Beyond Words

Mark 7:31-37

May 28, 2017 • Mount Pleasant UMC

As if we needed another reminder, we couldn’t help but be surprised, shocked and filled with all sorts of other emotions as bombs exploded at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, Great Britain Monday night. Initial reports had 22 dead and 59 more wounded in an attack ISIS claimed responsibility for. I’m wondering, though, what your response was. We’ve gotten so immune to the broken places in our world that sometimes it’s hard to even feel anything about such things happening. On Tuesday, I emailed a friend of mine who is serving with Cru or Campus Crusade in Birmingham, England, about 2 hours from Manchester, and asked her what the mood was in that place, because I remember what it was like here when our home soil was attacked. Sarah said this: “I think the mood is sad and shocked. I am hopeful that the body of Christ across the UK can be a light for Christ in the darkness and hold out the hope that only He can provide.”

It is a broken world. Terror shows up when we least expect it. Children are abused, people die of cancer, and parents abandon their children. We talked a bit about this last week, as we looked at the storms we find ourselves facing. But the world’s brokenness goes beyond that, as we encounter ecological challenges and political scandals and moral failures that surround us each day. The question for us today is how do we respond or react to the brokenness we encounter? Some folks today like to vent their frustration or other feelings straight to social media. Facebook, Twitter and the like are frequent places where we say things we wouldn’t say to another person’s face. The advent of social media has given everyone a voice, and you don’t have to be an expert or even understand a situation to have an opinion. What was once only shared over coffee conversations now have become rants for the whole world to see. For others, a response to brokenness comes out in physical ways; today, frequently, that comes out in the form of aggressive driving. I thought of this when I read a story by Gary Thomas. He tells how, after reading about in the Bible being humble and gentle and bearing with one another in love, he jumped in his car to run some errands. The first car he ended up behind was going five miles an hour below the speed limit. Have you ever been in that situation? Have you ever been that car? When that car finally signaled they were going to turn, he says it took them forty-five seconds—an eternity—to actually make the turn. A policeman who observed Thomas running up on the bumper of the car in front of him then stopped him and gave him a ticket for reckless driving. Shortly after that, he got another ticket for driving forty in a twenty-five-miles-per-hour zone. Should I ask if you’ve ever been that car? Then, shortly after that, he cut someone off in a parking lot only to notice the driver wave at him. The driver he cut off was his pastor. Thomas realized he needed to work on being humble and gentle rather than allowing his frustration to come out in physical ways (Simply Sacred, entry for May 22).

And then there’s another way we respond, and that’s with anger. Sometimes, if the anger builds up over time, we can end up being a ball of anger, or having what psychologists call “anger issues.” Like this guy.

VIDEO: Anger Issues

Okay, so I confess: I chose that clip because this past Thursday was the fortieth anniversary of the release of Star Wars, but when we say it’s the 40th anniversary, it makes me realize I saw it in the theaters on its first release and I’m not getting any younger. But nevertheless, sometimes we react to the brokenness and the reality that “things don’t go my way” with anger, sometimes destructive anger, sometimes anger that wounds, hurts or injures another person—physically, emotionally or spiritually. As followers of Jesus, however, our goal should be to respond to the brokenness of the world the way Jesus would, and so we come to a story in the Gospel of Mark where Jesus does just that. He responds to the brokenness in front of him with a sigh.

During these weeks, we’ve been looking at some snapshots of Jesus found in the Gospel of Mark, a Gospel that was written out of the remembrances and preaching of the Apostle Peter. As I said a couple of weeks ago, we get more of the emotional life of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark than we do elsewhere, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this as you’ve been reading, but we also get more of his actions than his teaching. By his actions throughout this Gospel, Jesus challenges us to stretch beyond who we are right now to become more and more like him. That “stretching” is why we’ve titled this series, “Stretch Marks,” and each week we’re taking the lead from Jesus as we seek to make a difference in this broken world.

This morning, we come to yet another healing story, but as I wrote in a blog a couple of weeks ago, Jesus approaches each healing differently. There’s not a “standard form of healing” because each person and each situation is unique, and that’s certainly true in this story. First of all, let’s consider where Jesus is when this happens. The travel route Jesus and the disciples are on has confused scholars, largely because if we take it literally he goes north to go south (Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, pg. 180). Sounds like perhaps he was trying to get through a roundabout or two! But remember, Mark is not intent on giving us a chronological order; he’s telling us stories grouped by subject to make a point. That’s what a “Gospel” is; it’s not a strict biography. The only thing these locations Mark mentions have in common is that they are not in Galilee. Jesus seems to be intent on staying away from those in Galilee who are threatening his life. He’s in territory that is strongly Gentile, though not exclusively as there would have been Jewish colonies in each of the cities. And even though he’s in pagan, Gentile territory in the Decapolis, he still seems to be primarily addressing Jewish listeners (cf. Lane, The Gospel of Mark [NICNT], pgs. 265-266).

