The Greatest Miracle of Thanksgiving

I shouldn't be surprised.

Yet, there are times I'm caught off guard during my study time in God's Word.

Once again, I just can't seem to let go of the story of the ten lepers.

(Told you a couple of weeks ago there was so much more to this story!)

Here's the passage where I spent the bulk of my time this week. And, I suspect I'll be returning to it one more time.

Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then He said to him, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well."

(Luke 17:17–19, NIV)

This week, I landed on six words.

"Your faith has made you well."

Wait a minute!

Wasn't this tenth leper already made well?

Wasn't he cleansed along with the other nine?

Yes.

And that's where digging into the original language becomes so helpful.

Luke uses two different Greek words in this account.

First, Scripture tells us that "as they went, they were cleansed."

The Greek word is katharizō.

Cleansed. Purified. Healed of a devastating disease.

But when Jesus speaks to the one who returned, He uses a different word.

Sōzō.

A word that can mean to heal, rescue, deliver...

Or SAVE.

It's the same word frequently used in Scripture when speaking of salvation.

And suddenly...I'm pondering the magnitude of what Jesus has just said.

Could it be that Jesus was declaring something far greater than physical healing?

Ten were cleansed.

But, one returned in faith.

And to that one, Jesus declared:

"Your faith has made you well."

The other nine received a remarkable gift. Their diseased bodies were restored.

But even restored bodies eventually die.

This one?

The Samaritan.

The foreigner.

The one who fell at Jesus' feet in humble worship and thanksgiving...

Jesus' words point us toward something eternal.

Not simply healing from disease.

But, the saving grace of God.

Not merely a restored body.

But, a restored relationship with the Giver of life.

No longer leprous of skin; but, by grace through faith, no longer separated from God by sin.

The foreigner who came as an outcast was welcomed into something far greater than the community from which he'd been excluded.

The Kingdom of God.

No longer far off; he was brought near.

He saw beyond the miracle to the Miracle Maker.

And the Miracle Maker offered him something greater still.

Now, here's the thought that has stayed with me...

When Jesus acts in compassion toward those who desperately need Him...

And we watch someone respond to His grace with genuine faith, humility, and worship...

WATCH!

Open your eyes!

Because we may be witnessing the greatest miracle of all.

Not merely a changed circumstance.

Not simply answered prayer.

Not even the healing of a broken body.

A soul being saved!

A life redeemed.

A sinner welcomed into the family of God.

The Kingdom of God expanding before our very eyes!

And THAT is the greatest miracle worthy of celebration!

It's just a thought...

The Unexpected of Gratitude

Five words have haunted me since last week’s post.

So, I’m revisiting the story of the ten lepers that Jesus healed.

In recalling the story, you know that only one returned to worship and give thanks to the ONE GREAT ENOUGH to heal him of this devastating disease.

That one just happened to be a foreigner.

“He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him — and he was a Samaritan (Luke 17:16)."

And, he was a Samaritan.

Five words.

A Samaritan.

One despised by the Jews.

One belonging to a people group that had experienced generations of hostility and rejection.

And yet...

The doubly cast aside made the extra effort to return to Jesus.

He KNEW!

He knew he what it meant to be rejected.

To be doubly unclean.

To stand on the outside looking in without hope.

But now, the outsider was healed.

Restored.

Made whole.

It was the outsider who recognized and glorified God.

He saw beyond the miracle to the Miracle Maker.

But, what about the others?

What kept them from returning?

Were they excited about their healing and just forgot?

Was there some sense of entitlement that because they were “Jewish (alluded in the story, not specified)” there was an element of “having a right to healing?”

Or were they simply so focused on the gift that they lost sight of the Giver?

We aren’t told.

Yet, it makes me wonder.

Because I know how easily entitlement can creep into my own heart. 

How quickly I can begin to expect God’s blessings rather than marvel at His grace.

How subtly pride can replace humility.

How spiritual blindness can keep me from recognizing the GREAT WHO behind every good and perfect gift. 

Maybe that’s why those five words have lingered with me?

And, he was a Samaritan.

So, another heart-check in the midst of our Season of Thanks. 

Have I allowed pride to creep in and rob me from an attitude of gratitude? 

Have I developed a subtle sense of entitlement, forgetting that everything I have is a gift of grace?

Has spiritual blindness—or at the very least, myopic, tunnel vision—kept me from seeing all that my God IS? From falling at His feet with a humble heart of worship From glorifying Him wholeheartedly?

Am I so busy enjoying the gifts that I forget to worship the Giver?

It's just a thought...

A 10% Return...

