Transformation at The Fringe: The Healing of The Demoniac

I have a secret to tell you. I have decided I don’t fully grasp what the word favorite means. I have 3 favorite drinks at Starbucks. Two favorite colors. Two favorite candy bars. And if you were to ask me to tell you my favorite story of Jesus’ healing, I may lose count. This story is one of those.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid in Hawaii, we saw quite a bit of mental illness. I am not sure if it was because of the type of social services programs that we ran or if we were a magnet for the most severely and persistently mentally ill folks in town, but the mental illness we saw tended to run towards the rare, extreme end of the extreme end of the spectrum. From men insisting they were Jesus to women with physically impossible physical ailments and celebrities insisting on fire walks on our properties; we saw it all.

That background ignited a passion for a career in mental health in my heart. Over the following decades, I spent my time working with individuals living with severe and persistent mental illness (across the age, gender, and illness spectrum). During that time, I saw many an individual who, despite medication and best efforts, continued to suffer some of the most severe symptoms, preventing them from being integrated back into their community.

If we look at Mark 5:1-20, we can see a story of someone in that exact situation. The man from Gerarsene was described as having behavior would have met the historical Judaic criteria for what then would have been called insanity. This man spent all His time in the graveyard. He had destroyed his clothes and belongings. He is described to have broken the chains that the townspeople used to shackle and attempt to control Him. This was a man struggling. This was a man on the fringe.

Let’s look at the scripture passage:

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes.2 And when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. 3 He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, 4 for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. 5 Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones. 6 And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him. 7 And crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” 8 For he was saying to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” 9 And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” 10 And he begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. 11 Now a great herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside, 12 and they begged him, saying, “Send us to the pigs; let us enter them.” 13 So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the sea." 14 The herdsmen fled and told it in the city and in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. 15 And they came to Jesus and saw the demon-possessed man, the one who had had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they were afraid. 16 And those who had seen it described to them what had happened to the demon-possessed man and to the pigs. 17 And they began to beg Jesus to depart from their region. 18 As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him. 19 And he did not permit him but said to him, “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” 20 And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled. (ESV)



Oh, my word. What a story. I get chills every time I read it!

Dear one, can we start with looking at the verse six? Now, I have another confession. If you asked my sister, she would tell you that I am a total Bible Geek. I can have long, in depth conversations about the original Greek (that one is for you, Baby sis), historical context, literal versus symbolic translation, etc. But I know that most of that is not want, none the less need. But here, it is important. When we look at this passage, we have to understand the context.

The story is about a man who lived in an area that had been ravaged. Roman soldiers and Jewish men had both taken turns slaughtering and destroying the town the man came from. There is every chance that this man was demonstrating a severe traumatic response (or the trauma was contributing at the very least). The passage describes a man completely consumed and victimized by a force outside of His control. Then...Jesus. He sees Jesus. There is every chance he had never heard the name of Jesus. Ever. If He was truly possessed, the odds of being drawn to Jesus seem unlikely. And if caught in the storm of mental illness, it is easy to believe that his symptoms might cause him to miss this moment. But none of those things are true. He sees Jesus. What does he do? He doesn’t ask to see Jesus. He doesn’t ask for an appointment. He doesn’t calmly walk. No, he RUNS to Jesus. Y’all, how amazing! In pain and desperation, broken, and weak, he sees Jess and he recognizes Jesus’ authority.

Once he reaches Jesus, he falls prostrate and then asks not to be tormented. Now, y’all, this is huge. We will never know whether this was truly a case of demonic possession, mental illness, or facing demons of our own making. What we can see is that this is the reality that this man came to know. This man who has been tormented for far to long (by the “demons” and the townspeople, and likely soldiers and others who raided the area) threw himself at the mercy at the one who he believed would heal him and THEN asked only not to be tortured how he had before. What faith! And what a great reminder...how often do we hesitate to approach the throne of God, afraid that healing will come with a to do list, forgetting that His grace comes without fine print?

What does Jesus do in response to this? In a way that will always blow me away, He not only ensures he is caring for this man’s spiritual needs, but also his emotional needs. He meets him where he is...He commanded the demons to leave and then asked the man’s name. The “demons” respond to Jesus, stating “My name is Legion, for we are many.” (Mark 5:9 ESV). 

