a risk of faith
“As Jesus got out of the boat, a madman from the cemetary came up to him. He lived there among the tombs and graves…Jesus asked him, “Tell me your name.” He replied, “My name is Mob. I’m a rioting mob.” Then he desperately begged Jesus not to banish them from the country.”
“…She was thinking to herself, “If I can put a finger on his robe, I can get well.” The moment she did it, the flow of blood dried up…Jesus said to her, “Daughter, you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed! Be healed of your plague.” (Mark 5:2-3, 9-10, 28-29, 34).
Two people. One a madman, the other a sick victim. Both were not well. Both sought healing. Both took a step towards the Saviour and their lives were changed. They were whole again. Their sickness, their demons, left them.
I identify with both these people. Sometimes, I am the madman. My name is rioting mob. I am a conflict of desires, each wanting to rule over me, turning me into a civil war. It drives me mad that what I want to do, I don’t do, and what I don’t want to do, I do. There’s a longing to pursue righteousness and deep, profound spirituality. Yet I squander it on acts of lust, on self-conscious, independent living. Why? Why choose the path of a madman?
Some days, I am the sick victim. Led astray by the voices and noise around me, I am sick. I am not whole. My mind dreams of his wonders, but my heart is tangled up in confusion over why the world is the way it is. I can beat myself up sometimes, think I am a victim of my own bad choices. Destined for normalcy.
And yet, against all odds, both found Jesus. Both took a risk of faith. Both were made whole.
I love that phrase: a risk of faith. Because faith is most definitely a risk. We risk failure when we put our trust in something other than ourselves. Risk heartache when we believe so strongly in plans and promises no one has said will come to past. Who knows the mind of God? Why should we dare to put our faith in a Creator who works in ways no one can see? There are no guarantees in faith. Only courage.
But for those who do risk in faith, the result is healing. It is the gradual doing-away of that self-centred, me-first, sheep-led life and a restoration of nothing less than our sonship. A rebirth of a spirit that the world desperately needs, a selfless, grace-full spirit of our Creator-Father. The Spirit that guided Jesus is longing to guide us.
It means forsaking comfort, the familiar, the crutches. It means fighting through sin and walking, crawling even, towards the Son of God with healing in his wings. It’s so hard to break the shackles. So hard to move past victimhood. But healing awaits the bravehearts.
Oh God. I need you. I am your Son, but don’t live like it. The temptations are too great.
Come live in me, take over. I need healing. Teach me to take that walk towards you, to be restored. To take many risks of faith.
Come, come. Amen.
