This morning in my Bible reading, I (re)read the story of the quadraplegic man whose friends bring him to Jesus. Today's time through was in Luke, which is the more familiar text to me. It's a story that I've heard many times in my life, and I even used to know a song about it (now lost somewhere between here and Vacation Bible School at Hamlin Reformed Church, I think). Yet, it's one of my favorite stories in the Bible.
Eleven years ago I was in the middle of a rough year. To call it a rough year is actually quite the understatement. I know I've shared this, but I had several family funerals, illnesses and funerals for family friends, and my husband and I separated. Through all this, I found it increasingly hard to get to Jesus on my own. I just didn't think I had the strength to do it. I would try, but I just felt so weary. A dear friend of mine said, "Beka, we'll carry you there."
Exactly. My friends would carry me. And they did. Just like the quadraplegic man with his four friends who carried him to Jesus and let nothing--even a climb on top of a house and the thatch roof--stand in the way of them setting him at the feet of the Savior. My friends did that for me. It was their pleasure, they said. They did it because they loved me, they said. They did it because it was an honor to them to bring me to the One who could heal my heart.
Fast forward through April and part of May and to a phone call from a friend. She called to tell me that the twin brother of my dear friend's husband had died. I was stunned. Our mutual friend was stunned. My dear friend was stunned. Immediately I phoned her. When she answered, she told me that she didn't know what to say or what to do. Without thinking, I said, "It's really not so bad. You just lie there." And then we carried her. It was our pleasure. We did it because we loved her. We did it because it was an honor to bring her to the One who could heal her heart.
Through the past 11 years, she's carried me again, and I've carried her. Together we've carried other friends, and I know that we will continue to do that. It always comes back around. And it's always an honor.
Surely it seems difficult to climb onto that mat and just lie still. The quadraplegic man had it made--he couldn't move. Too often we try to get up, because we just don't feel right just lying there. But that's our job. For that season, we have to just lie there, and it really isn't so bad. For other seasons, we get to carry. But if we never trust anyone to carry us, will they trust us to carry them?
Which side of the mat do you find yourself on right now? Are you carrying someone? Then you know the honor that is there. Are you lying on the mat, being carried? Then you know the love that is there. This is family. We're friends. We do it because we love each other. And because we know that there is no one else who can heal our hearts.
1 comment:
Love this. Love you.
I can't imagine a better evidence for Providence than our friendship.
I too used to know a song. I can't think of the beginning, but I know it ended with this brilliant rhyme:
"They were carrying a man with diseases,
And they lowered him down to Jesus."
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