What happens next is huge...the man asks that Jesus not send them out of the area. Now, here is where I need to side step back to Bible Geekdom. There are a lot of theologians out there who have speculated about this particular part of the passage. One theory is that it is a geopolitical reference to the Roman soldiers (a legion was 6,000 Roman soldiers). Another theory was that “Legion” was a symbolic reference to the townspeople and that the man was asking that Jesus not cast them out of the area. Other theories argue that it is symbolic of the demons we all face every day. 

Regardless of what “Legion” was, it was something that this man was familiar and comfortable with. The man reached out to Jesus and asked that Legion not be cast away. The man worried about the welfare of Legion. Jesus saw this need, and when the demons begged to be cast into the swine nearby, Jesus complied.

Strange, right? A group of demons asks for something and Jesus does it? And what happens next? The swine cause total mayhem, destroying the town.

For most, this is a real struggle. In Jesus’ effort to heal this man, He created the destruction of the town (a town that had been destroyed over and over again). He killed what was believed to be close to 2,000 swine (a large amount for the herdsman). He used what would have been one of the most unclean creatures to heal this man. This did not have the earmarks of being “good”. 

Dear one, can we look at Luke 15:4?

“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? (ESV)


Can I tell you what I think? However hard it is to digest, Jesus’ use of the swine, knowing it would cause destruction (yes, I know that Jesus knew in advance), shows us that Jesus can use even the most ugly, base, dirty and broken feeling pieces of our lives. 

Dear one, this is important. So often we believe that there is no way that God can fix what happened. That we can’t do ________ (fill in the blank with what you believe you aren’t good enough for) because our past is filled with something to dark and ugly for God to use it. But like casting the demons into the swine, who destroy a town before running off a cliff and drowning, God can use the pieces we deem broken and ugly to make something beautiful and new.

Dear one...can I tell you what happens next?

He is healed!


This man living so far on the fringe that it isn’t on the map (actually, there is historical debate about exactly where it would have happened!!!), and he was healed!

Then...Jesus sends him home. He tells him to go tell others of what God has done for him.

Dear one, today, I don’t know where you are at. I don’t know what burdens you are carrying. But maybe, just maybe, today, you can take comfort in the story of a man tormented, naked, living in a cemetery, healed, and turned missionary by the healing power of Jesus. Maybe you can consider the possibility that the grace extended to a man that would have been considered so unclean that no Jewish person would have gone near him (he was naked and living amongst the dead) also exists for you.

In Love,

JB





PS, as always, don’t forget that you can grab your journal page here!









Sources used:

https://www.biblicaltraining.org/library/gerasenes




https://digitalcommons.csbsju.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=&httpsredir=1&article=1116&context=obsculta




https://bibleatlas.org/gerasa.htm

Transformation At The Fringe: The Woman Who Bled

Happy November, dear one! We are glad to have you back! When last we spoke, we left off with the healing of the man with the withered hand.

As I have said, it is hard to find someone who isn’t moved by a powerful story of transformation. There are countless shows dedicated to just this.

There are a few transformation stories, however, that are quite as radical as the story I want to talk to you about today. 

Today, I want to talk to you about the woman healed from 12 years of bleeding. Before we can talk about her story, however, we need to talk about the times she lived in. 

Without the back story, the transformation isn’t much more than polish and feel-goodness. 

Without understanding the circumstances the woman who bled faced, we cannot understand the enormity and awe-inspiring power of what happened in her life when Jesus healed her.

First...while menstruation and uterine bleeding was historically an area of life relegated to women only, this story is just as important for the guys reading with us, for a couple of reasons. You see, while this is a story about a woman who had lived with uterine bleeding for 12 years, it is also a story about a person that was living a life that was considered so unclean and on the fringe that it is hard to imagine how they would have survived this long.

More importantly, this is a story about a person who knew what their society believed about them, their uncleanness and unworthiness, and were so positive that they could live life anew that they risked everything to have a chance to be transformed.

There is not a lot that we know about what a woman’s normal menstrual cycle would have looked like at this point in history. In large part, this is because history lives on in writing and men were the ones taught to write at this point. Aristotle and Hippocrates both wrote (approximately 400-300 BCE) about menstruation to some degree. With that said, little was understood about the frequency and function of menstruation (and would not be written about in further detail for quite some time). This lack of information created much mystery and attitudes varied vastly based on the culture. How a woman may have cared for herself during menstruation (pads/tampons/menstrual cups) is also unclear. What is clear is that women at this time, in this place, were not fully integrated members of society. For a group that was already dependent on men to provide food and shelter, in a time where women were already required to be sent away for seven days during menstruation; a woman living with 12 years of uterine bleeding would have been so far on the fringe, it is hard for our minds to reconcile it.

