THE FIRST RESORT
I believe it was William Shakespeare who once wrote, “Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Joseph Heller, in his book Catch-22, made a slight modification to Shakespeare’s line. He wrote, “Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them.” Well I’m going to put my own little spin on Shakespeare’s line as well. Be not afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them. Keep that thought in mind as we move on.
Dr. Kenneth Cooper is recognized as a leader in the international physical fitness movement and is credited with motivating millions of people to exercise. In fact, Dr. Cooper is also credited with coining the word aerobics in a book he wrote in 1968 by that title. Dr. Cooper – one of the world’s leading experts on physical fitness – has often commented that of all the professional people he sees, ministers are in the worst physical shape.
A 2002 Duke Divinity School study seems to back that statement up. According to that study, 79% of all male clergy are overweight, and 52% of female clergy are over-weight as well. In spite of these glaring statistics, nearly 75% of the clergy rate their health as either “excellent” or “very good.”
That very same study reported that 60% of the clergy never doubted their call to ministry, and 70% have never thought about leaving their profession. The good news is, we clergy know that God has called us. The bad news is, apparently we clergy hear Krispy Kreme calling us as well.
As many of you know, I had a little blood clot issue after some shoulder surgery about a year and a half ago. I was hospitalized for several days and after I got out, I had to give myself Heparin shots in the stomach for three or four days. Now I lift large amounts of weights and even did a little boxing when I was young and foolish. I am not afraid of much, but needles make me weak in the knees. (I’m afraid of dentists too, but that’s another story.)
The nurse at the Meadville Medical Center was explaining how I was to give myself the shot. She said, “Just take hold of a little roll of fat, push the needle in, and press the top.” I said, “How am I going to do that? How am I going to push a needle through these rock-hard, washboard abs?” The nurse said, “Lift up your shirt.” So I lifted up my shirt and she said, “You won’t have any problem.” She was all business!
How did that saying go? Be not afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them. Ladies and gentlemen, in that particular instance, I truly had humility thrust upon me.
Such was the case with Jairus in the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark. Who was Jairus? The Bible simply calls him “one of the leaders of the synagogue.” What does that mean? It means Jairus must have been a man of considerable importance. He would have been the administrative head of the synagogue. He would have been president of the board of elders. He would have been responsible for the conduct of services. Oh, he may not have taken part in the services – the rabbi would handle that – but he was the one responsible for the services taking place. The leader of the synagogue was one of the wealthiest, most important, most influential, and most respected people in the community.
How would Jairus have seen Jesus? Truth be told, he would have seen Jesus as some-thing of a rabble-rouser. Here’s this man upon whom the people are designating the title of Messiah, and he doesn’t seem to deny it. Here’s this man who heals on the Sabbath, eats with tax collectors, and talks incessantly about the kingdom of God. Jesus was doing his level-best to upset the religious establishment – the religious establishment Jairus was sworn to uphold. Surely Jairus would have seen Jesus as a threat to all he held dear.
But there was a problem. Jairus had a little girl, and he loved that little girl more than life itself. For her, Jairus would have moved heaven and earth. His little girl was ill – she was at the point of death – and Jairus was desperate. So he put aside his pride, he put aside his prejudice, he put aside his dignity, and he put aside the thought of what people might say. Jairus came to Jesus, dropped to his knees, and begged Jesus to come and heal his daughter. He came to Jesus as a last resort.
Do not be afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them. Jairus had humility thrust upon him because of the condition of his daughter. And much to Jesus’ credit, he responded to Jairus. A lot of us might not have been so gracious. A lot of us might have made Jairus squirm. “How do you like me now?” is the catch-phrase of the day. Jesus, however, responded to Jairus’ pleas. Of course, by the time he arrived at the home of Jairus, the little girl had already passed away. Yet Jesus went in and raised her from the dead. The point of the story is that Jesus has power, even over death. Jairus humbled himself, and God granted him a miracle.
Now I could end this sermon here on a pretty high note. Jesus raised that little girl and Jesus will raise your loved ones as well. If I ended this thing now, you could all leave in a few minutes and beat the Methodists to Perkins. But something happened on the way to the home of Jairus, and that’s what I want to focus on now.
