"If we are sorry for what we have done, and have the honest desire to let God take us to better things, we believe we will be forgiven and will have learned our lesson." Alcoholics Anonymous. page 70.
I have a friend who has a moderate case of cerebral palsy. It affects his ability to walk, talk, and socialize, and it'll never go away. Since he's still able to get around, he can do most of the things anybody else can do except drive. I've known him for a long time, and he's done a lot of great things like help lead the youth program at church, serve communion, and he recently graduated college. He's always enthusiastic about helping other people.
But, I've also witnessed something else that happened over the years. As he got older, he developed this notion that everybody looked at him as a diseased person. He stopped talking in social settings. He started getting really co-dependent with people who he believed didn't see him as a disease. And he started getting really depressed. No matter how much I told him that he wasn't just the sum total of his physical handicaps, he wouldn't and couldn't believe it. His mind was set on the false notion that he was nothing more than a cripple. And that concept brushed through his entire life to the point that he didn't want to live any longer.
Now I don't know what caused him to believe this. Maybe someone did say something hurtful to him. Maybe he had a horrible experience that changed his mindset. I don't know. But, one thing was for sure: you couldn't change his way of thinking no matter what you said.
In his case, the disease of shame became more destructive than the actual disease of cerebral palsy.
And then there was me, an alcoholic. I always thought that if I just quit drinking then my life would be perfect. I wouldn't get into any more trouble. My relationships would all right themselves. I'd feel better about myself. But the opposite was true. Yes, I quit drinking. But, the result was almost more devastating than the worst spree. It turned out that shame had just been waiting for a chance to come out and play for many years. And it definitely got its chance.
No sooner than I took my last drink did the tidal wave of my past misdeeds come flooding through my conscience. It was as if an emotional dam which had been holding back millions of gallons of thoughts finally broke, and the only thing I could use to help break the thoughts was alcohol. Except, I didn't want to drink. There is nothing worse than not drinking and at the same time not knowing how to deal with the emotional dam breakage. It's a living hell and most people don't last long before going back to the tried and true solution of drinking.
In the passage above, we're told a story about a paralyzed boy. Jesus shows up to the boy's town, and some friends take him to Jesus in the hopes that he'll do something, anything.
The first thing to notice is, the boy doesn't say anything. And the friends don't say anything. For some reason, the authors thought it wasn't necessary to insert a dialogue between Jesus and the boy (we'll get to that in a bit).
What does Jesus say when the boy is brought to him?
Take courage son because your sins are forgiven.
Now, among the onlookers are some highly learned Jewish scholars. They've devoted their whole lives to memorizing and obeying the Torah. And, as good Jews would, they view handicaps as a result of "generational sin." There are instances of this concept in other New Testament scriptures as well. This was a widely held view of why humans act the way they act. It was the mainstream religious thought of the time. And one of the byproducts of this way of looking at things was, you were separated from God because of your sins.
And in those days, if you were a paralytic, then the gods really had something against you.
You or your parents must have done something really bad in the sight of the gods.
That's why you're crippled.
I know it sounds archaic and cruel but this was mainstream religious thought. We've advance beyond this sort of thinking, but we still see remnants of it. Current examples would be certain views on depression. Although it's an uncontrollable (without medication) condition, people still blame depression on current or past sins, or something along the lines of a "spiritual sickness."
The second thing we need to notice is, when Jesus tells the boy his sins are forgiven, the religious elites who are watching the whole thing get really angry. They can't believe what Jesus is saying, and they call him a blasphemer, or, a "mocker of the gods."
They catch Jesus insulting what they believe is the only true view of God. And there's nothing that'll rile up a group of old-time religious folks than insulting their concept of God.
That's a different message though. A good one but for another time. Back to the no-dialogue-between-Jesus-and-the-boy.
First, a little word about dialogue. Dialogue is a verbal exchange. You ask for something, and get something in return. You say thanks and the receive a "you're welcome." You say sorry, and receive (most of the time) I forgive you.
You with me up to this point?
Dialogue requires an exchange. And, in the views of that religious culture, so does forgiveness.
In order to be forgiven by God, you had to be able to offer something in exchange. Prayers, sacrifices, goats, doves . . . whatever recipe was instructed by the high priest at the temple.
But, if you're paralyzed, how in the world are you going to get to the temple, and how in the world are you going to be able to physically do the things that are demanded of you in order to be forgiven by God?
Essentially, the religion completely excluded paralytics because they couldn't make the exchange like the rest of society. So, in the religious elites mind, they couldn't be forgiven. They had to live in a state of unforgiveness, and couldn't do anything about it.
And so the words of Jesus in this passage are extremely profound. They're breakthrough. What he's saying is essentially, Your standing with God isn't based off an exchange. You're already right with God, you've always been right with God, and you'll always be right with God.
Jesus is making an extreme religio-political statement here that goes against everything in mainstream religious thought. He's saying that God doesn't need our apologies, our sacrifices, or our prayers in order to dispense forgiveness like a gumball machine.
God is a constant state of forgiveness.
Now fast forward to 2015. What's the most telling characteristic of a person's standing with God? In Christianity, it's confessing verbally that Jesus is God, or, inviting Jesus into one's heart.
Yet, in this passage, Jesus does all the talking. The boy says nothing. He just receives. Jesus doesn't interrogate him about his dysfunctional belief systems, he doesn't make sure that the boy said his prayers that morning, he doesn't tell the boy to go to church. He just reminds the boy that he's forgiven, and it takes courage to walk in the light of forgiveness, especially when society is telling you that you haven't followed the proper religious rules in order to do so.
When all you've been told is how much effort is required of you to get into right standing with God, and then someone comes along and tell you you're already there without you're having to do anything, how can you not be afraid to walk embrace that belief?
Jesus tells the boy he's forgiven independently of his beliefs, his confessions, his prayers, and his motives.
The dialogue has been replaced with the reminder of what already is. You're forgiven. I'm forgiven. We're forgiven.
These simple words carry the power to set someone in a new direction. They did for me. I was the paralytic living in the shadows of religious requirements, letting everyone else define what my standing with God was, or who God was, or how God was like. It took a crazy amount of courage (which requires a crazy amount of fear) to step out of that box and start walking in a new direction.
The verbal exchange isn't necessary anymore, just the courage to walk in the light of what already is and what already will be.
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