Ten were healed. 

All lepers.

Their skin ulcerated...issuing a foul discharge.

At its worst, the disease would have left them, as described by William Barclay in his Study Bible:

Eyebrows gone.

Vocal chords thinning, leaving a raspy/hoarse voice.

Nerve endings numb (which in many cases left them with missing appendages)...

Eyes glazed over and staring.

Muscles wasting away.

Progressively dying.

Shunned by society.

The ten had come seeking Jesus, and found Him along the road, traveling somewhere between Samaria and Galilee.

They kept their distance, as was the Law.

But, despite the difficulty in talking, they cried out for compassion...mercy...help...an answer to their most difficult prayer (ten voices are more easily heard than one)...

They'd, no doubt, heard the stories of Jesus healing other lepers...

I don't know if they expected the response they received, but they listened (and, they did EXACTLY what He said):

"Go and show yourselves to the priests (Luke 17:14a)."

The outcome exactly as they'd hoped...

"And as they went they were cleansed (Luke 17:14b)."

Ten were healed.

Ten received answered prayer.

"One returned to Jesus when he saw that he was healed (Luke 17:15)."

Just one!

He recognized there was a GREAT WHO behind the answered prayer.

"He fell on his face at Jesus feet [in worship] - Luke 17:16"

There is only one response to a GREAT WHO.

Humility.

There is only one realization on the presence of teh GREAT WHO...

I have received what I could never deserve.

And there is only one fitting response to Him;

WORSHIPPING IN GRATITUDE.

"He gave Jesus his thanks (Luke 17:16)."

There's so much more to this story...

For now, this is enough.

I am left to ponder.

Am I the 10%

Or the 90%?

Do I get so caught up in the joy of answered prayers that I forget to turn around?

To fall at His feet?

To recognize the GREAT WHO behind every good and perfect gift?

We've set aside a day in America to give thanks during the coming month...

But, perhaps Thanksgiving isn't so much about setting aside a day...

As it is about remembering to turn around.

To return to the Giver.

To fall at His feet.

To recognize His grace.

And to say,

"Thank You, Jesus."

So, over the next month.

May our hearts remain humble.

And may our recognition of God's gracious gifts be loudly proclaimed!

May we be the ones who turn around!

And, that's just a thought...

Grieved Enough to Act

 It grieved me bitterly (Nehemiah 13:8a, NKJV)...

There are those things that weigh heavy on our hearts…

…and, there are those things that are HEAVY on our hearts.

We’ve all experienced both.

The weight of the burden.

The depth of the grief.

The piercing sorrow.

The poking finger of anguish.

The wishing that what our eyes see is not reality.

It’s how Nehemiah felt when he returned to Jerusalem.

He’d seen the wall finished.

He’d experienced the joy of revival.

He’d returned to serve the King of Babylon with all things well in Israel.

But, when he came back.

What he left and what he returned to didn’t look the same.

Oh, how fast the slide downward, when godly leadership disappears.

The temple had been defiled.

In fact, Nehemiah’s greatest enemy was given a room there.

And, the temple courts had been turned into a marketplace.

Those who served in the temple were being neglected.

The Sabbath was being treated like an ordinary workday.

God’s people were intermarrying with the surrounding nations.

Parents had stopped teaching their children the language and ways of their people, AND, more importantly, the ways of their God. 

Oh, how great the spiritual decline!

He could have just left things alone.

Played the nice guy.

Turned a blind eye.

Kept the peace.

But, his heart was grieved.

He was deeply displeased.

And, there comes a time, when we just can not be silent when God’s Word and His Ways are being ignored. 

So, Nehemiah-the-confronter emerged…

Not because he loved conflict.

But because he loved God too much to pretend everything was fine.

To set about putting things right once again.

Calling people back.

Waking them up. 

To remind them of the strength and joy found in the Lord. 

Nobody wants to be the bad guy.

Nobody particularly enjoys being the one who says, “This isn’t right.”

But when the people of God live in such a way that the watching world sees little evidence of the holiness, power, and goodness of the God we claim to follow, perhaps accountability is one of the first steps toward change. 

And, I admit it.

Confrontation is not my forte.

But maybe the greater question isn’t whether I’m comfortable confronting.

Maybe it’s whether I’m grieved enough to speak when speaking is necessary.

Because sometimes what the Church needs isn’t another comfortable word to tickle ears.

Sometimes, we need a wake-up call.

So, I wonder…

Can I be that Nehemiah when necessary? 

Can I love the Lord, His Word, and His people enough to speak—even when silence would be so much easier?

And, that's just a thought!