We don’t know much about this woman; and yet, we know everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.

We know that there is no mention of a husband, family, or other connections. This makes sense in light of the level of exclusion she would have faced. We know she spent everything she had in desperate pursuit of medical care, and not only did she not get better, she got worse (Mark 5:26). 

We know she was ill. Profoundly. While history doesn’t hold the best recording of menstruation throughout time, we know that there is every chance menstrual cycles did not occur monthly for women at that time because of lack of appropriate/sufficient nutrition. On top of nutrition that would have made her vulnerable (worsened, likely, because of her isolation from the rest of society), she was likely (very) anemic after bleeding for twelve years. 

We know she was part of the crowd that had followed Jesus. She would have been present when Jesus healed the man at Gerasenes. She was following as Jesus was making His way to heal Jairus’ daughter. This means that not only was she so filled with emotional strength and determination that she followed a man she had heard about, she was willing to risk it all. Simply being out and about in society would have been unacceptable. 

I should stop here. To say that she “was unclean” was a term we have more or less become familiar and comfortable with. That said, it fails to capture the true nature of what the word really meant (and as such, conveyed). The word that we so often refer to as “unclean” is actually derived from tame' in Hebrew. This would not have simply meant unclean, it would have meant that something much stronger, something to the effect of ethically and religiously impure or foul in a religious sense:—defiled. This was no minor thing. 

Most importantly, we know that this woman had AMAZING faith. She had heard about this man who was transforming people. She believed that if she were just able to get close enough, if she could touch the hem of his garment, she would be healed.

Let’s look at the passage in Mark (starting a bit before we see her enter the scene so we can appreciate the gravity of this story):


21 And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. 22 Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet 23 and implored him earnestly, saying, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live." 24 And he went with him. And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. 25 And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, 26 and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. 28 For she said, "If I touch even his garments, I will be made well." 29 And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30 And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my garments?" 31 And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, 'Who touched me?'" 32 And he looked around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. 34 And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." (ESV)



Can we just start here, in verses 27 and 28?

“She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, "If I touch even his garments, I will be made well."

Let me tell you, if I have not said it before, I don’t do change well. At all. So much so that I drive over an hour to see the doctor I have had for a decade (actually, our entire family does). Now, while that seems like a pretty massive inconvenience for me, it is worth it, I have a car (as does my husband), our kids love her as much as I do, She is in network, etc. That hour is worth it because we trust the care she gives. This woman, who had absolutely no resources (as in none, not she didn’t have a car and a bank account), simply heard how amazing Jesus was and followed Him in search of healing. Talk about faith (it seems unimaginable to a person who cannot manage to switch a new doctor that is in town).

Did you see what happened next? She was healed.

Let me repeat that.

SHE.WAS.HEALED.

Not a bit later. Not after she asked. Immediately. She believed and she sought Jesus, and she was healed on the spot.

It would be easy to leave off there. I mean, this was no small thing. She immediately was made whole. But if we didn’t keep reading, we would miss so much.

“And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my garments?" And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, 'Who touched me?’ And he looked around to see who had done it.”

Now, I have to start by saying that when I read that Jesus immediately sensed what had happened, turned around, and asked who touched His garments, two thoughts scream in my head. First, I think about my daily life. As a mom of four, there are a lot of times when managing the chaos feels like a task for a small army. In a crowd, I feel the panic of not knowing where each of them are, because I know that there are so many distractions that I could not possibly track it all. Yet Jesus immediately knew.

Second, He turns and questions who touched His garment. This is probably one of my favorite miracles of Jesus, so while I have read it (in each of the four gospels), I always was a little puzzled by Him asking who touched His garments. Was he making a point that the woman needed to admit her faith? Was he making a statement to the crowd? He had to know, right? Going back to that Mom of four thing...there are a lot of times when I ask my children who did something, knowing the answer the whole time. I always have a reason, the question is never unintentional. 

It is in reading the totality of that exchange, and also reading the story in Matthew 9 of Jesus healing the Paralytic, that I got an idea. See, in that story, it is clear that Jesus knew the thoughts of the scribes. Not only that, He responded to those thoughts aloud. 

With that in mind, can we take a second look at that exchange?


“And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my garments?" And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, 'Who touched me?'"


At this point, the disciples had given up a lot to follow Jesus. They had witnessed more than one miracle. Yet we read example after example when they say “but, are you sure, Jesus?”

This amazing woman had followed a crowd, risking everything. She didn’t ask. There was not hesitation. She knew she would be healed, and she was. Yet the men who had done the same kept doubting and questioning at every turn.

