Finding Ourselves in Scripture, Part 1 - Just One of the Crowd?
One of the things I love about scripture is when I see myself reflected in the pages. In the first chapter of his letter, James encourages us to "look carefully into the perfect law that sets you free... do what it says and don't forget what you heard" so that we won't be like a person who glances at themselves in a mirror and immediately forgets what we look like (1:22-25). And the writer of Hebrews assures us that "the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires" (4:12).
As a person who is constantly seeking to know who she is, I find these verses extremely comforting - and somewhat frightening as well.
But isn't that what the scripture is for? To show us the truth of who we are, and the truth of who Jesus is, and the truth of how to reconcile the two? Because praise the Lord, we CAN be reconciled!
I've discovered a way to engage in meaningful interaction with the Word that involves using my imagination to place myself into the story. Stick with me, theology majors. I'm not going heretical on you. I read carefully through the passage and examine it - asking myself, "What is happening in this story? Who are the major - and minor - players here? What is their motivation? What do my senses tell me about this event - what do I see, hear, smell, feel, taste?" And I ask the Lord what He is communicating to me through this scene. And finally, where do I see myself? With whom do I most identify?
One of the first passages I ever studied this way was Mark 2:1-12, the story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man. The story was very familiar to me - the four men who bring their paralyzed friend to meet Jesus and end up cutting a hole in the roof to get to him. First, I just want to say that I hate that I am so skeptical when I approach these really familiar passages, thinking I won’t get anything out of it. But I’m also glad that God proves me wrong. *If you aren't familiar with the story, take a moment to click the link above and read it, won't you?
I read through the passage and considered what the people there were experiencing: a crowded, perhaps stuffy room, where people were straining to see and hear this rabbi, Jesus. A home so crowded that people were spilling out the doorway and blocking the entrance to anyone else who might come. I felt the heat of their bodies, smelled their closeness, and listened closely above the sound of their movements to hear the voice of Jesus.
Next, I considered the men outside the building. Trying to get in the front door. Seeing it was a futile effort. Talking together to consider their options before heading up to the roof. I felt their eagerness and their frustration. I wondered who was the leader, the one who was able to think outside the box and look for another way in. I thought about the love they had for their friend. And I thought about the friend himself and wondered how he felt about the determination of his friends to get him inside the house.
I wanted to be the men. Such a love! Such compassion! To be willing to dig through the roof of someone else's home because you believed so strongly that if you could just get your friend to Jesus, all would be well.
But there isn't anyone that I am trying to take to Jesus. Forgive me, Father.
Perhaps I was the paralytic, wanting so desperately to be made well, trying to keep my hope alive as my friends schemed their way to Jesus. But no, I wasn't finding myself in such a place of need.
I turned my attention to the crowd in the house. Was I the Pharisees, listening with skepticism? Was I the homeowner, wondering how I would clean up all of the mess once the meeting was finished and everyone had returned home? I saw no reflection of myself in them either.
Finally, I realized where I was. I was in the crowd. I was listening to Jesus, glad to be there. I soaked in the atmosphere and thought how blessed I was to be a part of it. But I didn't know there was someone who desperately needed to be brought to Jesus. It didn't occur to me to look around me, or to ask, or to see if I could help.
And there I was, laid bare before the Holy Spirit. Convicted, to be sure. Yet also spoken to. Be more aware of those around you. See people with Jesus' eyes. Look for those who need to be brought to Him. What a blessing to hear the tender words of the Father, not chastising but rather calling me to be more than I am at this moment, and promising to enable me to do as He asks.
As a person who is constantly seeking to know who she is, I find these verses extremely comforting - and somewhat frightening as well.
Because, after all, who wants to see themselves
completely open and exposed?
I've discovered a way to engage in meaningful interaction with the Word that involves using my imagination to place myself into the story. Stick with me, theology majors. I'm not going heretical on you. I read carefully through the passage and examine it - asking myself, "What is happening in this story? Who are the major - and minor - players here? What is their motivation? What do my senses tell me about this event - what do I see, hear, smell, feel, taste?" And I ask the Lord what He is communicating to me through this scene. And finally, where do I see myself? With whom do I most identify?
One of the first passages I ever studied this way was Mark 2:1-12, the story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man. The story was very familiar to me - the four men who bring their paralyzed friend to meet Jesus and end up cutting a hole in the roof to get to him. First, I just want to say that I hate that I am so skeptical when I approach these really familiar passages, thinking I won’t get anything out of it. But I’m also glad that God proves me wrong. *If you aren't familiar with the story, take a moment to click the link above and read it, won't you?
I read through the passage and considered what the people there were experiencing: a crowded, perhaps stuffy room, where people were straining to see and hear this rabbi, Jesus. A home so crowded that people were spilling out the doorway and blocking the entrance to anyone else who might come. I felt the heat of their bodies, smelled their closeness, and listened closely above the sound of their movements to hear the voice of Jesus.
And then I asked myself, "Who am I?
Who can I really identify with right now at this point in my life?"
But there isn't anyone that I am trying to take to Jesus. Forgive me, Father.
Perhaps I was the paralytic, wanting so desperately to be made well, trying to keep my hope alive as my friends schemed their way to Jesus. But no, I wasn't finding myself in such a place of need.
I turned my attention to the crowd in the house. Was I the Pharisees, listening with skepticism? Was I the homeowner, wondering how I would clean up all of the mess once the meeting was finished and everyone had returned home? I saw no reflection of myself in them either.
Do I even know anyone who needs Jesus that desperately?
And if I do, do I know how to bring them?
So where do you find yourself when you gaze into Mark 2:1-12? And what might there be for you to see in that place?
Give it a try today. Allow the Word to cut through to your innermost self. Take the risk of exposure. And don't walk away from it the same as you are right now.
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