Again, we don’t get any indication of what he is teaching the people, partly because it seems he is interrupted in his teaching or at least in his journey as people bring him a man who is deaf and who “could hardly talk” (7:32). Some of your translations will say “mute,” but the word used there indicates it’s someone who is completely without speech. It’s a man with a speech impediment. Most likely, this speech problem came along later in life (otherwise, how would he know how to speak after he is healed?) and is more perhaps a stuttering or a slurring of his speech than actually not being able to talk. More than likely, he had become deaf late in life and that changed his ability to speak, or made it only possible to speak if he exerted great effort. He has, as one person has translated it, “inarticulate language” (cf. Lane 266; Wright, Mark for Everyone, pg. 97). And he knows what he is missing. That’s why people bring him to Jesus. He is evidence of the broken world. He is part of the brokenness of the world, a world where disease or injury can rapidly change or steal a person’s abilities. He is witness to the world you and I live in each and every day.

So his friends bring him to Jesus and the first thing Jesus does is to pull him away from the crowd. This man has probably been living with the stares and the discomfort that comes when someone with special needs is in the room and people don’t know how to deal with the need or how to respond to them. I’m thankful to be part of a church that welcomes special needs, that celebrates the great diversity of God’s children, and that supports the ministry of Grace Unlimited. But it’s not that way everywhere, and so for the sake of this man, in order to care for him and him alone, one-on-one, Jesus pulls him to the side. Then he does something we consider very strange. He puts his fingers into the man’s ears and then he spits on his finger and touches the man’s tongue with the spit. Eww, gross, right? Why does he do that? Is it part of the healing ritual? Not at all. We know from previous stories and experience by now in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus can heal with a word. There is no magic incantation he has to perform for healing to take place. No, what Jesus is doing here is communicating with the man to let him know what’s about to take place. He sticks his fingers in the ears to let him know those are about to be opened. And he touches the tongue with spit to let him know the tongue is about to he unwound. It was believed in first-century Judaism that spit had curative properties, so this man would have understood what Jesus was trying to say. He adapts his methods so that he can communicate directly with this one man, this broken child of God, this man who deserves healing as much as anyone. It’s a parable, a lived-out story (cf. Lane 267; Card, Mark: The Gospel of Passion, pg. 102).

It’s what Jesus does next, though, that attracts my attention and imagination. Mark puts it this way: “He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, ‘Ephphatha!’” (7:34). For one thing, this is one of the rare times we hear Jesus speaking in his own language. “Ephphatha” is an Aramaic word, the language Jesus would have spoken, while most of the New Testament is written in Greek. This is a literal word from the mouth of Jesus, and it is a command: “Be opened!” But it’s the sigh before that which interests me at this moment. It’s a moment that is beyond words, as Jesus “groans” for creation. It’s the same thing Paul says the Holy Spirit does on our behalf when there is grief or agony, a moment that words cannot adequately speak to. In Romans 8:26, Paul writes, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Just a bit before that, Paul describes our own groaning, our longing for creation to be completed: “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:23). We sigh, we groan, we recognize that this world is not the way it should be. It’s broken. It’s not the way God intended it to be. It’s in need of redemption. We often groan out of our weakness, that there is often nothing we can do to bring a permanent fix or full healing to the situation. We recognize our limitations in fixing the brokenness, and so we groan, we sigh, we might even weep.

But that’s us. The bigger question here is why does Jesus groan? He knows he can and will heal the man. Why the deep sigh? I often ask the same sort of question about Jesus as he stands outside Lazarus’ tomb in John 11. Lazarus is dead, and Jesus came too late to heal him while he was sick. He’s sealed up in the tomb, having died four days before. And Jesus’ reaction to Lazarus’ death is found in verse 35. It’s the shortest verse in the English Bible, only two words; it’s the verse every Sunday School kid volunteers to memorize. “Jesus wept.” But why does Jesus weep? He knows he can and will raise Lazarus. And even if he didn’t plan to do that, he of all people knows that death is not the end, that the worst thing is never the last thing. So why the weeping, why the sighing? Well, I don’t know for sure, but it seems to me that there is something in those moments that moves Jesus beyond words, something that stirs his spirit to cry out, “This is not the way it was supposed to be! Death, crying, brokenness, mourning, pain, deafness and inarticulate speech, blindness and leprosy—none of this is the way it was supposed to be!” I believe Jesus groans, sighs, even weeps because in those moments, the brokenness of the world is just too much, even for him. You see, we do not serve a God, a savior, who is what the Greeks called an “unmoved mover.” We worship and serve a God who is filled with compassion, who suffers with us, who is in the mess and the muddle with us, and who hurts when we hurt. And even when he knows he is going to do something about it, it still stirs him. The brokenness of the world, the way we have allowed sin and disease and anger and all the rest of it to affect others breaks his heart. Jesus’ deep sigh goes beyond words and demonstrates the truth of Psalm 103: “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (103:8; cf. Card 102). “Jesus sighs, not with the pity of the crowd, but with the compassion of the Christ” (McKenna, The Communicator’s Commentary: Mark, pg. 160).

