Miracles
Commentary
Object:
Charles Darwin grew up in a Christian home, yet later in life he rejected Christianity's hold on him. How did this loss of faith happen? Here's the explanation from his autobiography: "I gradually came to disbelieve in Christianity... Disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but at last it was complete. The rate was so slow that I felt no distress."
Darwin's words could have fallen from the pages of many diaries. His experience is the same as many in the church who lose their faith. They lose it because they don't use it. Because they never do anything with it. Because they have become less than they truly are.
The miracles of Elijah and of Paul and of Jesus in today's lectionary readings are billboards on humanity's journey that too often heads into dark and lackluster inertia. "Turn here!" they cry. "Light is in that direction! Follow the prophet, follow the former assassin-turned-missionary, follow the young man, Mary's son, because if you do, the celebration will return to the party!"
Do you believe it? Or has your complacency with the dull drabness of life in the shadows made you think, with Charles Darwin, that "ho" and "hum" are the only real words that matter?
Wake up! Get excited! Witness the miracle! And become again what you were meant to be!
1 Kings 17:8-16 (17-24)
When the nation of Israel came out of Egypt and met God at Mount Sinai there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as prior to the Exodus the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the covenant.
Yet even this God would need mediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel's wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan's harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua's hands. Joshua helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the kingdom of heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the "Elders" of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith wilted. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful "Judges" managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence, and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. "Give us a king!" they told Samuel. "Give us a king!" they prayed to God, so long hidden. The outcome was the monarchy -- established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jereboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 BC) and the Babylonian scourge (586 BC).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, often surrounded by their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the covenant. Elijah was one of the greatest among these. He lived up to his name, which meant "My God is Yahweh."
Although Elijah was able to do many special and seemingly miraculous things, he is never portrayed as a wizard or some kind of superhuman figure. In fact, all of the miracles that happen when Elijah is around point only to God as the one who brings life and promotes healing. Elijah wields no power of magic; rather he understands what God is all about, what God's goals for his world are, and where to find the imprint of his creative and restoring fingers.
Elijah understood the covenant stipulations that when God's people broke faith with God, he would withhold the needed rains until they finally came to their senses. Elijah was well-versed in the promises of God's covenant that he would make the world blossom for the good of his people when they trusted him. His prayers were not secret codes that moved the tumblers of heaven's resources vaults. Rather his prayers were God's own speech become audible again in an age that had forgotten how to listen.
We often want prayer to be our magic potion that will force God to do our bidding. No one can move the fingers of God until they have first absorbed his covenant and his character and his vision, struggling like Elijah to understand the mind of God and living in a way that has put God's priorities first.
Galatians 1:11-24
One of the great stories at the start of the church is the first mission journey of Paul and Barnabas in Acts 13-14. Sent out by their home congregation in Antioch, they traveled across Cyprus and then through what is now central Turkey, speaking first to Jews in synagogues, and then to Gentiles in the marketplace, about Jesus, the crucified, resurrected, and ascended savior. The unscripted trip was a huge success, with new congregations springing up in every town they visited. Upon returning to Antioch, they brought a report of their mission journey to their home congregation (Acts 14:26-28).
And that's when the trouble started (Acts 15; Galatians 2). Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work, but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner. These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel's prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separated meal and communion practices, making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul's surprise, even Peter allied himself with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid and accosted Peter publicly, creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul's and Barnabas' recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it had even an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of "Galatia," the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
In the first part of this passionate letter (Galatians 1-2), Paul reviewed his personal journey to an understanding of freedom in Christ and lamented the recent developments that had seemingly stolen away this freedom from many of them. It is a powerful testimony that we need to hear over and over.
A dear friend once explained it like this: in a dream he saw a marvelous apparatus of yellow silk billowing in the breezes next to a cliff. It was a transportation device of some kind, though he couldn't see either engines or supports. Like a magical tent, it floated in space.
Inside was a man whose face seemed so familiar and friendly that my friend knew immediately this was an intimate acquaintance. However, he could not seem to remember how they were associated, or the man's name. The man, with a smile of warmth, invited him to step off the cliff into the contrivance and be carried on a delightful journey in the yellow tent.
But my friend was so intrigued by the device itself that he wanted to try it on his own. He wanted to pilot the magical airship. So when he entered the craft he fought the man for control and pushed him out onto the cliff. Unfortunately, just as my friend felt the power of flight swell in his commanding grasp, the entire yellow tent began to collapse in on itself, and plummet to disaster below. No matter what he did, my friend could not make the "machine" fly. He cried out for help and suddenly the man he had pushed out reappeared at his side. In that exact moment the airship began to billow and slow its freefall. Soon they were soaring together.
