“Another time Jesus went to the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there.” (Mark 3:1 NIV)
I am reading through the gospel of Mark with a few students and yesterday I came across the man with the shrivel hand. He was in the synagogue on Sabbath, doing his best to worship, to serve God and others despite his infirmity. I wonder, is it his right hand or his left? Does it matter? What can you accomplish with one hand? How did it happen? Was he born with this ailment or had it simply happened along the course of his life: exposure or arthritis, what was his story? And was he hurt about it, hung up on it? Didn’t seem to be, Jesus didn’t directly address his sin. No, He spoke directly to his physical dillemma.
“”Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored.” (Mark 3:5 NIV)
That’s it. That’s all we read of the man with the shriveled hand, in Mark anyway. This story is included in all three of the synoptic gospels. Luke lets us know it’s his right hand, his working hand, but really, don’t we need both? Matthew compared the man to a sheep in a pit, reminding us that a severe ailment can make the world go dark if we allow it. Jesus’ confirmed the man’s value – confronting the lie that the infirmed are expendable – and then went and head heals him, despite the Sabbath set-up.
In all three gospels, the man’s hand is completely restored. Matthew lets us know it is as just as sound as the other one. This is miraculous: not just the healing but the return of strength, also. Jesus did in a moment that which would have required months of physical therapy to accomplish.
I read this story yesterday and the Holy Spirit pricked my heart, “What’s your shriveled hand, Anna?” He wouldn’t let it go. I couldn’t brush Him off.
“What’s your infirmity?”
What hurts? What hold you back? What keeps you up at night? What is it that restrains you from fulfilling Kingdom purpose?
We read of the pharisees and realize our enemy does not want us to be healed. To him, we are merely bait in an elaborate set up. But Jesus has an entirely different agenda. He’s here on mission, ready to uncurl our fist and set us free. He heals because He is moved with compassion, because He loves His people.
I ask again, what is your shriveled hand?
Jesus spoke, but the man stretched. The man cooperated with the work God is doing in his story. Did it hurt? Did it require a whole lot of push and a little pain to regain full and total use of his hand?
I had to sit with this text for a good long while, cradling my own emotionally withered hand. I can see how it’s held me back from the calling I’m created to live out. I want to be healed, don’t you? I imagine Jesus coming by and speaking to my shriveled appendage, somehow restoring it completely. I sat with my Savior, cooperating with His effort, flattening my upward palms in my lap.
“I spread out my hands to You.”
A quick search yields the address and I flip through paper-thin pages, near-frantic to find the rest of the reference. I’m shocked at the application of David’s ancient lament laid across today’s pandemic.
“You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and I cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief. I call to You, Lord, every day; I spread out my hands to You.” (Psalm 88:8-9 NIV)
This pandemic, maybe even the events preceding, have attempted to cripple our hearts. We are set away from our fiends and family, fiercely afraid of infecting one another. We are confined and we cannot escape the affects of the virus on our world. But we are not without option. Every day, like David, we can choose to spread our hands before the Lord, even with tear-stained faces. We can cooperate with our healing by stretching toward Him.
Spreading our hands indicates a lot. We put our hands in the air expressing surrender. We open our palms for receipt; gifts are deposited into waiting hands. We lift hands in worship. And what do we do when the lights go out? We feel our way through the dark with our palms out in front of us.
Lord, we are realizing our witheredness. There’s a part of us that’s crippled, either from birth or by injury. The source does not matter, You can heal it. You can speak and we can stretch. We can cooperate with Your healing by putting our hands in the air; ready to worship, surrender, receive and fumble our way into a brighter future. Amen.