Our English word “compassion” means “to suffer with.” So here’s our stretching question this week: do you “suffer with” the brokenness of the world? I’m not talking about our own suffering, our own struggles, dare I say our own storms. Do you “suffer with” those who are marginalized, those who (like this man who comes to Jesus) are left out or shamed or broken by the world? Do we mourn the brokenness of the world—or to put it another way, are our hearts broken by the things that break the heart of God? One of my personal heroes is the British politician, William Wilberforce, who was one of the youngest men in history to be elected to Parliament. But when he gave his life to Christ, he considered leaving office to become a pastor. It was his friend William Pitt, who went on to become Great Britain’s youngest prime minister, who changed his mind. Pitt told Wilberforce, “Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple and lead not to meditation only, but to action.” Wilberforce then began to pursue what he believed were the two “great objectives” God had set before him: the abolition of the slave trade and the “reformation of manners,” or what we might call the return of morality to the society. Wilberforce fought on both fronts all of his life, and on one particular day when the slavery battle had been long and hard, he opened his Bible and found a letter tucked inside that he had received some time before. It was from John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, written four days before his death. Wesley had written to encourage Wilberforce in his pursuit of healing the world’s brokenness: “Unless God has raised you up for this very thing, you will be worn out by the opposition of men and devils. But if God be for you, who can be against you? Are all of them together stronger than God? O be not weary of well doing! Go on, in the name of God and in the power of his might, till even American slavery (the vilest that ever saw the sun) shall vanish away before it” (Jackson, ed., The Works of John Wesley, Third Edition, Vol. XIII, pg. 153). Wilberforce went on to win the battle and he saw British slavery ended just days before his own death. His whole life he had allowed his heart to be broken by the things that break the heart of God.

There are others, many others, of course, including people like Joni Eareckson Tada who was paralyzed because of a diving accident many years ago. At first she railed against God for “doing this to her,” but as she began to listen to the groans and sighs of the Holy Spirit, she found growing in her an increasing brokenness in her heart for those with special needs and physical challenges. She founded a ministry called Joni and Friends that serves those with disabilities around the world and challenges the church to adapt to welcome these folks. A similar passion grabbed Tim Tebow some time ago and caused him to start the Night to Shine which we participated in last year and will again next year, a ministry dedicated to letting those with special needs know they are kings and queens and valuable in God’s eyes. Another person who comes to mind is Chuck Colson, special aide to President Nixon and implicated in the Watergate scandal. When he got out of prison, he swore he’d never go back but he could not forget what he had seen and experienced, and more than that he could not forget the words of another prisoner who had said to him as he left, “You’ll forget us.” Chuck Colson’s heart was broken by the Holy Spirit’s groaning over prisoners, the forgotten ones, and his ministry, Prison Fellowship, continues to reach out to prisoners and their families in significant ways; we participate in a small way every year with the Angel Tree ministry, giving gifts to the children of prisoners that are in our own community. Even more recently is the ministry of International Justice Mission which is seeking to end the practice of human trafficking and seeking justice for the poor.

I could go on and on. These are just a few examples of the many, many ways God’s people through the centuries have allowed their hearts to be broken by the things that break the heart of God. These are, by and large, big examples. So it’s easy to sit here and think, “Well, there’s nothing I can do about all of those issues. I’ll just feel sorry for them and pray for them.” Prayer is good, always. Pity is not. What Jesus shows us is that the path for following him includes prayer, being broken, and then acting. He doesn’t just “sigh” and send the man on his way. Mark puts it this way: “At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly” (7:35). The phrase Mark uses is very descriptive; it sort of means the man’s tongue was tied up in knots and what Jesus did allowed it to be untied (Wright 98). Jesus repaired the brokenness. He untied the knots. He brought healing by his actions.

