A Transforming Word
Christian Life
Women And The Word
Ten Narratives On God's Word
Object:
Listen to the words of a desperate woman who has experienced intense pain, both physically and emotionally, for over eighteen years. When she hears a new voice teaching with authority in the temple, little does she realize that she is about to be touched by someone who can heal both her body and her soul. After meeting Jesus, she is no longer a cripple. She stands tall and is, therefore, able to see the needs of others.
The Crippled Woman
A Transforming Word
Luke 13:10-17
Oh, how I suffered. For eighteen years I suffered. I had been sick so long that I forgot what it was like to feel healthy. I lived with constant pain, pain in my back that hounded me morning, noon, and night. It was paralyzing pain. I would wake every morning hoping that the pain would be gone only to find that when I moved, bang, the pain was there to destroy my hope of a new day. Day after day, month after month, year after year it was there, the plaguing pain was there.
I am sure that some of you know what it is like to live with chronic pain: the joints that are bone rubbing on bone, the arthritis that hinders movement, the rotator cuff that needs repair, the hip that has worn out. Many of you know the pain that drives one to scream, "Enough is enough. I just can't take it anymore."
But the physical pain was only part of my battle. Being so bent over that I could not see the sky was only a small part of my suffering. What was even more crippling than the physical pain was the emotional torment I endured.
At first, my friends and neighbors were considerate, but then they backed away as if I were contagious. The longer the illness went on, the smaller my world became. I really became a social outcast. No one ever touched me.
Do you know what it feels like to never get a hug, to never see a friendly smile, to never hear the words, "I love you"? I was so lonely. Believe me, my heart ached more than my back did.
Have you ever experienced the crippling effects of emotional pain? Have you ever ached for a loving touch? Has depression stolen your zest for life? Has shame eaten away at your self-esteem? Have you ever felt like you don't fit in? Have you longed to be loved and accepted for who you are? A crippled heart can bring paralyzing pain.
On top of that, on top of the physical and emotional struggles I endured, I felt the heavy weight of spiritual suffering. I had always trusted that God answered prayer, but after eighteen years of praying with no answers, what would you believe? I still went to the temple everyday merely because it was a good place to beg.
My prayers to God had been altered. I was angry. With a bitter edge I cried out with words of the psalmist, "How long O Lord? Wilt thou forget me for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? How long must I bear this pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all the day?"
The God of steadfast love and enduring mercy no longer felt steadfast to me. In fact, I felt forsaken by God. My spirit ached more than my back. I longed to be in relationship with God, but my bitterness served as a fortress letting neither God nor anyone else close to my heart.
Do you know what I mean? Maybe you have had a hard time making sense of faith when you have watched a loved one suffer or when you have felt the tearing of the heart that grief brings. Maybe you have wondered where God was when you felt lost and lonely. Maybe it has been hard for you to believe in a God who loves you just as you are. We all have those times when our spirit aches for good news, don't we?
Mine was such a time. Everything ached, my body and my spirit. I was at the end of my rope. I was desperate. The physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering was more than I could take.
I did not know what to do. I did not know where to turn. Then one day as I stood begging on the steps of the synagogue, I heard a new voice teaching, a voice of love and yet of authority. For the first time in years, I felt drawn into the synagogue. Of course, I could not stand up straight enough to see who was speaking, but I sensed there was something different about this man. I stood in the background and listened to him speak with loving power.
Suddenly, he stopped. I heard him say, "Come here." I did not move, for I had no idea who he was talking to. The next thing I knew he was kneeling in front of me. I could see him face-to-face. No one ever bothered to kneel down and look up into my eyes the way he did. His eyes were so loving. He said to me, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." Then he touched me. No one had touched me in years. He not only touched my arm; he touched my soul. I felt his love, his unconditional love, roll through me like an ocean wave. Then I stood up. I stood up straight! For the first time in eighteen years I could stand up straight. There was no more pain. I could look into the eyes of those around me. It was a miracle. My suffering was over. The pain was gone. I began shouting praises at the top of my lungs.
However, the leader of the synagogue quickly put a stop to that. There was no love there. He did not rejoice with me. No, he looked at me with great disdain and screamed, "Hush, woman!" He then looked at Jesus with white-hot passion. Seething with anger he said to the crowd in an accusatory manner, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day."
The nerve of him! I was ready to speak up in defense of Jesus when Jesus spoke to the temple leaders, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?"
Well, that put them to shame. They bit their tongues and I stood speechless as well. For the first time someone understood my suffering. Jesus understood that I was in bondage to my suffering. I was trapped with no way out. Jesus knew that my pain had paralyzed me physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Through his loving touch I felt like I belonged. I can hardly find the words to describe how I felt when Jesus called me a daughter of Abraham and Sarah. I had been alienated from the community, especially the community of faith, and Jesus invited me back in. I belonged. I was accepted. I was loved.
