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Martin Luther once noted that the subject matter of lawyers is
justice, of physicians it is medicine, but of pastors it is sinful
humanity and a gracious God. When pastors go to the hospital they go
not as therapists or clinicians, but as shepherds entrusted with the
speaking of words that kill and heal. They have no techniques that
will vanquish suffering or chase away the anguish of a diseased body.
Counselors may help patients cope. Nurses may alleviate pain.
Surgeons may extract deadly tumors. Pastors come for another reason
altogether. Sent from the Lord, they come to speak a word of
absolution that renders a divine verdict on sinners, “I forgive you
your sin.”
It is the same word that Jesus spoke to the paralytic who was brought
to Him (see Matt. 9:2-8). Through His authority as the Son of Man,
Jesus attends not simply to crippled limbs and unresponsive muscles,
but to a life gripped by sin bound by death.
Many today would avoid the language of sin. Over a quarter of century
ago Dr. Karl Menninger of the Menninger Foundation wrote a book under
the title Whatever Became of Sin? Menninger wondered why it was that
clergy were unable to speak clearly of sin and instead turned to the
categories of psychology as they attempted to make sense of
disordered lives, yet avoided naming the root cause. We hear less of
sin and more of meaninglessness and victimization. Sin would locate
the responsibility with us, but who is responsible for
“meaninglessness”? To speak of sin brings the target of sin into
the picture. To speak of sin one must speak of God. Evil is that
which we abhor. God abhors sin.
It is less threatening, so we reason, to see ourselves as victims. To
be a victim is to have some evil done to you by your own unreliable
and unpredictable body. Victims are made by an unseen West Nile Virus
or SARS that secretly slips in as the pestilence that stalks in
darkness; the destruction that wastes at noon day to use the words of
the Psalmist. Victims are made by blind chance–being in the wrong
place at the wrong time, the cruelty of another human being, or a
faceless “they.” He is a cancer victim, we say of the man who
suffers with a tumor. She was the victim of a tragic accident, we say
of the woman whose car just happened to be in the path of an out-of-
control truck. Groups are often described as victims of an oppressive
society.
The paralytic healed by Jesus was the victim of some disabling
disease. Robbed of the gift of mobility, he was at the mercy of
others. He had to be carried to Jesus on a stretcher. But Jesus does
not address him as a pitiful victim of some random virus that
commandeered his limbs or of some freakish accident that left him in
this miserable condition. Jesus goes to the heart of the matter. The
Lord declares, “Take heart, My son, your sins are forgiven.”
Behind the paralysis is a deeper bondage than confinement to the bed.
Where is God in all of this? “You have God as you imagine Him to
be,” says Luther. What can this paralyzed man imagine about God?
What can he conclude about God apart from Jesus Christ? Is God angry
with him? Is this disease the heavy hand of God punishing him for
some transgression? Does God have any care at all for him? Is God
oblivious to his need, so far removed from him in might and majesty
as to be unconcerned with his misery?
We are not told anything at all about the inner thoughts of this
nameless man. We see him only in his need. His friends bring him to
the Lord. Hoisted upon a stretcher, he is carried to Jesus with the
expectancy, yes, the faith that Jesus could and would invigorate his
powerless limbs and set him on his feet. The word was out. The
stories of Jesus’ miraculous works–the way He cleansed a leper and
restored health to the centurion’s son, His deliverance of the demon-
possessed from the devil’s grip, and His authority over wind and
wave–were broadcast throughout the region. Maybe Jesus would provide
relief for this man as well.
Jesus utters a sentence, but it is an unexpected sentence. He says to
the paralytic, “Take heart, My son, your sins are forgiven.” With
these words, Jesus shows Himself to be the Savior. His greeting is
the vehicle for mercy. Luther observes that “the kingdom of Christ
is in the sentence ‘your sins are forgiven’; here there are no
works, no merits, no commandments or law–only pure grace and
kindness.” Jesus’ words give the paralyzed man nothing that he
must do to attain health. The Lord comes not to provide him with a
regiment for physical therapy or a plan of spiritual renewal that he
is to work at to help him cope with his misfortune. Jesus invites the
man to “take heart,” that is, to have courage. With these words
the Lord puts all anxious thoughts to flight, giving him courage in
the face of his affliction. Calling him “son,” Jesus shows Himself
to be there for this man as his helper and Savior. He has not come to
mock him in his infirmity or crush him with condemnation. He has come
as his Lord with words of peace and absolution: “Take heart, My son,
your sins are forgiven you.” It is that message that pastors bring
to bedsides and waiting rooms. The Rev. John T. Pless is an Assistant Professor of Pastoral Ministry and Missions at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana, and Editor of For the Life of the World.
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