And we may not be able to do exactly that, but if we’re going to become more like Jesus, we ought to be asking this question: what are we doing to bring healing to the broken world, to the people and the problems around us? Are we part of the solution or part of the problem? As individuals and as a congregation, are we part of the healing or just part of the sighing? To be like Jesus, compassion should lead us to action. So that might lead you to volunteer with Grace Unlimited, our special needs ministry, and offer to be a “buddy” with one of thirty-five kids and adults who come regularly to experience God’s love. You might not think you’re doing “much,” but just being present allows you to be a conduit of Jesus’ love as well as give parents and caregivers a much-needed break. Or being broken might lead you to step up and get involved with Celebrate Recovery, our ministry that seeks to break the cycle and end the power of addictions in people’s lives as well as in our community. Friday nights here at Mount Pleasant are for healing hurts, habits and hang-ups—the brokenness that includes all of us!

There are other ways to push back the darkness that surrounds us. On Mondays, we have a group of ladies (though I think men would be welcome, too) who meet downstairs near the kitchen where they knit and crochet. They call themselves the Yarn Spinners, and they are making beautiful things for a purpose. Periodically, you see shawls and blankets and such things appear here at the prayer place; maybe you didn’t know that those are all donated and taken to those who are facing surgery or those who are facing death or even just to those who are lonely and need to be reminded of the love of God. There’s nothing magical about them, but they are tangible reminders that someone is praying for them and that God loves them. Out in our community, you can choose to mentor a child or find other ways to serve people who are in desperate need. We live in one of the lowest-income counties in the state; we’re number 71 out of 92 counties in terms of per capita income, and affects so many spheres of life: education, access to services, healthcare. There is tremendous need here for ministry with families and children. Read to a child. Take your unneeded items to 14th and Chestnut to bless and family. Donate time to the Crisis Pregnancy Center. Get involved in adoption. Reach out across racial lines. Have a cup of coffee with a teenager. The possibilities are endless for us to be able to do our part in healing the brokenness of our community and our world.

Now, let me be clear: I’m not trying to overwhelm you, but there is a lot of darkness around us, but not everyone is called to do absolutely everything. Even Jesus did not heal everyone; he healed some as a sign of the coming of the kingdom. What I am saying and what I wholeheartedly believe is that while none of us are called to do everything, we are all called to do something. We’re all called to stretch our hearts and our faith to become more like Jesus in allowing our hearts to be broken by the things that break the heart of God. So here’s the question again: what are you doing—or what are you willing to do—to bring healing to the brokenness in our world and in our community?

Now, let me turn a bit of a corner at this point, because sometimes the brokenness we most need healed first, before we can go out and transform the world, is within ourselves. I’m not necessarily talking about physical healing, though that’s certainly possible. But for some of us, there are spiritual or emotional or psychological scars that need healing. I love the way Tom Wright puts it, reflecting on this particular passage: “Healing then, and perhaps healing now (though we don’t always realize it), can never be simply a matter of correcting a few faults in the machine called the human body. It always was and is, and perhaps supremely so in Jesus’ action, a sign of God’s love breaking in to the painful and death-laden present world. It was and is a pointer to the great Healing that will occur when the secret is out, when Jesus is finally revealed to the whole world, and our present stammering praise is turned into full-hearted song” (Wright 99). Healing then, as now, is not just physical. It’s the healing of the whole person. And I believe Jesus longs for healing for his people—healing for the whole person. So this morning, as we are go to prayer, Pastor Rick and I will be down front here with vials of oil. Oil, you remember, is not magical but in the Bible it is a sign of healing and a sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit. And during this time, we’re going to invite you to come to one of us if you would like so that we can pray for healing for you. We don’t have to know the need or the specifics; if you’d like to talk about that, we’ll both be around after the worship service. But we want to make ourselves available to pray with you and for you, if you will allow us that privilege, for healing of your heart, your spirit, your body, your mind. We’ll anoint you with the sign of the cross as a reminder that Jesus, the one who sighs for creation, the one who is fully compassionate, is the one who heals you. Or perhaps you’ve felt the Holy Spirit’s tug on your heart this morning, and you’re beginning to see the places where he is breaking your heart. You’re invited to come and allow us to pray for that in your life as well, that you would be responsive to the word of the Spirit in you as he directs you toward places you can bring healing to our the world. So this morning, as the music plays, you are invited to come forward if you would like, to be anointed and to pray for healing in whatever form. This morning, I invite you to allow Jesus to “sigh” beyond words for you. Let’s be in a spirit of prayer.