Friday, 11 June 2021

Where are the other nine? (Joy in the Journey)

“Where are the other nine?”

Those words of our Lord Jesus search our hearts and press us about our own response to all that he has done for us. They come at the conclusion of his encounter with ten men who had leprosy. The incident in Luke 17:11-19 takes place on the border between Samaria and Galilee. A liminal place, a hinterland from which little of significance may be expected. But that is far from being the case.

They call to the Lord in loud voices, pleading with him, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” A recognition of his status and power; putting themselves in his hands. Their plight is desperate and they take the only possibility of healing with both hands.

He tells them to go show themselves to the priests - those who had the authority to verify any healing from the disease. They set off as lepers, clearly believing that, somehow, they would be healed as they went. They all do as he says. They trust him enough to go with his instructions. That kind of faith is notable and commendable and receives its vindication.

But it isn’t sufficient.

As they go, they see that their pleas have been heard; they are freed, cleansed from their leprosy. And it is at this point that a difference becomes visible between the nine and the one. One - only one - on seeing he has been healed, turns back, full of praise to God and thanking Jesus as he kneels before him. Only one makes the connection between his healing and the person of Jesus. That God was in this place and he hadn’t seen it, but now that he has he delights in offering his worship at Jesus’ feet.

The difference between him and the other nine is underlined by Jesus. This man alone, of the ten, is a Samaritan. An outsider. Rejected by the mainstream. Devoid of their privileges and opportunities. And yet he saw, he made the connection. And this man alone, of the ten, has experienced not simply healing of his body but the salvation of his soul: the Lord makes that so plain - all ten were cleansed (v.17) but this man’s faith has saved him (v.19).

The others had taken the gift and hurried on. Having demonstrated a kind of faith in Jesus they then fail to join the dots and unite their heart to him in worship. They received much - but squandered the opportunity to take it to its higher source. Their bodies were healed but their hearts were not changed.

Can you see how this calls us to face our own response? Are mercies received and blessings enjoyed translated into genuine worship of the Lord Jesus, for who he is and all he has done? Is our faith sufficient for receiving the gift but not the Giver? Is he more than a friend in need to you?

This incident shows us that we can be familiar with God’s kindness but remain strangers to a genuine relationship with him. It doesn’t have to be that way. We don’t want our knowledge of his saving power to be only skin deep. Even now we can do as the one did - turn back and fall before the Lord in worship that is larger than simple gratitude for his latest gift.

Where, indeed, are the other nine?

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Out of my bondage, sorrow, and night,
  Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into Thy freedom, gladness, and light,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of my sickness into Thy health,
Out of my want and into Thy wealth,
Out of my sin and into Thyself,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of my shameful failure and loss,
  Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into the glorious gain of Thy cross,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,
Out of life’s storm and into Thy calm,
Out of distress to jubilant psalm,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
  Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into Thy blessed will to abide,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward for aye on wings like a dove,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of the fear and dread of the tomb,
  Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into the joy and light of Thy home,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of the depths of ruin untold,
Into the peace of Thy sheltering fold,
Ever Thy glorious face to behold,
    Jesus, I come to Thee.

(William True Sleeper, 1819-1904)