Mark
1:40-45
The
Leper
Filthy, that’s
what I was. That is what everyone told me, not only through their words but
through their cold, piercing glances, and that’s what I decided to believe. And
there was evidence enough for its validity. Bubbling sores, covering nearly
every part of my skin, too dangerous for anyone else to touch. Ugly and
unclean, they said. But the pain…the pain, they didn’t see. Worse than the pain
was the loss of it, as I realized I was losing sensation in my limbs, slowly
degenerating into paralysis.
And I suppose
that even all of this would not have made me wish to die if it had been my only
illness, my worst illness. But it wasn’t. That’s the thing about being a leper is it doesn’t
just make your body sick. It makes your soul sick, too. A man’s heart becomes
black when he’s separated from his family by force, ostracized from the only
community he’s ever known, and treated like a germ that one would rather die
than contract.
But even more
than bitter, I was simply sad. After all, would I have acted differently than
my accusers if I had been in their place? And I didn’t like to blame God,
either. I knew He loves His children and tests them for a purpose. Yet, my
disease had brought me so much heartache and sorrow that I wondered why I
hadn’t passed this test yet. I knew that God exists, I just wasn’t sure where
He was.
And it was at
this point of my deepest hopelessness and weariness that I heard the name
“Jesus.” I heard of His kindness, gentleness, and love. I heard stories
about others who, though filthy and wretched as I, found healing and peace
through His miraculous power.
Some even said He
was the Son of God. The strange thing was, I had an undeniable feeling in my
sick heart that it might be true.
When I heard that Jesus was in Galilee, I
set out to find Him. After hours and days of wandering those dusty roads,
enduring scorn from passersby, I finally found Him. But soon after my relief
upon discovering Jesus, I felt a strong apprehension. How could I expose the
Miracle Worker to such a dirty, awful disease? Would He be willing to touch my
blistered skin in order to bring reprieve? Or would He turn His face in scorn,
like all the others I had sought out for mercy?
He walked with
two of His friends, and I saw how He talked with them. I could tell by the look
on His gentle face that He would not turn me away. And I was too weary and worn
to be ashamed.
I approached the
Master and immediately fell to my knees. There I knelt silently for a moment,
unsure of what to say. Finally, these simple words escaped my trembling lips:
“If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.” And I really believed it was true.
I looked into
Jesus’ loving face, and for the first time in my life as a leper, I saw
compassion. Jesus wasn’t looking at my bubbling sores or my filthy hands. He
wasn’t looking at my tattered clothes or unshod feet. He was looking at ME.
He took
my withered hand in both of His, the first human touch I had experienced in as
long as I could remember, and said, “I will; be thou clean.”
And “immediately
the leprosy departed from (me), and (I) was cleansed.”
And no man
watching could have known that it wasn’t just my skin that was cleansed that
day. After Jesus healed me, I was no longer a leper on the inside either.
Jesus asked me to
“say nothing to any man,” but for all the riches in the world I could not
contain my joy.
I think there have
been many times in my life when I have been like this sweet leper. There have
been times when I felt filthy, inside and out. And, like the leper (or the
version of him I have imagined in this story), I have never been one to be
angry with God for my trials. I understand that this is what I signed up for,
and I still believe it’s worth it. But sometimes I do wonder why I haven’t
passed a certain test already. And life is sometimes full of heartaches that we
don’t even bring on ourselves¾they
just happen. But sometimes I let those trials define me. Sometimes I let myself
believe the lies that others tell about me, even the ones I tell about myself.
These lies can be very destructive, leading me to believe that I don’t deserve
the help of my Savior, a Man who has never sinned. But, like the leper, I have
faith in Him, and I feel the Spirit telling me that, even though I don’t
comprehend how, I can be cleansed by His power. In humility I too fall to my
knees and ask my Savior to cleanse me. And the beautiful truth that defies all
the ugly lies is that He can look past all the “filth”, whether real or
perceived, and see who I truly am and who I may become. He loves me,
plain and simple. So then it becomes an easy task to ask Him to heal me, and
His response is ever so significant: “Be
thou clean,” He says. He provides the way for me to become clean, and invites me
to do that for myself, through Him. But it’s something I must choose to do,
something I must eventually BECOME. If I accept His invitation to be clean, my
spiritual sickness “immediately departs from me,” and I can be whole once
again.
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