Dear Theophilus,
I wish I could know the feeling of
standing before Jesus, of hearing him teach and being able to decide whether or
not to follow based on the tangible reality of Christ before me. I admit my envy for Simon—whatever his
opinion of the man, and I’m sure he had formed one based on how quickly word
traveled about miracle workers, he was able to stand in awe before Jesus
because of a personal experience. You
and I do not have such luxury—we are forced to read accounts of these stories,
but the decision we are called to make is the same as Simon’s, only without the
luxury of our eyes meeting Jesus’. I am
convinced that such an experience would make my decision easy. Perhaps this is wishful thinking on my
behalf, but it’s just so difficult to know what is real and how that relates to
my life.
I wonder what Simon, James and John
expected after they agreed to follow Jesus.
I wonder if they expected life to be one highlight reel after another,
with boats overflowing with fish on every shore and followers constantly
leaving behind boats to follow Jesus. I
wonder if they figured they’d be celebrities, trying to shield Jesus from
throngs of would-be disciples and those in need of healing. I wonder if they knew or expected anything,
or if the power and authority of the man overwhelmed them to the degree that
they were completely unprepared for what might come, knowing only that every
experience was a worthwhile one because of the one that had chosen to follow.
I would imagine the next experience
changed whatever expectations they had.
It might have been easy to think that healings were only the
beginning—that soon the man would be taking over Jerusalem from the Romans—but
in the next instance, they encounter a man with leprosy in some nameless city
they were visiting. While the disciples
may have been inclined to keep their distance, the man bowed so low his face
scraped the ground and begged for Jesus to heal him. He kept repeating the words, “If you choose,”
as though he knew that Jesus had the power to heal him but completely trusted
his wisdom as to whether or not to do so.
Jesus, doing the unthinkable,
stretched out his hand and touched this leper, this outcast of society, this
unclean man, and said only the words, “I choose. Be clean.”
It was as though Jesus had flipped
a switch—immediately, every part of his body was cleansed from this terrible
disease, and the face of the man with leprosy was transformed. Where once had been a face with despair
written in every corner, there was now complete astonishment, and one could
sense the shouts of praise that were welling up within him. Before they could see the light of day,
however, Jesus ordered him not to tell anyone about what had happened to him
and sent him to the nearest priest, that he might, in accordance with the law,
be ritually clean as Moses commanded. He
ordered the man to take an offering as a testimony. I think Jesus could have asked the man to
jump over the nearest house and he would have been prepared to do it, such was
his gratitude.
I don’t know if the man followed
Jesus’ command to tell no one. He may
have tried, but every patch of skin on his body bore witness to Jesus’ healing
power, and I doubt that he could have shielded all of it from curious eyes. Word continued to spread throughout the
country about Jesus’ powers, and the crowds that gathered to hear him speak
only grew, as did the numbers of those wishing for healing from Jesus. I am sure that if I had any condition in
those days, I would bring it to Jesus, in the hopes that I, too, would be made
well. Jesus had to find solitary places
in order to spend time in prayer. It’s
strange to think of Jesus praying if he really is the Son of God—I would have
expected him to have a bit more of a direct line, but maybe he did it to teach
us how important it is. I wish I knew,
Theophilus, the answer to this and every other question. Can you illumine my search, and cast some
light upon this path I walk?
These stories seem to revolve
around the power and authority Jesus has, over the human body, over demons, and
even his authority over these disciples—he calls them in such a way that they
don’t seem to have a desire to cling to the things of old. I wonder where this authority leads, what he
uses it for—to claim power over a city would seem to make the most sense to
me. He could rule Jerusalem—it would be
the healthiest city ever! He could have
healing time once a week. He could
overthrow the Roman empire, or claim any number of titles for himself. Who would oppose him? It is such a curious tale, a story of a man
born in poverty who has riches that we cannot understand, yet that amaze
us. Even the wealthiest man alive seems
like he would be captivated by this man.
And yet, as I mentioned earlier, it is so difficult to wrestle with the
truth of the story, with its impact on me, today. Is it more than just a good story of a great
man? Or is that enough?
Sincerely,
Luke
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