Now a leper came to Him, imploring Him, kneeling down to Him and saying to Him, “If You are willing, You can make me clean.” Then Jesus, moved with compassion, stretched out His hand and touched him, and said to him, “I am willing; be cleansed.” As soon as He had spoken, immediately the leprosy left him, and he was cleansed. (Mark 1:40-42, NKJV).
This incident is recounted in all three synoptic Gospels, but Mark's version here, most likely dictated by the Apostle Peter, is my favorite.
In ancient Israel, those afflicted with leprosy (now called Hanson's Disease) were forced to separate from family, friends and society. By law, they were required to shout "Unclean! Unclean!" if they came near un-afflicted folks. They could only associate with other lepers while the disease inevitably killed their nerve endings and rotted their flesh. They became numb to physical sensation and were unemployable, forced into begging to merely survive. It was considered a righteous act by devout Jews of that time to give these miserable outcast alms, but it was also an offense of monumental, and sometimes murderous proportions for a leper to come in close contact with anyone else. There are accounts of stonings and mob-driven murder when these deep cultural prohibitions were violated. To the first century Middle Eastern mind, leprosy meant you were cursed by a righteous God for unforgivable sin. And if all this were not bad enough, leprosy is incurable.
For most of my life before Christ, I felt like a leper; unloved and unlovable, stumbling through life disconnected and despairing, without hope, without remedy, an outcast. Mostly, I wore a disguise, but underneath I was clothed in the ragged, threadbare and filthy garments of emotional leprosy. As I got older, I came to the insane conclusion that the best thing I could do was cultivate that leprosy. I reasoned that if I were unfit for society, then I would reverse the approbation and deem normal society unfit for me. It didn't work, and the despair infiltrated deeper into my life like a leaking cesspool. (I'm being crude again, I know.)
But then something changed. I wrote the following about 15 years ago. The intensity of my gratitude has not lessened one iota.
"...I didn’t know why at the time, but during Rebecca’s first year I began to change, and my leprous self fought against those changes tooth and nail. I didn’t want to feel that deepening love for my baby. I didn’t want to be able to feel Jean’s grief when I insisted she go back to work.
Very quietly and out of the blue, Jean started praying and reading a Bible that she had bought that August. Very tenderly, very wisely, very persuasively, she started introducing me to God.
In February of 1995 we came to Calvary Chapel…in Old Bridge, and after the first service I stood in the aisle with my coat on, tears streaming down my face. A man named Jack came up to us and asked if he could help. Then he went and got Ed, [the Associate Pastor at the time] and the both of them brought us into the Prayer Room and prayed for me.
For the first time in my life, I voluntarily and publicly admitted that I was indeed a leper; helpless,...incapable of anything worthwhile in my own strength. And I asked Jesus into my life, the same Jesus who had spoken and galaxies leapt into existence, the same Jesus who had been watching out for me since the day I was conceived, even though I had not asked, or known, and did my best to desecrate all His gifts of grace.
And He was moved with compassion, and He stretched out His hand and touched me, and immediately I was cleansed."
Before I knew anything else about being a Christian, I knew JESUS. THAT is what changed me, and compelled me, out of love and thankfulness, to learn all that I can about the One who died to set me free.
This incident is recounted in all three synoptic Gospels, but Mark's version here, most likely dictated by the Apostle Peter, is my favorite.
In ancient Israel, those afflicted with leprosy (now called Hanson's Disease) were forced to separate from family, friends and society. By law, they were required to shout "Unclean! Unclean!" if they came near un-afflicted folks. They could only associate with other lepers while the disease inevitably killed their nerve endings and rotted their flesh. They became numb to physical sensation and were unemployable, forced into begging to merely survive. It was considered a righteous act by devout Jews of that time to give these miserable outcast alms, but it was also an offense of monumental, and sometimes murderous proportions for a leper to come in close contact with anyone else. There are accounts of stonings and mob-driven murder when these deep cultural prohibitions were violated. To the first century Middle Eastern mind, leprosy meant you were cursed by a righteous God for unforgivable sin. And if all this were not bad enough, leprosy is incurable.
For most of my life before Christ, I felt like a leper; unloved and unlovable, stumbling through life disconnected and despairing, without hope, without remedy, an outcast. Mostly, I wore a disguise, but underneath I was clothed in the ragged, threadbare and filthy garments of emotional leprosy. As I got older, I came to the insane conclusion that the best thing I could do was cultivate that leprosy. I reasoned that if I were unfit for society, then I would reverse the approbation and deem normal society unfit for me. It didn't work, and the despair infiltrated deeper into my life like a leaking cesspool. (I'm being crude again, I know.)
But then something changed. I wrote the following about 15 years ago. The intensity of my gratitude has not lessened one iota.
"...I didn’t know why at the time, but during Rebecca’s first year I began to change, and my leprous self fought against those changes tooth and nail. I didn’t want to feel that deepening love for my baby. I didn’t want to be able to feel Jean’s grief when I insisted she go back to work.
Very quietly and out of the blue, Jean started praying and reading a Bible that she had bought that August. Very tenderly, very wisely, very persuasively, she started introducing me to God.
In February of 1995 we came to Calvary Chapel…in Old Bridge, and after the first service I stood in the aisle with my coat on, tears streaming down my face. A man named Jack came up to us and asked if he could help. Then he went and got Ed, [the Associate Pastor at the time] and the both of them brought us into the Prayer Room and prayed for me.
For the first time in my life, I voluntarily and publicly admitted that I was indeed a leper; helpless,...incapable of anything worthwhile in my own strength. And I asked Jesus into my life, the same Jesus who had spoken and galaxies leapt into existence, the same Jesus who had been watching out for me since the day I was conceived, even though I had not asked, or known, and did my best to desecrate all His gifts of grace.
And He was moved with compassion, and He stretched out His hand and touched me, and immediately I was cleansed."
Before I knew anything else about being a Christian, I knew JESUS. THAT is what changed me, and compelled me, out of love and thankfulness, to learn all that I can about the One who died to set me free.
