Lifted Up by the Lord

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 1:29-39
February 4, 2018
Epiphany 5B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

It is the germaphobe’s least favorite time of the year. Influenza and other viruses are running rampant. Copious amounts of hand sanitizer do very little shore up weakened immune systems—especially when we’re all crammed together indoors like sardines thanks to this ferocious February weather. With all these germs floating around, it almost makes you want to stop breathing—or at least not to inhale any more than is absolutely necessary.

When was the last time you were sick, injured, or in great pain? Such miserable moments can actually be very spiritual moments. Serious illness, especially, can be a time of great insight and clarity. Our dependence on others and our own weakness and vulnerability—it enables us to experience God’s gracious care in ways we never could otherwise. On one hand, our sicknesses remind us of our mortality—remind us that we are dust and to dust we shall return. But on the other hand, every time we recover—every time we bounce back to health—we are pointed ahead to the day of resurrection, when our broken bodies will be forever raised to new life—changed from merely mortal to immortality.

It would be easy to overlook the healing of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law in today’s holy gospel. It seems almost trivial—especially compared to what had just taken place: Jesus engaged in a thrilling and spectacular confrontation with a demon-possessed man in the

synagogue. Instead, in today’s text, we have just an old lady in bed with a fever. Possibly serious, but likely to improve with some rest and plenty of fluids. Feed a cold, starve a fever. Nevertheless, Jesus goes to her bedside, takes her by the hand, lifts her up, and the fever leaves her. And she proceeds to put on some coffee, make some sandwiches, put out some cookies, and serve her son-in-law’s new friends.

As miracles go, it’s not very spectacular. But what a nice story! Wouldn’t it be nice to have Jesus come to your sickbed, take you by the hand, and lift you up on eagles’ wings? So much better than dealing with insurance, keeping track of deductibles, waiting on lab results, phoning the pharmacy because you can’t remember if it’s two pills three times a day or three pills two times a day. I’ll gladly take a house call from Jesus instead of all of that rigmarole.

Later that night the whole city gathered in Simon Peter’s front yard, bringing multitudes of diseased and demonized people. And Jesus dutifully made his way from one to the next, healing them much as He had Peter’s mother-in-law. It’s a bit surprising, though, to hear that Jesus left town the next morning without healing everybody. And why did He check out? To go to other towns so that He could preach, “for that is why I came,” He said. Miracles and healings were not the main thing for Jesus. Preaching was the main thing.

Preaching was at the top of Jesus’ “to do” list. Preaching, not healing. Healing we like. Miracles we like. Preaching . . . well that’s another matter. But not really. We need to align our priorities with Jesus’ priorities. Too often we expect all the wrong things from God—that He will provide a quick fix—something to make us heathier, wealthier, and wiser. We want practical, easy solutions to all our stubborn problems. We just want to be happy. Is that asking too much? But all Jesus wants to do is preach the good news.

So why did Jesus bother with all the miracles? Why did He display His divine powers every so often? Why take the time to heal a little old lady with a fever? The miracles are a sign that reveal who Jesus is. The miracles of healing, in particular, show us that Jesus is the One behind every healing of every disease. Even if Jesus had never gone to Peter’s mother-in-law and taken her by the hand, her healing would still have been the work of Jesus. For every healing is ultimately the work of the Christ. The miracles just leave out the middle man—be that the doctor, the surgeon, the pharmacist. The miracles make it plain as day that Jesus is the master healer. They don’t call Him the Great Physician for nothing.

Do you believe that? Do you believe that Jesus Christ healed you when you had the flu? Do you believe that Jesus Christ healed you when you underwent surgery—when you twisted that ankle, broke that hip, sliced that finger? Very often we don’t believe it. But the miraculous healing of Peter’s mother-in-law should at least teach us this: Behind every healing, behind every pill, behind every therapy, physician, specialist and nurse—behind every last one of them stands Jesus. Through them all Jesus is working for your good—keeping you in good working order so that He can work through you too—lifting you up off your duff to start serving those around you, just like Peter’s mother-in-law did when she was healed.