Jairus made his plea, and Jesus acquiesced. As they made their way to the home of Jairus, a large crowd surrounded them and people were pressing on every side. But there was this woman in the crowd – a woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for 12 long years. She’d been to many physicians and no one had been able to help her; in fact, if anything, they’d only made things worse. This woman would have been considered ritually unclean; she would have been ostracized from society. She would have had to keep her distance from her friends. She would have had to keep her distance from her husband and from her children. She must have felt alone in this world. No one could help her, so she turned to Jesus as a last resort.
As Jesus moved through the crowds and the crowds pressed upon him, she came up with a plan. If she could just touch him – maybe just touch the hem of his garment – maybe then she could be healed. So that’s what she did. She maneuvered her way through the crowd to where she thought Jesus would soon pass. And as he passed, she reached out and in one desperate lunge, she got her hand on Jesus’ cloak. It worked! She felt the healing immediately! As she slunk back into the crowd, she must have felt jubilant at her success. After all these years, she was finally healed and no one was the wiser.
But then Jesus stopped abruptly and said, “Who touched my garments?” His disciples thought he was crazy. “You see the crowd,” they said. “How can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” But the woman who had been healed knew exactly what he meant. Trembling, she came and fell down before him and confessed what she had done. Jesus said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
Ah, another happy ending. “Can we stop this sermon now?” you say. “We can still beat the Baptists to Perkins!” Sorry, there’s one more thing that needs to be said. Jesus said to the woman, “Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Most of our English Bibles say that this woman had a disease. The Greek word mastigos can be translated “disease.” But more literally it means a punishment or a chastisement – specifically, a punishment or a chastisement from God. So what Jesus is really saying to that woman is this: “Go in peace, and be healed of your chastisement from God.” Are we insinuating here that God caused her affliction? How could a loving God ever cause one of his precious children affliction?
I’m going to tell you a story about how a father once caused his child affliction, but I will not mention any names. Once, a father was coaching one of his sons in football when he heard a lot of sirens off in the distance. Seems there was a brushfire in the neighborhood and the fire department was rushing to put it out. Shortly thereafter, a woman told that father that her son, his son, and another boy had started that fire.
A few minutes later, that father’s son and the other boy came strolling up to the foot-ball field. The father said to his son, “What’s with all the firetrucks down the street?” The two boys shrugged their shoulders and said, “Beats me!” The father growled, “Don’t you lie to me!” as he watched the color leave the boys’ faces. “Get in the truck. We’re going down to the police station.”
There the truth came out. It was the third boy who started the fire, but the father’s son was guilty by association. The boys got their hands slapped a little bit, but didn’t get into too much trouble. As the father drove his son and the other boy home, he said, “You guys got off easy. The next time, you won’t be so lucky.” The father knew he had done the right thing when his own son said, “There won’t be a next time.” The other boy just snorted and stared out the window.
A father clearly afflicted his son, but he did it to teach him a lesson. The police had no idea who started the fire. The boys could have gotten off scot-free. Instead, one boy was afflicted – by his own father – and he grew from his affliction.
Can we perhaps now see how God might afflict us or chastise us for our own good? No one knows the story of why the woman with the hemorrhage was afflicted. Regard-less, though, it did draw her to Christ, did it not? Having experienced the grace of God for herself, she would never be the same. Perhaps God sometimes withdraws from us as well in an effort to get us to turn to Christ…in an effort to get us to dig a little deeper. Perhaps that’s exactly what God is doing when we sometimes go through what we call the dark night of the soul.
Something else strikes me about this story of the woman reaching out to touch the hem of Jesus’ robe. Think of the crowds pressing upon Jesus as the Church. People come to church for any number of reasons – some good, some not so good. Some come out of habit. Some come because it’s the right thing to do. Some come to watch their children perform. Some come because it’s good for business. Some come to see what so-and-so is wearing. Some come to count the hypocrites. But some come because they have a deep, pressing spiritual need. They have something that lays so heavily on their hearts that they just want to scream, “God! Can you hear me? Will you help me?” It’s something that no one else knows about – perhaps it’s something they dare not even speak – and nobody seems to be able to help. Some come to the church out of a deep, pressing spiritual need.
There’s someone like that here today. God wants to help you. God wants you to turn to him, and he will do whatever it takes to get you to do so. That’s where that empty, hopeless, helpless feeling comes from. To you, I say, “God is here. God can help you. And he will help you, if you let him.” Don’t make God the last resort. Instead, try making God the first resort. Amen.
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