What does this beautiful woman, now healed, do? I would assume she could have remained silent. It would have been a lot safer...after all, a woman who was an outcast raising her hand and saying “yeah, that was me”? Not the most likely answer you would expect. And yet that is exactly what she did. 

And here is where it is the most beautiful. Here is where it is so amazing that I can barely contain myself. How did Jesus respond?


“And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease."


Now, once more, it could be easy to overlook this. But y’all, this is the most beautiful part. This woman had been an outcast for 12 years. Let that sink in. If she had been married, she was likely divorced by her husband a long time ago. She was impure, ethically and religiously. Her life was so in the fringe, we cannot even fathom it. She had lived in utter desolation and desperation. She searched and followed Jesus looking to be healed physically. Did that happen? Definitely. But Jesus healed her in a way that she never could have imagined. He made her whole. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.

She stepped out in a kind of faith that I cannot even imagine, and she was made complete. She was seen. She was loved.

Dear one, today, will you join me in stepping out in faith like this woman? Maybe the hurt you are carrying is physical. Perhaps it is emotional. It could be your finances, or an addiction, or anything else. Whatever the pain, you have come to believe you are unclean. Beyond unclean. You have told yourself that you are so broken that there is nothing left for you. But dear one, there is One who is there...One who so desires to make you whole that He would give anything, including Himself, just for you. Will you join me following Him and finding our healing?

In Love,

JSB


PS: As always, you can grab your journal page here!

Also...I made quite a few assertions in this article and would never want to not give credit where it is due!

http://biblebb.com/files/KSS/kss-bleedingwoman.htm

http://www.womenpriests.org/traditio/unclean.asp

https://www.medicaldaily.com/menstrual-period-time-month-history-387252

http://www.wondersandmarvels.com/2013/02/the-history-of-menstruation.html

http://psychistofwomen.umwblogs.org/menstruation/early-theories/

http://www.mum.org/germnt5.htm

http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/wlgr/wlgr-medicine339.shtml

http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/wlgr/wlgr-medicine356.shtml

http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/wlgr/wlgr-medicine358.shtml

https://www.blueletterbible.org/lang/lexicon/lexicon.cfm?Strongs=H2931&t=RSV

http://www.womeninthescriptures.com/2016/02/what-does-it-mean-for-woman-to-be.html

Shattering The Silence

It is October.  That means that more than likely, other that pumpkin spice everything, you have seen purple ribbon and red silhouettes everywhere.  Or maybe you haven't seen them or noticed them. It can be easy to lose track in what can often seem like a sea of awareness months.  According to RAINN, Every 98 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted.  That means that there is a good chance that by the time your kiddo has let you read this far, someone has become a victim.

The National Center Against Domestic Violence reports that roughly 20 people every seconds are physically abused by an intimate partner (equaling 10 million in a year), adding that 1 in 7 women and 1 in 18 women believed they (or someone close to them) would be harmed or killed, and that just the presence of a gun increased the odds of homicide by 500%.

Of course, many of us know this.  It is not a surprise.  Many of us are way too familiar.  We have a friend, a family member, a neighbor, or someone we know from church/book club/the gym/fill in the blank who has experienced domestic violence. 

Or maybe we are that person.

Today, dear one, I want to be real with you. 

Today, I want to break the silence. 

 I want to shatter into as many small pieces that it can never be put back together.

I was that person.

I was in my early 20's and had met this guy leaving work.  We took the same route every day, so we had a chance to talk.  He was smart, funny, charismatic.  He had an amazing way of covering the walking dumpster fire that was his life.  He asked me to coffee, so I figured, why not?  Public place, lots of folks around...it was perfect!

We went out for coffee and hit it off.  He was a little older than I was, and was a hot mess; but at that point in my life, so was I.  I had reached max burnout in the mental health field and needed a break; so I was trying to find myself (and consuming a lot of vodka, tequila, rum, wine, beer alcohol of all varieties in the process).

At first everything was fantastic.  We would hang out and talk about philosophy. Religion. Politics. Life.  We would just chat. 

Early on, he asked me if I was “cool” (aka did drugs).  I told him no, and when he asked if I was cool with him using while I was there, I also said no.  In the beginning, he told me totally understood and respected the boundary.  And then he started getting high in front of me.  The first night he told me it was "just a little pot" and I was making a big deal of nothing.  I let it slide.  I mean, it was “just pot”, right? I was being ridiculous, right? (For all of you jumping up and down and arguing that there is no difference between alcohol and cannabis/it has medical benefit/etc., take a deep breath, this is not that post).