But understand this: Jesus didn’t come to fix the world’s problems through miracles. He didn’t come to deal with demons and diseases and death by performing miracles. No, the way Jesus dealt with all that was for He Himself to die as your substitute—to take your punishment, to bear your sicknesses and sorrows, to endure the just wages of your sin. On His cross and through His death, Jesus drags all our demons and diseases and sins into the black hole of His death—swallows them all up forever. Jesus’ ultimate healing work is not to dole out band-aids and pills, but to die and rise again. Death and resurrection is the way Jesus works.

Notice I said death and resurrection. Because Christ is risen, it means that every prayer you’ve ever prayed for healing will be answered positively and affirmatively on the Last Day, in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Whenever we pray for health and healing, that prayer is always, ultimately, answered by God with a “yes.” We just don’t know when or how that “yes” will come to pass. You might be like Simon Peter’s mother-in-law and jump up out of bed and head off to start working in the kitchen. Or you might spend a few more days in bed. Or you might spend the balance of your life on earth in hospitals or other care facilities. Or you may die. But then and there God’s “yes” will be wondrously revealed to you.

Peter’s mother-in-law died one day. Peter died, too, along with Andrew, James and John. All those diseased and demonized people who Jesus healed in Peter’s front yard in Capernaum—they all died too. One day you and I will die. And there won’t be any easy answers or quick fix miracles. But Jesus will be there, as He always is. Jesus will come alongside of you, take you by the hand, and lift you up from sin, death and despair. Jesus will lift you up to be with Him. And then all those prayers for health and healing you ever prayed will find their “yes” and their “amen” in the wonder of your resurrection. All your sighs and groanings and tears and prayers—Jesus heard them all, and in His death and resurrection He’ already done something about them. They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.

The healing of Peter’s mother-in-law is such a “minor” event in the ministry of Jesus; but even in this minor event, there is major comfort for you. Consider the scene one last time. Jesus, having just cast out a demon from a man in the synagogue, enters Peter’s humble abode. Into this lowly, little world of Peter’s house Jesus comes—where the dirty dishes and dirty laundry are piling up, and the floor is sticky, and a poorly-trained terrier is jumping on the furniture and barking up a storm—into this domestic mess strides the Lord of heaven and earth. The lady of the house, apologizing for the mess, mentions that it’s been hard to keep up because her old mother has been sick.

And immediately Jesus heads off to check on her. They clear the way to the back bedroom where the woman lies sick, quickly pulling down the unmentionables hung out to dry, never expecting a man to venture into that space—never dreaming that the Messiah would want to be bothered by a feverish old woman. But Jesus doesn’t bat an eye. Nothing gives Him pause. To the bed and the feverish, flustered woman He comes. There can be no mistake. Jesus is there just for her—exclusively, unmistakably for her. He says not one word, but takes her by the hand, lifts her up, the fever disappears, and she heads for the kitchen. Big deal? Yep. Big deal! From that day on that woman was never the same again. Why not? Because she knew that she was precious to Jesus. She—the old lady with all of her faults and failings and false teeth—with all of her crackling bones and aching, arthritic joints—she was precious to Jesus.

And you are, too. Jesus Christ comes today into your messy world—into your domestic mess. Whatever worry plagues you—whatever causes you to be feverish and flustered—whatever it is that fills you with fatigue and weariness—Jesus doesn’t bat an eye. Nothing gives Him pause. To you He comes. “Take and eat,” He says, “This is my body given for you. Drink of it all of you, this is my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” And with these gifts He lifts you up from all that would drag you down. And you rise up to depart in peace. And you head off to serve those around you in the vocations and the estates where God has placed you. Big deal? Yep. Because in your hearing of these words—because in your eating and drinking of this holy food—you are given to know that you are precious—you with all of your tears and fears, your sins and transgressions, your wounds and sicknesses—Jesus Christ comes to you, today, with healing.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.