“And they *came, bringing to Him a paralytic, carried by four men. Being unable to get to Him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above Him; and when they had dug an opening, they let down the pallet on which the paralytic was lying. And Jesus seeing their faith *said to the paralytic, “ Son, your sins are forgiven.””
Mark 2:3-5 NASB
Years ago I worked at a local hospital in the food service department. There was a young man who was a devoted follower of Jesus. Any conversation anyone had with him inevitably led to a presentation of the Gospel. The other workers, myself included, loathed spending any time with him. He was persistent. He was bent on sharing Jesus no matter what. It was an urgent message that could not wait regardless of what impediments there might be in the way.
Years later I encountered him during a staffing for a client during my time as a vocational counselor. He recognized me and I him. I said to him, “your testimony was not in vain.” He closed his eyes and I could tell that he as rejoicing.
In his way he was like the four friends who went so far as to tear the roof off a building to get their friend to Jesus. My former coworker endured great derision in his relentlessness. Even so, he planted seeds of faith regardless of how people perceived him.
His faith has been a lesson for me these many years. He was a fool for Jesus, and wiser than the people of the world he lived in. I am daily challenged to be such a fool, willing to forsake everything to see people saved. I bear the burden of the world’s rejection as I pray for others, write daily and use every available opportunity to share my faith.
We all know paralytics, in a spiritual sense. People caught up in sin who will likely never darken the doorway of a church, or so we think. People who run from us at the slightest mention of sin, the need for salvation, or even the name of Jesus. They appear powerless to lay aside the lifestyles that consume them. Often we opt to leave them be, write them off as bound for hell.
For twenty-seven years my mother prayed for me. I was adrift in a life of sin, and to the casual observer bound for an eternity in hell. Still she prayed. Almost every day she asked “did you pray?”, or “did you read your Bible?”. I used to hate the question because it made me feel bad. I now know that it was the conviction of the Holy Spirit. When I said no, I could tell it hurt her. My resistance was breaking my mother’s heart. Still she prayed. By her faith in her faithful Savior my life has been changed.
I urge you, keep praying, keep sharing, keep yanking at those roof tiles. Be relentless!
THE PRAYER CHAIR IS OPEN! Send me your requests!