Without a further thought my friend knew that the strangely familiar man was Jesus. He also knew why Jesus said to him, "Don't you know that the power to fly is not found in the 'machine' or in your skills as a pilot but in me?"
None of us begins to soar in life until we meet Jesus. As Paul said, and as the whole Bible echoes, it is all about Jesus. That's the true meaning of miracle in the life of faith. And that is the source of all our authentic testimonies.
Luke 7:11-17
The story of God's love in the Bible focuses on Jesus, and the incident Luke tells us about in today's gospel reading is exactly about that. But Jesus did not appear in a vacuum. Throughout the Old Testament already God made it clear that God would send a specially commissioned person to bring healing and forgiveness to the citizens of earth. As priests and kings and prophets were anointed with oil at the start of their careers, so this person too would be anointed. In fact, this special deliverer would be called "The Anointed," a term that comes across in Hebrew as "Messiah" and in Greek as "Christ." This is what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the Roman Christians about the coming of Christ as God's agent of grace and goodness.
Walter Wangerin Jr. powerfully summarized the meaning of Jesus as Messiah in his allegory of the Ragman. Wangerin pictures himself in a city on a Friday morning. A handsome young man comes to town, dragging behind him a cart made of wood. The cart is piled high with new, clean clothes, bright and shiny and freshly pressed.
Wandering through the streets the trader marches, crying out his strange deal: "Rags! New rags for old! Give me your old rags, your tired rags, your torn and soiled rags!"
He sees a woman on the back porch of a house. She is old and tired and weary of living. She has a dirty handkerchief pressed to her nose, and she is crying a thousand tears, sobbing over the pains of her life.
The Ragman takes a clean linen handkerchief from his wagon and brings it to the woman. He lays it across her arm. She blinks at him, wondering what he is up to. Gently the young man opens her fingers and releases the old, dirty, soaking handkerchief from her knotted fist.
Then comes the wonder. The Ragman touches the old rag to his own eyes and begins to weep her tears. Meanwhile, behind him on her porch stands the old woman, tears gone, eyes full of peace.
It happens again. "New rags for old!" he cries, and he comes to a young girl wearing a bloody bandage on her head. He takes the caked and soiled wrap away and gives her a new bonnet from his cart. Then he wraps the old rags around his head. As he does this, the girl's cuts disappear and her skin turns rosy. She dances away with laughter and returns to her friends to play. But the Ragman begins to moan and from her rags on his head the blood spills down.
He next meets a man. "Do you have a job?" the Ragman asks. With a sneer the man replies, "Are you kidding?" and holds up his shirtsleeve. There is no arm in it. He cannot work. He is disabled.
But the Ragman says, "Give me your shirt. I'll give you mine."
The man's shirt hangs limp as he takes it off, but the Ragman's shirt hangs firm and full because one of the Ragman's arms is still in the sleeve. It goes with the shirt. When the man puts it on, he has a new arm. But the Ragman walks away with one sleeve dangling.
It happens over and over again. The Ragman takes the clothes from the tired, the hurting, the lost, and the lonely. He gathers them to his own body and takes the pain into his own heart. Then he gives new clothes to new lives with new purpose and new joy.
Finally, around midday the Ragman finds himself at the center of the city, where nothing remains but a stinking garbage heap. It is the accumulated refuse of a society lost to anxiety and torture. On Friday afternoon the Ragman climbs the hill, stumbling as he drags his cart behind him. He is tired and sore and pained and bleeding. He falls on the wooden beams of the cart, alone and dying from the disease and disaster he has garnered from others.
Wangerin wonders at the sight. In exhaustion and uncertainty he falls asleep. He lies dreaming nightmares through all of Saturday until he is shaken from his fitful slumbers early on Sunday morning. The ground quakes, Wangerin looks up, and in surprise he sees the Ragman stand up. He is alive! The sores are gone, though the scars remain. But the Ragman's clothes are new and clean. Death has been swallowed up and transformed by life!
Still worn and troubled in his spirit, Wangerin cries up to the Ragman, "Dress me, Ragman! Give me your clothes to wear! Make me new!"
We know the picture. It is Jesus coming into our world to share our sufferings and to bear our shame and guilt. Jesus stands in our place, dying our death so that we might gain a new and renewing relationship with God. In the miracles that Jesus performed before he himself went through death and came back alive, this focus was already evident.
