I know that the
“healing” offered by many churches is only metaphorical, and is about as good
as a band-aid on an amputated limb. And
in fact, might even be worse than no healing at all, as it as empty as an
abandoned robin’s egg—a nice pretty blue on the outside—dried-up and rotten on
the inside.
Now, lest I be
painted as a cessationist…or as one who is against the healing which can occur,
I know this to be true: Jesus can heal
anything.
Anything. Did you hear that? Anything.
You got it…He can heal it.
He can heal blinded eyes and ears which can’t
hear.
He can heal skin
lesions and pimples.
He can heal
broken bones and broken hearts.
He can heal your
addictions. He can heal your pain.
He can heal your
scarred past and your marred marriage.
He can heal your
hopelessness.
He can heal this
country.
He can heal this
planet.
And yet, I know we’ve come to expect not so very much from the Very Much God of the
universe.
I know God loves to love on His kids, but His kids just
don’t expect any love, and thus, don’t ask for everything, let alone expect
anything.
I know the
“miracles” which we experience aren’t miracles at all—just the hype of
over-emotional places of worship.
I know Jesus
healed lepers, the blind, the lame, the bleeding, and the broken-hearted.
I know Jesus said
His disciples would do even greater things than He did.
I know they did.
I know we aren’t.
What the hell?
What would I give
for the church to once again claim its birthright and be the church? What would I give for a group of believers to
abandon their committees, slogans, mission statements, logos, coffee bars,
monogrammed Bible covers, and lighting schemes and instead, passionately love
one another, and the world around them…passionately love God…and show up
expecting God to move…expecting healing in their midst…expecting with joy for
Love to abound?
What would I give
for that?
My life. All of it.
Every dream, every wish, every desire…I’d give all of these.
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