Do the Word

It is Depends Underwear, not the Lord Jesus, that advertises, “Get back into life with Depends.” By contrast, the Scriptures portray Jesus healing people not in order to get them back into life but rather to catapult them headlong out of normalcy and into a new way of life that is distinctly in Kingdom territory.

There is of course real truth to the idea that Jesus healed many whose illnesses had caused them to become socially outcasted–the woman with the issue of blood, the lepers, those who were demon possessed and always throwing themselves into fires and such. But notice that when Jesus heals them, he seldom says, “Now get back to normal.” Instead, he frequently says things like, “Stop sinning” and “Return home and tell everyone what God has done for you.”

In fact, Jesus was puzzled and put off when nearly all the lepers he healed in one group just  went back into life. He praised the one who returned. And it’s hard to overlook that when Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law, she jumped up and started to serve him.

Jesus’ compassion is never short-sighted. He would not heal someone only to consign them back into the same-old same-old of the sin-drenched world. His healing always opens the door to new self-identities for people, new relationships for them with God and with others.

At the same time, Jesus’ healings are not an effort for him to buy sin-stained stock at fire sale prices. In other words, Scripture never portrays him as responding to the “God-if-you-heal-me-then-I-will-serve-you-more-than-I-would-otherwise” offers we humans often make. Why would he? He is the God of grace, and our works are as filthy rags in his sight. Our works are means of grace he uses to bless us, not himself.

Healing is never a means to an end. It is, however, a gateway to an abundant life and a repudiation of business as usual. Whether the body is healed now or later (or when a new body granted to us in the resurrection), the forgiveness of sins–a topic Jesus nearly always brings up when he heals–is always offered to us, and with our acceptance of it the start of something really big.

I can recall even as a young kid in the Methodist Church being puzzled and mildly amused by the confession liturgy the congregation would drone through every week. In my eight year old sensibilities it loosely came across like this:

Whole Entire Congregation drones: “We have done a lousy job again this week, Lord.”

Lay Leader: “It’s OK. God isn’t upset about it. Try to do better next week.”

The Whole Entire Congregation didn’t really sound terribly troubled about having done a lousy job, and the Lay Leader didn’t sound altogether excited that God was willing to let the week’s bygones be bygones. So the whole ritual puzzled me and seemed rather ineffective and ineffectual.

Sadly, as I grew up and away from my liberal church upbringing and into an evangelical heritage, I saw that many evangelical Protestants having encountered the same thing, dealt with it by discarding not only the droning liturgy but the practice of confession itself.

I think we evangelical Protestants have not even the slightest clue how much that discarding would have shocked the Protestant reformers and broken their hearts. Luther, for example, who held that the whole Christian life was an embodiment of repentance, believed fervently that the Christian should participate in three types of confession:

• Confession to one’s pastor
• Private confession to God
• Confession to the church

He was passionate, of course, to make certain Christians knew that in confessing to their pastor it was not the pastor who forgave sins but God, and that the pastor’s role was one of soul care or midwife.

Already in his time, however, Christians were beginning to toss confession overboard. Fast forward half a millenium later and what remains is confession flotsam–general confession liturgies in mainline Protestant churches, and comprehensive absolution without any confession in evangelical circles.

Enter Randy Asburry’s awesome post, Comfort From Anonymous Confession? Essence: This is not hard to figure, people. Healing and comfort become real when confession (to God and regularly in the presence of others who can hold us accountable) is specific and followed by absolution (pronounced by real live people in person), which is the gospel proclamation of the forgiveness of sins. Asburry is especially troubled by the notion of Internet confession or salacious anonymous tell-alls:

I also puzzle over the misguided notion that merely confessing sins–whether online behind the anonymity of a user name and password, or writing them on a piece of paper and throwing it into the fire, etc., etc.–is enough. That seems too much like feeling sick, having the symptoms of the flu, and merely saying to myself, “I have the flu.” Merely getting to that point still hasn’t given me the true healing and restored health that I need!

Only the Absolution can do that, where sins are concerned. Absolution is the real medicine, the real “stress reliever.” Here’s how the Apology of the Augsburg Confession says it: “We also keep confession, especially because of absolution, which is the Word of God that the power of the keys proclaims to individuals by divine authority” (Apology XII:99, emphasis added).

So to summarize:

• Confession: Specific. Offered to God. In  the presence of accountability partners.
• Absolution: Gospel rooted. Glued to confession. Like day following night.

No droning, no generalities, no anonymity. That medicine has expired and should be tossed from the cabinet.

And the medicine we previously tossed from the cabinet due to personal discomfort is the one we desperately need to bring back.

Why does talking about the Work of Mercy of healing freak out non-freaky Christians so easily?

Because most of the writing that’s done about healing emphasizes healing technique, which is a misplaced emphasis because God never healed anyone due to the technique of the healer.

If, instead, we can focus not on technique but on God’s great desire to heal, well, that makes the subject a whole lot less freaky.

It is God’s nature to heal. You only have to take so much as a sidelong glance at Jesus in the Gospels to see how much time he devotes to the practice. And yet, as you’re taking the sidelong glance, do note also how little time he devotes to teaching his disciples the techniques of healing and how much time he devotes to clearing up their misconceptions about God.

Like the misconception that God would rather a sick person suffer through worship in the synagogue to demonstrate his or her devotion instead of getting healed. The Father, said Jesus, is not like that. If there’s a worship service and someone’s ill, everyone should stop and the person should be brought before God in order to be healed.

There’s nothing, you know, freaky about that. That’s just good solid insight into the nature and character of God.

We can ask all kinds of questions like “Why doesn’t God heal everyone?”, but we should never doubt that God loves healing more than he loves ceremony, and that Jesus portrayed healing as a simple matter rooted in the character of God rather than in a hard-to-master, arcane technique.

To that end, then, I want to encourage you to be faithful to follow Jesus’ lead and James’ command to pray prayers of healing for the sick every time you encounter someone who is ill. One way to do that and to avoid getting freaked out in the process is to learn a simple prayer of healing that you can grow into. As you know, I’m a big fan of growing into prayers–learning the prayers handed down to us by our theological forebears so that we don’t cower in the face of big human challenges like illness. Mrs. Foley taught me the Korean saying, “Imitation is the mother of invention.” That means that before you start inventing anything new, imitate the work of a master so that you can grow into it.

I hasten to note that in commending a sample prayer to you I am not commending a focus on technique. Instead, I want you to see how simple, straightforward, and plain a prayer of healing is. This way when you run into someone who is sick, you can catapult yourself bedside without hesitation and say, “You know, God would want me to stop and pray right now for you to be healed. What he does with my prayer is his business, but I have no doubt that that is how he would want me to pray because he is no great fan of illness. Illness doesn’t stop him from achieving his purpose in you, but that sure shouldn’t stop us from doing what Jesus did, which was to regard illness as an interloper each time he came across it.”

With that in mind, here’s a prayer from the Lutheran Service Book that you can learn this month. Write it out on a card and put it in your wallet or purse if you need to. But practice with it this month, recalling that Christ always confronts illness with healing. You should too, and leave the result in the Lord’s hands.

Almighty God, Father in heaven, watch over Your child [Name],  now afflicted with sickness. Mercifully spare the life You have given. Relieve [his/her] pain, guard [him/her] from all danger, and restore [his/her] health according to your gracious will, that [he/she] may be raised to a life of faithful service to You; through Jesus Christ, our Lord.