Sure, it is hard to explain, as those who were in the crowds that day in Nain would find when they tried to tell their friends what they had witnessed. But it is also something, according to the Bible, that we cannot live without.
Application
Victor Hugo called his masterpiece Les Miserables a religious work. So it is. The story echoes the gospel message at nearly every turn. And the story really begins with a miracle.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom, he stays with a bishop, who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean's thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean's eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean's life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. He becomes what he was meant to be.
Not only that, but Jean Valjean spends the rest of his life helping his young charge, Cosette, find love and a good marriage. The redeemed becomes the redeemer. The one who has seen the light becomes the light of life for others.
While the parallels can only be drawn so far, there are powerful images that get repeated when trying to figure out the deep meanings of life. The gospels, in telling us stories about Jesus' miracles, do more than send up tabloid headlines: "Local Boy Returns, Raises Young Girl!" They help us see the broad sweep of human history in which all our best efforts at marriages and families and societies and civilization come undone at the seams because of our weak and wicked ways. Only when someone from outside the system names our disease and offers a vaccine against the ravages of original sin will we realize just how deeply we have been stuck in the well of our despair.
An Alternative Application
Galatians 1:11-24. We are deeply moved by those who speak with animated conviction about the things that truly matter. But not all of us can tell of experiences in which God turned us around as dramatically as was true for Paul. What then? Are we lesser Christians?
Many years ago, Dr. Peter Eldersveld was the preacher for a radio ministry, and he addressed that very issue. In one of his sermons he reminded his listeners that most of us are self-made people. At least that's how we like to think of ourselves: self-made, self-directed, self-sustaining. Even our Christian testimonies hint in that direction. He told about some of his friends who delight in telling how, after years of destructive living, they came to know God and got turned around and then made new commitments of service.
Then, said Dr. Eldersveld, they politely look to me and ask about my "personal testimony." I always feel like a second-rate Christian, he said, because I have no amazing before-and-after stories to spread. In fact, his whole testimony could be summarized in a single rather "boring" statement. He said, "I have never known a day in all my life when I could not believe that I was a child of God."
As he reflected further, he came to realize that this simple statement was really an earthshaking confession. Is it possible that from the time a child draws its first breath, it could belong to God, be part of the family and community of God, and be found in the loving care of God? Is it possible that the first language a youngster could speak would be the language of faith and the dialect of divine love? What a testimony that is! And it belongs to any and all of us who realize the miracle of grace is God's doing, not ours.
Darwin's words could have fallen from the pages of many diaries. His experience is the same as many in the church who lose their faith. They lose it because they don't use it. Because they never do anything with it. Because they have become less than they truly are.
The miracles of Elijah and of Paul and of Jesus in today's lectionary readings are billboards on humanity's journey that too often heads into dark and lackluster inertia. "Turn here!" they cry. "Light is in that direction! Follow the prophet, follow the former assassin-turned-missionary, follow the young man, Mary's son, because if you do, the celebration will return to the party!"
Do you believe it? Or has your complacency with the dull drabness of life in the shadows made you think, with Charles Darwin, that "ho" and "hum" are the only real words that matter?
Wake up! Get excited! Witness the miracle! And become again what you were meant to be!
1 Kings 17:8-16 (17-24)
When the nation of Israel came out of Egypt and met God at Mount Sinai there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as prior to the Exodus the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel's future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage" (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the covenant.
Yet even this God would need mediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel's wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan's harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua's hands. Joshua helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the kingdom of heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the "Elders" of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith wilted. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful "Judges" managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence, and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. "Give us a king!" they told Samuel. "Give us a king!" they prayed to God, so long hidden. The outcome was the monarchy -- established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jereboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 BC) and the Babylonian scourge (586 BC).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, often surrounded by their cultic priests. These "outside-the-system" renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the covenant. Elijah was one of the greatest among these. He lived up to his name, which meant "My God is Yahweh."
Although Elijah was able to do many special and seemingly miraculous things, he is never portrayed as a wizard or some kind of superhuman figure. In fact, all of the miracles that happen when Elijah is around point only to God as the one who brings life and promotes healing. Elijah wields no power of magic; rather he understands what God is all about, what God's goals for his world are, and where to find the imprint of his creative and restoring fingers.
Elijah understood the covenant stipulations that when God's people broke faith with God, he would withhold the needed rains until they finally came to their senses. Elijah was well-versed in the promises of God's covenant that he would make the world blossom for the good of his people when they trusted him. His prayers were not secret codes that moved the tumblers of heaven's resources vaults. Rather his prayers were God's own speech become audible again in an age that had forgotten how to listen.
