this man’s health physically but also socially and spiritually. The physical miracle of healing the leprosy is a small part. Jesus touched the untouchable. Jesus closed the gap. Jesus reached out – literally – to those that society had pushed away, driven away, piled into the dump and forgotten about. And Jesus restored them.
Maybe you have felt rejected, alone, on the margins. Run to Jesus. Fall on your knees before Him. We are headed into communion in a few moments, what a great opportunity to do exactly that. Run to Jesus, kneel before Him, speak the words of the leper, If you are willing, Lord. And then await His touch.
The second application is this: do we sincerely desire to be like Jesus? Then we, too, must close the distance between us and the outcast. The marginalized. The people that we turn away from in fear, in disgust, in revulsion even. As we see from Jesus, we need fear no contamination. Instead, if we are to be Christ-like, we must take two or three steps, crouch down where we might look others in the eye, and then reach out our hands and touch.
See, when Jesus touches, He restores. It is the touch of the Master’s hand, and it changes everything. And He calls us to follow Him, and as we do so our touch also restores – it restores dignity, it restores community, and through it flows the same love and power that flowed from Jesus into the man on his knees in front of Jesus.
Conclusion:
The Touch of the Master's Hand by Myra Brooks Welch (as told by JD Sumner)
Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
What am I bid, good people, he cried,
Who starts the bidding for me?
One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?
Two dollars, who makes it three?
Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,
But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said What now am I bid for this old violin?
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?
Two thousand, Who makes it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone, said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
We just don't understand.
What changed its' worth?
Swift came the reply.
The Touch of the Masters Hand.
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