This was the first step.

Over the next few weeks he demanded I spend more and more time with him.  If I wasn’t there, he would insist I was cheating.  He started doing harder drugs when I was at his house.  Finally, one night, high on a combination of God only knows how many drugs, he choked me.  I was not sure if I would survive.  The second he let go (read: blacked out, high as a kite), I grabbed my keys and ran.

The weeks that followed included the typical pattern.  Calls, text massages, apologies, begging for forgiveness (bordering on anger).  Then he told me he was struggling so I am came back out (he knew this was a struggle for me).  We were together for another two weeks before he started hitting me, threatening me, doing drugs, and choking me.  I told him I was done and nothing would change that.


Then came January 3rd.

You know, I always heard the statistic that it takes, on average, 7 times before a victim will successfully leave their abuser.  I never understood...women who survived domestic violence were some of the strongest people I had met (I grew up volunteering helping women in DV situations). 

On January 3rd, I found out.

That night, he called me, just like before.  He told me that everything was falling apart and that he needed my help.  He said he needed a ride.  He insinuated that he was suicidal and needed to talk to.  I tried every way I could to get out of it.  I knew deep down that something was wrong.... very, very wrong with this.  But finally, I gave in to his feigned desperation. 

As I got there, I saw multiple people.  At least five guys.  Everyone was doing drugs.  It was clear that I had not been told the truth.  I tried to leave, but one of the guys blocked the door and gave me a drink.  Despite my protests, he told me to have a drink and by the time I was done, my ex would be "done" and ready to go.

That night, I was he and four of his friends held me hostage.

That night, they gang raped me

That night I was tortured and almost died.

But I did not die.  I survived.  And it took me a long time to realize that I did not survive to let him silence me any longer.  Back then, I had no voice.  Speaking out was not safe.

Today, it is different.

If you in an unsafe situation, find someone you can trust and tell them.  Tell them regardless of whether you are ready to leave.  Ask them to help you get to a DV shelter to create a safety plan (these can address notification, guns in the house, etc.). And know that you are stronger than you ever believe.  That does not change if you go back.

If you are a friend of someone whom you believe may be in an unsafe situation, first.  I would not recommend coming out and saying "is your partner abusing you"...that often shuts things down.  But conversations about feeling safe at home are important.  Feel free to approach it in a couple of ways, but also know that you have planted a seed.  Make sure they know you love and care about them and want to help however you can.  That way, if they feel ready to talk later, they will know you are a resource.

There are absolutely somethings that you should never say to a domestic violence victim.  These include:

1. I cannot imagine.  They were always so nice to Me!
2. Are you sure it is really domestic violence? Everyone fights!
3. Did you provoke them?
4. Are you just doing this for attention?
5. I know you have a (fill in the blank, drinking, drugs, etc.) problem.  Are you sure this isn't just a distraction?

6. Have you prayed for the situation to improve?

7. Have you talked to your pastor about marital counseling?

8. Have you tried being more responsive to their needs?

Things you can absolutely do to help a victim of domestic violence:

1.Take them to the library.  Many offenders track their computer usage, so having access to something they cannot view the history of is very important when they are trying to leave (In the planning phase)
2. Listen.  Make sure they know that they are believed, loved, and supported.
3. Express concerns about safety and discuss options but do not decide for them victims of domestic violence are trying to get of a situation in which they already have a person ruling their life.  You don't want to be another.
4. Provide transportation to wherever they need to go if they choose to leave.  Also, if you can, have a little go bag for your friend (and kids).  Toothbrush/toothpaste, pads/tampons, incontinence supplies (if needed) diapers, face wipes (these are available at almost every store at every price level), coloring books and crayons, etc.  These things don't end because of the hell they are living through, but they are the creature comforts that make us feel just a bit better.



In Peace & Love

JSB

Transformation at the Fringe: The Man With The Withered Hand

Welcome back, dear one! We left off yesterday, talking about the crazy, messy, overflowing love of Jesus. 

Now, I am not sure about you, but if your life is anything like mine, you have people who you who you love, and maybe even like. That said, no matter how much you love this person, showing them that love isn’t always easy. Maybe they are really independent and won’t let you help them (for those of you not sitting with me right now, I am raising my hand and laughing, and trying to stay quiet lest I wake a sleeping house). Perhaps the person is hard to understand. There may be miles between you. Whatever the reason is, no matter how much you want to love and serve that person, the timing is just not right.