His loving understanding transformed me. My self-esteem soared. The monkey of self-loathing was lifted from my back and I stood up. I stood tall. I was more important than the law. Jesus was telling me his love for me, and for all people, was more important than all the rules and regulations the synagogue leaders insisted on. Jesus loved me more than the law! In his eyes, my well-being came first. Wow! No one had ever treated me with such love, dignity, or respect. Jesus touched me with his love and I was transformed. I was a new person. The whole world looked different to me. I looked at everything and everyone through the same lens that Jesus did, through the lens of unconditional love. My envy and jealousy of those around me dissolved. My hatred of those who mocked me or ignored no longer consumed me. The compassion and empathy I felt toward those who were driven by self-righteous judgment surprised me.
The anger I felt toward God changed to love. The walls I created, to keep myself from God, tumbled down. I knew that the promises in God's Word were true. Indeed, I once again believed that God is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. My prayers of lament turned to the poetry of praise.
Those who saw the power of Jesus' transforming love rejoiced with me. They joined in my joyful song and dance. With one voice we sang out the psalmist's words:
Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament! Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his exceeding greatness! Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! Praise him with timbrel and dance; praise him with strings and pipe!
-- Psalm 150:1-6
I praised God for God's transforming power in my life. Before Jesus touched me, the only thing I could see was my own pain, but the power of Jesus' love changed all that. My eyes were open to the suffering of others. I felt called to serve those who suffered from physical pain. I felt called to serve those who were in emotional anguish; those who felt alienated, those who felt no hope, those who felt unloved, and those who felt unworthy. I felt called to serve those who were spiritually paralyzed; those who had lost their faith; who could no longer trust in God's steadfast love or who were consumed with bitterness. The whole focus of my life changed from focusing on me to focusing on serving others. What a miraculous transformation!
Jesus' loving touch is amazing! It has the power to heal our aching bodies, emotions, and spirits. It has the ability to transform our vision. Our lives and the world look different through the lens of God's transforming love. Jesus' love has the capacity to call us from being self-serving people to being God-serving neighbors who see beyond our own pain with an empathetic eye and compassionate touch toward others' physical, emotional, or spiritual discomforts.
Jesus touched me and my life was fully transformed and I then stood tall, ready to serve.
Whatever it is that cripples you this day, whether you are bent over from chronic pain, by the burdens of stress, from the heaviness of guilt, or by the challenges of doubt, let Jesus' love transform you and then stand tall to serve the God of transforming love.
The Crippled Woman
A Transforming Word
Luke 13:10-17
Oh, how I suffered. For eighteen years I suffered. I had been sick so long that I forgot what it was like to feel healthy. I lived with constant pain, pain in my back that hounded me morning, noon, and night. It was paralyzing pain. I would wake every morning hoping that the pain would be gone only to find that when I moved, bang, the pain was there to destroy my hope of a new day. Day after day, month after month, year after year it was there, the plaguing pain was there.
I am sure that some of you know what it is like to live with chronic pain: the joints that are bone rubbing on bone, the arthritis that hinders movement, the rotator cuff that needs repair, the hip that has worn out. Many of you know the pain that drives one to scream, "Enough is enough. I just can't take it anymore."
But the physical pain was only part of my battle. Being so bent over that I could not see the sky was only a small part of my suffering. What was even more crippling than the physical pain was the emotional torment I endured.
At first, my friends and neighbors were considerate, but then they backed away as if I were contagious. The longer the illness went on, the smaller my world became. I really became a social outcast. No one ever touched me.
Do you know what it feels like to never get a hug, to never see a friendly smile, to never hear the words, "I love you"? I was so lonely. Believe me, my heart ached more than my back did.
Have you ever experienced the crippling effects of emotional pain? Have you ever ached for a loving touch? Has depression stolen your zest for life? Has shame eaten away at your self-esteem? Have you ever felt like you don't fit in? Have you longed to be loved and accepted for who you are? A crippled heart can bring paralyzing pain.
On top of that, on top of the physical and emotional struggles I endured, I felt the heavy weight of spiritual suffering. I had always trusted that God answered prayer, but after eighteen years of praying with no answers, what would you believe? I still went to the temple everyday merely because it was a good place to beg.
My prayers to God had been altered. I was angry. With a bitter edge I cried out with words of the psalmist, "How long O Lord? Wilt thou forget me for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? How long must I bear this pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all the day?"
The God of steadfast love and enduring mercy no longer felt steadfast to me. In fact, I felt forsaken by God. My spirit ached more than my back. I longed to be in relationship with God, but my bitterness served as a fortress letting neither God nor anyone else close to my heart.
