Thanking Jesus Is Trusting Jesus

When I am Ill

            Three words in this account tell us everything we need to know about the extremely contagious and incurable skin disease called leprosy: “at a distance.” Lepers had to live in leper colonies outside the village totally quarantine from other people. They lived lives cut off from family get-togethers, going out with friends, working at a job, and any social interaction they previously enjoyed. The loneliness of this separation, combined with the hopelessness of an incurable disease, made it particularly difficult for a leper to be thankful for much of anything.

            I’ve known loneliness and separation. Have you? A disaster disrupts your dreams or a disability labels you with preferential but pitied treatment. Being benched during the game or for a season or experiencing a career-ending injury, excluded from a group of friends, forgotten in your senior years, or politely thanked but dismissed after the interview. A spouse who’s not around or a parent who just doesn’t get it. It’s that ill feeling of being “at a distance” like the feeling you get when a traffic jam keeps you at least 20 minutes away from getting to an appointment on time. Ugh! At a distance. And there’s nothing you can do about it, except vent, and so you vent. You pound your hands on the steering wheel, you slam a door, you pout, you cry, you throw a pity party for yourself, and you give no thought to God’s good and gracious intentions. Yeah, God, he’s like a million miles away hanging out with the good and healthy people. Skin disease or not, I’ve been a leper. I’ve been ill with an incurable hopelessness and loneliness that can’t trust God for anything but making my life miserable. Sometimes he seems as out of touch with my life as big government is out of touch with the real needs of people.

            The Bible wants to convince us lepers ill with hopelessness and loneliness – sick with the sin of not wanting to trust in God, not wanting to pray to God, or much less thank God – that God is not so far away after all. Luke rarely gets into geographical details but in this story on this day he is sure to mention that Jesus is “on his way to Jerusalem” and “along the border between Samaria and Galilee” and “going into the village” right past where I live with my leper friends. Although Luke goes on to say that “ten men who had leprosy met him” it’s really Jesus who meets us. Jesus shapes his travel plans so as not to be at a distance from my illness but to meet me there. To be near. More than that, Jesus shapes my travel plans to keep me from being at an out of range distance from him. He allows me to be infected with the leprosy of loneliness and hopelessness and illness and aggravations so that I must call for help, “Jesus, Master, have pity on [me]!” Jesus allows me to feel guilty. Jesus allows me to make bad decisions. Jesus allows me to get hurt. Then … my hopelessness and loneliness help me see what I wouldn’t otherwise see: a way that that is much better than mine. It is perfect and divine. And I see Jesus. Jesus traveled out of his way to walk on this earth and leave the footprints of his forgiveness wherever I go. Jesus came in contact with sick sinners and recorded their stories in the Scriptures for me to believe that he won’t turn away from anyone, even me. Jesus heard the cries of the desperate and still listens today when feeble voices uncertain of what to say call for his pity. Thanking Jesus Is Trusting Jesus. When I am ill.

When I am well

            When he heals the lepers, Jesus wants more than polite recognition from them, more than a quick, “Hey, what a nice guy for healing us.” He wants their trust, their saving faith, their souls. After the lepers plead with Jesus to heal them, he doesn’t come and touch them like he had done for other lepers he had healed. There is neither an earthquake, nor a voice from heaven. “Go, show yourselves to the priests,” Jesus matter-of-factly orders them. These are words of promise. Only a cured and cleaned leper would go see the priest – appointed to certify what is clean – so Jesus was calling these lepers to act on faith by believing his simple word. So, when Jesus says to Leper No. 10, who returned to thank him, “Rise and go, your faith has made you well,” we can apply that truth to the leper in both a physical way and a spiritual way. Obviously he his physical well being has been given to me anew by Jesus. But there’s more. Jesus gives him a new spiritual well being. Faith leads this leper to give something back to Jesus who had given something to him. He gives Jesus his thanks, because he believes that Jesus healed him. Thanking Jesus Is Trusting Jesus.

            Some would say it’s just as challenging trusting Jesus when I am well as when I am ill. When I’m not bouncing from homeless shelter to homeless shelter but bellied up to the table in my warm and dry home or relaxing in the recliner watching the big game on my big screen TV it’s pretty easy to thank Jesus … but to trust him? For what? I have it all. Exactly. And Jesus wants it back. “You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion,” the Bible says (2 Corinthians 9:11). In other words, we give thanks to God by giving away the stuff that makes us rich. Generously. God has a purpose for investing so much wealth in us and it’s not so that we can eat, drink, and be merry. God makes us rich not as an end but as a means. God gives us money and possessions not to keep but to share. And that takes faith that he’ll give more and take care of us just as before. Thanking Jesus Is Trusting Jesus. Like an incurable leper is cured and simply must give thanks. Give thanks. That’s what faith does. It gives.

            When you are ill, don’t just think, “It could be worse.” Thank Jesus for coming closer during a troubled time. When you are well, don’t just think, “I can eat, drink, and be merry.” Thank Jesus for giving you blessings that you can give to others. Jesus blesses each of us with both tropical beaches and with troubles. Believe that, and your faith will make you well.

Preached at Grace Lutheran Church, Milwaukee, WI (www.gracedowntown.org) on October 21, 2007