We often want prayer to be our magic potion that will force God to do our bidding. No one can move the fingers of God until they have first absorbed his covenant and his character and his vision, struggling like Elijah to understand the mind of God and living in a way that has put God's priorities first.
Galatians 1:11-24
One of the great stories at the start of the church is the first mission journey of Paul and Barnabas in Acts 13-14. Sent out by their home congregation in Antioch, they traveled across Cyprus and then through what is now central Turkey, speaking first to Jews in synagogues, and then to Gentiles in the marketplace, about Jesus, the crucified, resurrected, and ascended savior. The unscripted trip was a huge success, with new congregations springing up in every town they visited. Upon returning to Antioch, they brought a report of their mission journey to their home congregation (Acts 14:26-28).
And that's when the trouble started (Acts 15; Galatians 2). Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work, but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner. These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel's prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separated meal and communion practices, making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul's surprise, even Peter allied himself with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid and accosted Peter publicly, creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul's and Barnabas' recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it had even an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of "Galatia," the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
In the first part of this passionate letter (Galatians 1-2), Paul reviewed his personal journey to an understanding of freedom in Christ and lamented the recent developments that had seemingly stolen away this freedom from many of them. It is a powerful testimony that we need to hear over and over.
A dear friend once explained it like this: in a dream he saw a marvelous apparatus of yellow silk billowing in the breezes next to a cliff. It was a transportation device of some kind, though he couldn't see either engines or supports. Like a magical tent, it floated in space.
Inside was a man whose face seemed so familiar and friendly that my friend knew immediately this was an intimate acquaintance. However, he could not seem to remember how they were associated, or the man's name. The man, with a smile of warmth, invited him to step off the cliff into the contrivance and be carried on a delightful journey in the yellow tent.
But my friend was so intrigued by the device itself that he wanted to try it on his own. He wanted to pilot the magical airship. So when he entered the craft he fought the man for control and pushed him out onto the cliff. Unfortunately, just as my friend felt the power of flight swell in his commanding grasp, the entire yellow tent began to collapse in on itself, and plummet to disaster below. No matter what he did, my friend could not make the "machine" fly. He cried out for help and suddenly the man he had pushed out reappeared at his side. In that exact moment the airship began to billow and slow its freefall. Soon they were soaring together.
Without a further thought my friend knew that the strangely familiar man was Jesus. He also knew why Jesus said to him, "Don't you know that the power to fly is not found in the 'machine' or in your skills as a pilot but in me?"
None of us begins to soar in life until we meet Jesus. As Paul said, and as the whole Bible echoes, it is all about Jesus. That's the true meaning of miracle in the life of faith. And that is the source of all our authentic testimonies.
Luke 7:11-17
The story of God's love in the Bible focuses on Jesus, and the incident Luke tells us about in today's gospel reading is exactly about that. But Jesus did not appear in a vacuum. Throughout the Old Testament already God made it clear that God would send a specially commissioned person to bring healing and forgiveness to the citizens of earth. As priests and kings and prophets were anointed with oil at the start of their careers, so this person too would be anointed. In fact, this special deliverer would be called "The Anointed," a term that comes across in Hebrew as "Messiah" and in Greek as "Christ." This is what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the Roman Christians about the coming of Christ as God's agent of grace and goodness.
Walter Wangerin Jr. powerfully summarized the meaning of Jesus as Messiah in his allegory of the Ragman. Wangerin pictures himself in a city on a Friday morning. A handsome young man comes to town, dragging behind him a cart made of wood. The cart is piled high with new, clean clothes, bright and shiny and freshly pressed.
Wandering through the streets the trader marches, crying out his strange deal: "Rags! New rags for old! Give me your old rags, your tired rags, your torn and soiled rags!"
He sees a woman on the back porch of a house. She is old and tired and weary of living. She has a dirty handkerchief pressed to her nose, and she is crying a thousand tears, sobbing over the pains of her life.
The Ragman takes a clean linen handkerchief from his wagon and brings it to the woman. He lays it across her arm. She blinks at him, wondering what he is up to. Gently the young man opens her fingers and releases the old, dirty, soaking handkerchief from her knotted fist.
Then comes the wonder. The Ragman touches the old rag to his own eyes and begins to weep her tears. Meanwhile, behind him on her porch stands the old woman, tears gone, eyes full of peace.
It happens again. "New rags for old!" he cries, and he comes to a young girl wearing a bloody bandage on her head. He takes the caked and soiled wrap away and gives her a new bonnet from his cart. Then he wraps the old rags around his head. As he does this, the girl's cuts disappear and her skin turns rosy. She dances away with laughter and returns to her friends to play. But the Ragman begins to moan and from her rags on his head the blood spills down.