This whole timing thing, it wasn’t a concern for Jesus. Jesus was a person of urgency. He knew His time was limited. So things happened when they happened. Period.

We can see this in Mark 3:1-5

“Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there with a withered hand. And they watched Jesus, to see whether he would heal him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man with the withered hand, “Come here.” And he said to them, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. And he looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart, and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.”(ESV)

Y’all, that is one powerful passage. Like, mountains moving powerful.


There are two audiences, and a whole lot of amazingness in this passage, so can we break it down, verse by verse?


In Mark 3:1, the scene is set for us. Jesus enters the synagogue. Jesus notes a man with a withered hand. 

According to the prominent archeologist Arthur Evans, this withered hand was was conveyed using the Greek word xeros. This is loosely defined as dry, with reference to land. In this context, it likely referred to “infantile paralysis”. Some have said this may have been what we know now as poliomyelitis or polio meningitis. This can cause atrophy to the muscles and create a deformity of the limb.

Now, I know this feels like a lot of conversation for one small detail, but hang with me for a second. Given that this man likely contracted an illness in early childhood that caused a permanent deformity, this would have made him unable to work, and therefore dependent on others for support. This would have been a man living on the fringe.

This man, he is our first audience in the passage.

Where do we always find Jesus? Pouring out love on those living at the fringe.

In verse 2, we see our second audience. The Pharisees have gathered. They see Jesus enter...they catch this man living at the fringe. Jesus sees him, but knows why he has everyone’s attention. They want to see if Jesus is going to heal on the Sabbath. They are collecting proof to make their case against Jesus.

And, y’all, Jesus never fails...He feels all eyes on Him, and in verse 3 tells the man with the withered hand to come forward. This is significant. He is making a public statement.

As the story unfolds, we see the real reason for the crowd in verse 4. The Pharisees hurl accusations poorly disguised as questions. Can you heal on the Sabbath? Seems innocent, right? Jesus, however, knows what they are really saying. He answers them with a different question...is it better to be evil and stand by doing nothing, or should the life be saved. They are silenced. 

Now verse 5...this is where the magic really happens. We see the love of Jesus come out in the form of something we don’t typically associate with Jesus. Anger...and when I say anger, I mean righteous indignation. Jesus sees this crowd, silenced, wanting to set Him up, willing to disregard this man in need as prop in their game. He sees hearts hardened. Souls tied to rules and law, rather than love. And then, Jesus returns to audience one...our man with the withered hand...and commands him to stretch out his hand. And he was healed.

Y’all, let me say that again. 

HE.WAS.HEALED.

This miracle is beautiful, complex, and significant for so many reasons. That said, I want to focus on one area...how Jesus met this man where he was. While this man was not only disabled (making him dependent on others), his disability was visible. There was no covering it. There is reference to it being his right hand (in Luke). This is significant because the right hand, in this time, because sitting at the right hand was considered the place of honor, left handedness was considered less honorable. The love of Jesus not only restored the use of a limb previously not usable, it freed him from disability and dependence, and restored him to a place of honor.

He was at the fringe. And then he was restored. He was made whole. And he was a new creation through the love of Jesus.

Dear ones, I don’t know about you, but there are times, when I feel like the man with the withered hand. Maybe our disabilities are different. Maybe they are not physical. Maybe they are not disabilities at all.

Maybe...just maybe, you have a dependency forcing you to be dependent on others in many ways. Addiction. Depression. Maybe it is a sin you feel is unforgivable...a sin that has left you unable to survive in wholeness on your own.

Dear ones, please hear me when I say, Jesus is waiting for you. Even if the throng of judgment around you is screaming, He is there. He sees you. And he has commanded you to take the leap of faith you didn’t think was possible, and believe He will heal you.

Dear one, stretch out your hand. He is waiting.

In Love, JSB

PS: As always, don’t forget to snag your journal page here!

A Messy Love: Transformation At the Fringe

Oh dear ones, welcome back. Our house has been a place of chaos and craziness. In the midst of a lot of calamity, I have spent time resting in the presence of the Father, and reflecting. But rest comes to an end and God has poured out His love and it is overflowing. God is good, y’all. God is good.

A wave of sickness hit our household about a month ago. It started with my littlest one, and within days, the oldest was sick. Cool, I thought. We should be through this quickly. This bug will move on in a week. 

Oh, how simple things seem when we think we can see the future.