Do you know what I mean? Maybe you have had a hard time making sense of faith when you have watched a loved one suffer or when you have felt the tearing of the heart that grief brings. Maybe you have wondered where God was when you felt lost and lonely. Maybe it has been hard for you to believe in a God who loves you just as you are. We all have those times when our spirit aches for good news, don't we?
Mine was such a time. Everything ached, my body and my spirit. I was at the end of my rope. I was desperate. The physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering was more than I could take.
I did not know what to do. I did not know where to turn. Then one day as I stood begging on the steps of the synagogue, I heard a new voice teaching, a voice of love and yet of authority. For the first time in years, I felt drawn into the synagogue. Of course, I could not stand up straight enough to see who was speaking, but I sensed there was something different about this man. I stood in the background and listened to him speak with loving power.
Suddenly, he stopped. I heard him say, "Come here." I did not move, for I had no idea who he was talking to. The next thing I knew he was kneeling in front of me. I could see him face-to-face. No one ever bothered to kneel down and look up into my eyes the way he did. His eyes were so loving. He said to me, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." Then he touched me. No one had touched me in years. He not only touched my arm; he touched my soul. I felt his love, his unconditional love, roll through me like an ocean wave. Then I stood up. I stood up straight! For the first time in eighteen years I could stand up straight. There was no more pain. I could look into the eyes of those around me. It was a miracle. My suffering was over. The pain was gone. I began shouting praises at the top of my lungs.
However, the leader of the synagogue quickly put a stop to that. There was no love there. He did not rejoice with me. No, he looked at me with great disdain and screamed, "Hush, woman!" He then looked at Jesus with white-hot passion. Seething with anger he said to the crowd in an accusatory manner, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day."
The nerve of him! I was ready to speak up in defense of Jesus when Jesus spoke to the temple leaders, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?"
Well, that put them to shame. They bit their tongues and I stood speechless as well. For the first time someone understood my suffering. Jesus understood that I was in bondage to my suffering. I was trapped with no way out. Jesus knew that my pain had paralyzed me physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Through his loving touch I felt like I belonged. I can hardly find the words to describe how I felt when Jesus called me a daughter of Abraham and Sarah. I had been alienated from the community, especially the community of faith, and Jesus invited me back in. I belonged. I was accepted. I was loved.
His loving understanding transformed me. My self-esteem soared. The monkey of self-loathing was lifted from my back and I stood up. I stood tall. I was more important than the law. Jesus was telling me his love for me, and for all people, was more important than all the rules and regulations the synagogue leaders insisted on. Jesus loved me more than the law! In his eyes, my well-being came first. Wow! No one had ever treated me with such love, dignity, or respect. Jesus touched me with his love and I was transformed. I was a new person. The whole world looked different to me. I looked at everything and everyone through the same lens that Jesus did, through the lens of unconditional love. My envy and jealousy of those around me dissolved. My hatred of those who mocked me or ignored no longer consumed me. The compassion and empathy I felt toward those who were driven by self-righteous judgment surprised me.
The anger I felt toward God changed to love. The walls I created, to keep myself from God, tumbled down. I knew that the promises in God's Word were true. Indeed, I once again believed that God is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. My prayers of lament turned to the poetry of praise.
Those who saw the power of Jesus' transforming love rejoiced with me. They joined in my joyful song and dance. With one voice we sang out the psalmist's words:
Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament! Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his exceeding greatness! Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! Praise him with timbrel and dance; praise him with strings and pipe!
-- Psalm 150:1-6
I praised God for God's transforming power in my life. Before Jesus touched me, the only thing I could see was my own pain, but the power of Jesus' love changed all that. My eyes were open to the suffering of others. I felt called to serve those who suffered from physical pain. I felt called to serve those who were in emotional anguish; those who felt alienated, those who felt no hope, those who felt unloved, and those who felt unworthy. I felt called to serve those who were spiritually paralyzed; those who had lost their faith; who could no longer trust in God's steadfast love or who were consumed with bitterness. The whole focus of my life changed from focusing on me to focusing on serving others. What a miraculous transformation!
Jesus' loving touch is amazing! It has the power to heal our aching bodies, emotions, and spirits. It has the ability to transform our vision. Our lives and the world look different through the lens of God's transforming love. Jesus' love has the capacity to call us from being self-serving people to being God-serving neighbors who see beyond our own pain with an empathetic eye and compassionate touch toward others' physical, emotional, or spiritual discomforts.
Jesus touched me and my life was fully transformed and I then stood tall, ready to serve.
Whatever it is that cripples you this day, whether you are bent over from chronic pain, by the burdens of stress, from the heaviness of guilt, or by the challenges of doubt, let Jesus' love transform you and then stand tall to serve the God of transforming love.