He next meets a man. "Do you have a job?" the Ragman asks. With a sneer the man replies, "Are you kidding?" and holds up his shirtsleeve. There is no arm in it. He cannot work. He is disabled.
But the Ragman says, "Give me your shirt. I'll give you mine."
The man's shirt hangs limp as he takes it off, but the Ragman's shirt hangs firm and full because one of the Ragman's arms is still in the sleeve. It goes with the shirt. When the man puts it on, he has a new arm. But the Ragman walks away with one sleeve dangling.
It happens over and over again. The Ragman takes the clothes from the tired, the hurting, the lost, and the lonely. He gathers them to his own body and takes the pain into his own heart. Then he gives new clothes to new lives with new purpose and new joy.
Finally, around midday the Ragman finds himself at the center of the city, where nothing remains but a stinking garbage heap. It is the accumulated refuse of a society lost to anxiety and torture. On Friday afternoon the Ragman climbs the hill, stumbling as he drags his cart behind him. He is tired and sore and pained and bleeding. He falls on the wooden beams of the cart, alone and dying from the disease and disaster he has garnered from others.
Wangerin wonders at the sight. In exhaustion and uncertainty he falls asleep. He lies dreaming nightmares through all of Saturday until he is shaken from his fitful slumbers early on Sunday morning. The ground quakes, Wangerin looks up, and in surprise he sees the Ragman stand up. He is alive! The sores are gone, though the scars remain. But the Ragman's clothes are new and clean. Death has been swallowed up and transformed by life!
Still worn and troubled in his spirit, Wangerin cries up to the Ragman, "Dress me, Ragman! Give me your clothes to wear! Make me new!"
We know the picture. It is Jesus coming into our world to share our sufferings and to bear our shame and guilt. Jesus stands in our place, dying our death so that we might gain a new and renewing relationship with God. In the miracles that Jesus performed before he himself went through death and came back alive, this focus was already evident.
Sure, it is hard to explain, as those who were in the crowds that day in Nain would find when they tried to tell their friends what they had witnessed. But it is also something, according to the Bible, that we cannot live without.
Application
Victor Hugo called his masterpiece Les Miserables a religious work. So it is. The story echoes the gospel message at nearly every turn. And the story really begins with a miracle.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom, he stays with a bishop, who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean's thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean's eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean's life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. He becomes what he was meant to be.
Not only that, but Jean Valjean spends the rest of his life helping his young charge, Cosette, find love and a good marriage. The redeemed becomes the redeemer. The one who has seen the light becomes the light of life for others.
While the parallels can only be drawn so far, there are powerful images that get repeated when trying to figure out the deep meanings of life. The gospels, in telling us stories about Jesus' miracles, do more than send up tabloid headlines: "Local Boy Returns, Raises Young Girl!" They help us see the broad sweep of human history in which all our best efforts at marriages and families and societies and civilization come undone at the seams because of our weak and wicked ways. Only when someone from outside the system names our disease and offers a vaccine against the ravages of original sin will we realize just how deeply we have been stuck in the well of our despair.
An Alternative Application
Galatians 1:11-24. We are deeply moved by those who speak with animated conviction about the things that truly matter. But not all of us can tell of experiences in which God turned us around as dramatically as was true for Paul. What then? Are we lesser Christians?
Many years ago, Dr. Peter Eldersveld was the preacher for a radio ministry, and he addressed that very issue. In one of his sermons he reminded his listeners that most of us are self-made people. At least that's how we like to think of ourselves: self-made, self-directed, self-sustaining. Even our Christian testimonies hint in that direction. He told about some of his friends who delight in telling how, after years of destructive living, they came to know God and got turned around and then made new commitments of service.
Then, said Dr. Eldersveld, they politely look to me and ask about my "personal testimony." I always feel like a second-rate Christian, he said, because I have no amazing before-and-after stories to spread. In fact, his whole testimony could be summarized in a single rather "boring" statement. He said, "I have never known a day in all my life when I could not believe that I was a child of God."
As he reflected further, he came to realize that this simple statement was really an earthshaking confession. Is it possible that from the time a child draws its first breath, it could belong to God, be part of the family and community of God, and be found in the loving care of God? Is it possible that the first language a youngster could speak would be the language of faith and the dialect of divine love? What a testimony that is! And it belongs to any and all of us who realize the miracle of grace is God's doing, not ours.
