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Text: Mark 2:1-12
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7th Sunday after Epiphany Something Old,
Something New In the
name of him who is making all things new, dear friends in Christ: People are funny. On one hand, we are naturally pulled toward
what is old and comfortable. We like
antiques, family heirlooms, covered bridges, and old houses filed with
charm. When admiring an item made long
ago, we express our appreciation by saying, “They just don’t make them like
that anymore.” And on a day to day
basis, we have our old standards: we
have our favorite meals, favorite movies, favorite books, and who knows what
else; and we would be mighty angry if anyone attempted to change or improve
them. We like them as they are. And we have our standard routines, and we sure
don’t like to see them upset. And this
is true regardless of how old you are.
We sometimes think of elderly people as being set in their ways; but as
anyone who’s ever had to deal with a preschooler will tell you, there are
certain things that you simply dare not change about their daily rituals. They’ll let you know in an instant that you’re
not doing it right. So, like I said, we
are naturally drawn to what is old and tried and true. And yet, at
the same time, we like new things. We are
attracted to the latest gadgets and fads, the most current, cutting edge
technology, and the newest and best of whatever it is from treatment options
when we’re sick to the cars we drive. We
quickly grow tired and bored with “the same old thing” all the time. We fear “getting stuck in a rut”. We’re always on the lookout for that something
new and original that we’re convinced will change our lives for the better; but
almost as soon as we obtain it, it becomes as uninteresting as everything else
in the old toy box. We have an insatiable
appetite to be entertained and amused, and feeding it takes a steady flow of
new talent and fresh ideas; but after you’ve heard a joke or seen an act, it
isn’t funny anymore; so we ask whoever it is that’s trying to be worthy of our
attention, “What have you got that’s new?
Show me something different.” So we
live in this strange tension having both a partiality and an aversion for both the old and the new. Did I mention
that people are funny? Anyway, I bring all
this up because we see this strange tension particularly evident in the way
people respond to the ministry of Jesus that we have been going over throughout
the Epiphany season. You may recall a
few weeks back, we heard the story of how Jesus began his public teaching in a
synagogue in We saw
that at the same time, Jesus also launched his healing ministry that was
largely intended to confirm the authority of what he had to say. I mean, if you were listening to him teach
and thought, “This is all very interesting … but this new stuff he’s saying,
how can it be right? That’s not the way
we were taught. This isn’t what I heard
it growing up. What gives him the right
to say all these new things? How can I
be sure he’s explaining it right?” Well,
if you then saw him drive a demon out of a person, cure a few lepers, give
sight so some blind people, and so on, you’d have to conclude that he must be
doing something right because surely God was working through him. The miracles bore witness to the truthfulness
of the words he taught. Ah, but
the miracles themselves were something new and novel too. And let’s face it: in the eyes of the crowd they were a whole
lot more flashy and appealing to watch than just sitting there listening to him
teach regardless of how fresh and thought-provoking his sermons were. And so what we’ve been seeing over the past
couple weeks is how the hype and excitement over the miracles performed by
Jesus began to eclipse his teaching ministry in the minds of the people. Last week we heard how it got so bad that
Jesus was unable to enter the towns and villages. Whenever he tried he was immediately swamped
by thrill seekers who couldn’t care less about what he had to say, they only
wanted to watch him do miracles. So, in
order to continue teaching, Jesus had to go to remote, uninhabited places. That cut down on some of the thrill-seeking;
but still people came from all over to go to wherever he was. So it is
that today we find him back in The
moment the thrill seekers have been waiting for arrives when four men come to
the house carrying a paralyzed man on a stretcher. But no one is about to give up his precious
space where he can see what’s going on to let them through – even though for
most of them it’s miracles that they’ve come to see. (Kind of ironic, isn’t it?) But the reluctance of the crowd to “make a
hole” for them doesn’t stop the intrepid stretcher bearers who hit upon the
idea of going in through the top. Soon
the man is being lowered through a hole they’ve literally dug through the roof,
and he’s gently laid before Jesus. A
hush falls over the crowd as the level of expectation rises to astronomical
levels. They watch in rapt attention as
Jesus smiles at the helpless, immobile man.
He raises his hand over him. Here
comes the moment they’ve all been waiting for … …
And Jesus disappoints them. Instead of putting
on a spectacular show by healing the man’s paralysis and raising him up with
miraculous power, Jesus simply says to him, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” What a let down for the crowd! That’s not what they came here to see. More than that, it crosses the line into
blasphemy. The Bible scholars present
are deeply offended at his words. “Only
God can forgive sins”, they think to themselves. “Where does he get off saying something like
that?” So it’s vital to see this: everyone there is either offended by Jesus,
disappointed by Jesus, or both at the same time. Obviously he doesn’t know much about
capturing people’s hearts and imaginations, or how to win friends and influence
people – or if he does, he sure isn’t applying it now. What’s he up to? The answer is simple: he’s fulfilling the purpose for which he
came. God’s Son did not come into this
world to make us all healthy and strong.