As fate would have it, the two had different bugs (the joys of multiple schools). As the days passed, the kids seemed to get one bug and then the other. Then it morphed into some superbug. One by one, the kids got worse. The first was my littlest...a temperature of almost 104 and not responding to tylenol and ibuprofen...off to the ER we went (doctor’s orders). Diagnosis: Kidney Infection. Next up the bookends...my first and third. Upper respiratory infection and ear infection for both. Kiddo number two rounded out the month of yuck with bronchitis and pink eye. And Dad and Mom both landed on antibiotics for pneumonia (me to start, him to finish). Within a month, we had four sick littles camped out in our living room, timers set for medications, make-up homework, and a weary Mama. If lysol fumigated houses, I would invite them over. Red carpet and all.

So here I sit. Four littles, finally moving towards wellness. We have rested and healed. Praise God for modern medicine.

There was a time when a story like ours could (and would) have had a different outcome. Without albuterol, antibiotics, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and probiotics, these kids could have faced a totally different outcome. The pause between sick and better….summer and fall...between the heartbeats of life remind me that God’s limitless love and healing never ceases...and sometimes comes in a prescription bottle. 

God’s word is filled with stories of healing. And not the neat, simple, viral respiratory infections.

Stories of a blind man seeing through Him. Of a woman, ostracized, desperate, and bleeding...healed. Stories of freedom from the demons of the emotional and spiritual world. Of people walking after ages of paralysis, of children being restored to health.

His miracles were huge. Life changing. They were love, bursting at the seams...the kind that cannot be contained no matter how desperately you try.

Simply put, His miracles were loud, large, and messy.

Does that sound weird? Humor me for a second. When I think of miraculous love that I encounter daily, I think of my four daughters. If you see us, we are a rowdy, messy, chaotic bunch. There is no containing these four. They are big, messy love.

I think of the beauty of nature. Because I have the fortune of living in the Pacific Northwest, I am blessed with the ability to see mountains, valleys, deserts, oceans, lakes, rivers, and countryside...all in the same State. While God probably didn’t weigh in on drawing the state lines, His hand crafted this small patch of the universe with so much beauty that it literally spills out and cannot be contained.

He has promised us in 2 Corinthians 5:17:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.

The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (ESV)

Dear one, God still moves. He still creates. Has never stopped healing. But before we can really dig into that, will you join me in exploring the stories of how Jesus transformed the lives of those at the fringe?

JSB

PS: Grab your journal page here!

When Silence is Deafening: Choosing Faith When Doubt Makes Sense

Welcome back, dear one! Can I let you in on a secret? I am a bit of a workaholic. I am not totally sure if it is in my personality to be a workaholic (and so I gravitated to those jobs), or I worked in demanding jobs (that turned me into a workaholic). I guess it was probably a little of both. Several years ago, when I was in a particularly demanding part of my career, I often got to the office around 5am (the earliest my keycard would let me into the building). The building was always pitch black (save the emergency lights) and the silence roared. I couldn’t take it. The silence felt awkward. Uncomfortable. Loud. Uncertain. So I listened to music as I worked. Admittedly, this posed a huge risk. I chose to drown out the silence (read: my discomfort) knowing I risked some unsuspecting person finding me and hurting me.

I faced a different kind of silence my sophomore year of college. I was taking Introduction to Christian Theology (a requirement for every student at the Private Christian University I attended). One of our requirements was that we complete a term paper on a topic (any theological topic our professor happened to approve of). There was one topic we had discussed that had caught my attention and I knew that I had to write my paper on it: theodicy. Theodicy is defined by the Christian Apologetics and Research Ministry as:

“Theodicy is the study of the problem of evil in the world. The issue is raised in light of the sovereignty of God. How could a holy and loving God who is in control of all things allow evil to exist? The answer has been debated for as long as the church has existed. We still do not have a definitive answer, and the Bible does not seek to justify God's actions.”

All those days ago, when I was a young college student, I was positive I would find the answer. I eagerly let my professor know my plans by email. Later that day I got an email. I opened it, anticipating nothing much other than “ok, thanks”. Instead, the message asked to talk before she agreed to the topic. I was puzzled. She had taught on the topic, so it could not be an issue of controversy. I scheduled an appointment and moved on.

When the day came, she asked me to shut the door behind me as I came in. This felt oddly out of character her. She was always light and funny, but today she was serious.

“Why do you want write on this topic?”

I explained that I found it interesting in as much detail as I could.

“Ok, but why”

I stopped. A little confused, a little frustrated, I admitted that I didn’t really know.

She asked about past painful experiences. Embarrassed, I told story after story as I sobbed in her leather office chair. Once I stopped, she paused. 

Don’t those pauses feel like an eternity?

“This is going to be a hard topic. You have to be prepared to finish your paper and have no answer.”

I nodded my head in agreement, but internally, I told myself she was wrong. I would be the one who figured it out. Ahhh, the narcissism of youth…

As was predicted, I finished that term with no answer. I finished with more questions I had started with. I finished with every answer I knew of decimated. I finished with silence. When I turned my paper in, I was convinced I had failed. I somehow had failed to find the elusive answer (you can disregard the fact that it has stumped theologians for the ages, but I was sure I would solve it in a semester). When she returned it, I was shocked to see I had not failed it. A grade and “good work”, but nothing else. You can imagine how much failure I felt then!

In life, there is deafening silence all around us. 

Mothers with babies never born or with sick children, crying out to God in prayer, that end up burying their children. 

Children raising each other due to a parent unable to care for them; begging that their parent be healed each night and waking up to the same situation every morning. 

People living in addiction crying out for the cravings to end. 

Spouses being abused, crying out, begging God to change the heart of their abuser. 

Victims of sexual abuse praying for it to end.

Citizens of war-torn countries lifting their voices to the Lord without ceasing, hoping for an end to the violence and bloodshed that rocks their countries.

Friends, families, and loved ones; on their knees, pleading for God to spare their loved one from death, angrily pointing out that the evil live and their loved one is nothing but good.

It feels like everywhere you look, the screaming silence is the norm, and anything but it is a rarity.

When the silence roars, it can feel like there is no way we can ever hear anything or anyone else. It can feel like the silence will never end.

There are always answers offered. Opinions (masked as Biblical knowledge or theology) offered up to cover the silence. Dear one, can we talk about these answers? I think it is so important, because some of them are so (unintentionally) hurtful that they send people running from God.

~God will never give you more than you can handle.

Let's break this one down. First, this assumes that God intentionally brings suffering upon us. An all loving God would need to have a reason to put so much pain upon you. Most argue it is to teach you something, bring you somewhere, or introduce you to someone. 

Dear one, this suggests that God cannot share knowledge or ensure you are where you need to be without creating pain and suffering. It also suggests He knows your breaking point and takes you to the edge, but not over it. This means God is either not all loving or not all powerful; and quite honestly, makes God incredibly cruel.

~God has a plan.

This answer closely resembles the previous answer. This suggests that while God may or may not have been directly involved in the circumstances you are experiencing, He did have foreknowledge, and chose not to intervene. This is due to His “plan”. This is no less cruel than the previous suggestion.

~Suffering is the result of free will.

This is normally the argument that seems the most logical and palatable to the majority of folks.

Dear one, can I rock your world?

This is not much different than what we have discussed so far. If we are to believe that God is all-knowing, all-good, and all-powerful (omniscient, omnibenevolent, and omnipotent), then God would have had the capacity to know that free will would create pain, would have been moved to prevent it (because of His goodness), and would have found a way to create a way in which free will exists and suffering does not.

The reality?

Sometimes, there are not answers. Sometimes, all we are left with is silence. 

Sometimes, when the silence is deafening, the only logical choice seems to be doubt, not faith.

Growing up, my Mom did counted cross stitch. I remember as a young kid, looking at the back the underside of her project. I could see the tangles, the long threads needing trimmed, the weird knotted spots. What I couldn’t see was the other side of her project. But I knew...the other side was always gorgeous. She was gifted, and it was always some beautiful piece of art. I just had to patiently wait until she was done to see the work from the other side.

Dear one, we are looking at life on the ugly, knotted, tangled side. All we can see is the underside of the artwork. But a day is coming. Isaiah 65:17 (ESV) tells us:


“For behold, I create new heavens. and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered. or come into mind.”

Dear one, today, the pain and suffering is real. The answers offered, the promises of a better tomorrow seem hollow. When the silence fills your life, reach out to Him. Scream. At the top of your lungs, scream every single thing on your mind...scream and yell until you can’t speak anymore. And then, listen. 

Back in my days in that office, one day I forgot my headphones. I had to listen to the silence. As I took a deep breath I could hear the clock. I could hear people walking. I could hear people typing. And when I was really still, I could hear my heartbeat.

Dear one, yell until you can’t and then become still. Listen. That is where you will find Him. He has always been there. We just have to remove the headphones and choose faith.

In Love, JSB

PS: Don't forget your journal page here!

https://carm.org/dictionary-theodicy