He didn’t come to take away cancer, heart disease, or any other of the
leading causes of death. He didn’t come
to give us happy marriages, fine homes, lucrative careers, or a sense of
accomplishment. He didn’t come to
entertain us. He came for a far nobler
and infinitely more difficult to achieve purpose. He came to take away our sin. He came to take the penalty of our sin upon
himself, to suffer and die on our behalf, so that by God’s grace we could be
forgiven and reconciled to our Father in Heaven. That
is the mighty work of God he came to do – and the way he does it, or rather,
the way we receive the benefit of his work for us on the cross, is through his
Word. That is to say, when he says we
are forgiven of our sins, we are. That’s
the miracle. That’s the most powerful
and profound miracle you will ever witness, for by it the Lord Jesus delivers
from death and hell and gives eternal life and joy. And
once again, to prove the authority of what he says, he performs the lesser
miracle of restoring this paralyzed man’s physical strength and motion. He does the little miracle, the one that can
be seen, to prove his claim to do the far greater miracle that cannot be
seen. The lesser miracle in this story
he performs for just one man. But the
greater miracle he does for all who hear his voice. The lesser miracles in general he performed
during his ministry didn’t last.
Everyone healed by Jesus – even those he raised from the dead – they all
got sick, injured, crippled, diseased again.
They all died. But the greater
miracle lasts forever. The thing to see
is that each one of us is in a spiritual sense the paralyzed man. We can do nothing to help ourselves. Nothing we do can ever take our sin
away. But it’s is mankind’s oldest and
worst problem. It is, in a very real
sense, the only problem: everything else
we suffer is merely a symptom of sin. By
his Word, his new Word spoken in view of his sacrifice on the cross, Jesus
takes the old sin problem away. The
people gathered around Jesus when he performed the miracle in our story were
astonished. They praised God and said,
“We have never seen anything like this!”
They weren’t talking about the little miracle. They had all seen Jesus do similar things. It was becoming old hat. No, what amazed them was that Jesus had the
power and authority to forgive sins.
That blew their minds. That’s
what was new and astounding. And
it still is today. People sometimes ask
me, “Why doesn’t Jesus perform healing miracles today?” The answer is that he does. He routinely performs the greatest healing miracle
in his ministry. He does it today
whenever his Word of forgiveness is heard.
Earlier in this service you witnessed the miracle. It happened to you. When you confessed your sins and I replied,
“Almighty God has given his Son to die for you and for his sake forgives you
all your sins. As a called and ordained
servant of the Word”, that is, speaking in the name and authority of Jesus
himself, “I forgive you all your sins.”
The miracle happened. You didn’t
see it. Maybe you didn’t feel it. But as sure as Christ is raised from the dead
and lives and reigns forever, it happened.
It will happen again in this service a bit later when you kneel at the
communion rail and receive to yourself the body and blood of the Lord given and
shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins.
Jesus will be present giving you himself to grant you forgiveness and
eternal life. It really is absolutely
astounding. But
unfortunately for us it has become old hat.
Though it is the greatest of God’s miracles and certainly the one we need
the most, we aren’t thrilled by it any more – at least not most of the
time. We’ve experienced it so many times
that we take it for granted. The Good
News of the Gospel has become old news; old, tired, worn out … boring. Someone gave me this news article last
week. It’s about a Lutheran church in
the But I
wonder … the title of this article is “Repackaging Worship”; but as I read
through it, they never really mentioned the Gospel. All they talked about was the exciting new
package. And I fear that what’s really
going on here is that the Gospel is being eclipsed by the package they say
they’re putting it in; that people are coming for the hype, the excitement, the
entertainment, to see something new, rather than for what they need: the old and visually unspectacular miracle by
which Jesus forgives sins. And I’m
not just holding up this congregation for attack; rather I think that all of us
are subject to the same kind of misdirected thrill seeking. We’d rather be entertained with spectacle and
humor than listen to the teaching of Jesus.
We’d rather have our favorite songs in the style that we like than the powerful
teaching hymns of the church. And when
we get what we need rather than what we came to see and experience, like the
people in the story, we get offended and disappointed. Worse, because of our discontent, we often
miss the power and impact of the miracle that Christ is here to work upon us. That’s what we’re here for: to deal with an old problem, to have worked
upon us an old miracle – an old miracle that is perhaps not so spectacular to
watch, but that is new and powerful every time we experience it. But more than that, the real power of this
old miracle is the continuing creation of a new you. We come here like the paralyzed man, after a
week of moral failures and giving in to our sinful weakness. As a result we are spiritually diseased and
disabled, unable to stand or feed ourselves or anything else. And if we can’t help ourselves, we sure can’t
help others. But when Christ Jesus
speaks to us, when he teaches us through the Scripture or a sermon such as
this, and when he announces his Word of forgiveness, we are cleansed of all sin
and are filled with his power to rise up and walk in his way. By his powerful old Words we are given new
and righteous life in him. As the
Scripture says, “If any man is in Christ, he is a new creation.” That should be what draws us: not to see what’s new, but to hear what’s old so that we can be made new. May our gracious Lord grant us the wisdom to
always pursue that goal. In Jesus’ name. Amen Soli Deo Gloria! |