You Have A Choice, What Will It Be?

I spoke at the Ladies' Retreat this past weekend. The theme was "A Whine and Cheese Event" with the idea being that the Christian life is difficult, and sometimes we may turn to whining, wishing this life were as easy as cheese. But Jesus tells us we will have trouble in this life, and that even He had to suffer. I wrote this story to illustrate the two ways we can deal with Jesus. It's up to you.

 

Malchus, Simon, and James were the original Three Musketeers. They did everything together, including their practical jokes. “Stay behind the bushes until the chariot rounds the curve,” 13 year old Malchus had instructed. James, younger by a year, crouched low, laughing to himself as he imagined Rhoda shrieking in fear. Malchus and Simon whistled the warning from the tree down the road. James jumped out to grab the horse’s reins, but this wasn’t calm Moses plodding along with Rhoda’s chariot. This was a Centurion’s chariot and horse. The massive horse reared and came down pawing. Malchus and Simon ran away as James was trampled under the horse’s hooves. It happened in seconds; it lasted for years.

 

Pain shot through James’ head as he remembered that sunny, carefree day. Distant memories flooded back: his mother’s cries, his sister’s pale, taut face, his father’s angry glare as the doctor left the house. James was now an invalid. He would be carried with all of the other beggars into the temple grounds where a few meager coins might be tossed his way each day.

 

Malchus and Simon still talked with him sometimes, but their lives had gone on without James. Malchus had married Rhoda, and they raised a brood of ten boys, all crazy like their father. Simon was quieter than Malchus, but success had not forgotten him either. Simon was a trader with a fleet of sixteen ships under him. And what of James? Poor, dependent on others, a nothing. James’ nephew, Felix, was in charge of wheeling James to the temple and back home each day.

 

James never asked his nephew to stay and help him into the healing pool waters. It probably wouldn’t work anyway. James could tell Felix couldn’t stand to be near him. Felix never talked as he rolled his uncle to the temple in the morning. Placing some bread and a flask of milk in James’s pocket, Felix would turn tail and run as quickly as he could before the other school kids saw him.

 

Yesterday, just before dusk, Felix had brought an extra portion of cheese to James. It was almost the Sabbath, and James would be expected to stay at the temple so that no one would have to carry him. Sometimes James was allowed to stay home for the Sabbath, but more people came to the temple on Saturday, so tossed coins were more in abundance that day. James couldn’t afford to lose the extra income.

 

So here James sat, chewing on a cheese rind and wincing each time the waters in the pool were stirred. People walking by tossed their coins and kept on walking. Slowly, James stopped chewing and looked up. Someone had stopped and was staring at James.

 

“How are you today, James?” the man asked.

“Same as always,” glared James. “Just sitting here on my golden pallet waiting on the servants to bring me some figs and wine.”

“How long have you been like this?” the young man probed.

“Thirty-eight years. Are you dropping some money or just moving on?”

“Would you like to be healed?”

“Well of course I would, are you crazy? I don’t suppose you would like to hang around and help me in the water,” scoffed James.

“Pick up your mat and walk,” the young man quietly said.

 

And that was it. A prickly feeling began in James’s toes, and like the needles the doctors had used, pricks of pain sent fire through James’s legs. Suddenly, James felt a strength and power that he remembered from his boyhood. Almost involuntarily, James bent his legs and jumped from his pallet. Scooping the bedroll up in his arms, James took off leaping ecstatically down the corridor toward the great gate he had so often been wheeled through.

 

Suddenly, James was stopped by a young Pharisee dressed for the Sabbath. “What are you doing carrying your things on the Sabbath, Man?” scolded the Pharisee as he grabbed James by the arm.

“The man who healed me said to take my mat and walk. It’s not my fault,” James said haltingly.

“What do you mean “healed” you?” questioned the religious student.

 

And from there James told his story, of a practical joke gone wrong, of 38 years of misery and loneliness, of frustration and fear, and then unexpectedly, healing strength.

“Who was this man who healed you?” the Pharisee questioned, but in James’ desire to escape the temple grounds, he had not asked the man’s name.

 

Dropping his bedroll, James made a quick escape and headed off for home again. But it wasn’t to be. Just as he rounded the corner, he bumped into Malchus and Rhoda. They were bringing their new grandson to the temple for his dedication.

 

“James? Is that you,” Malchus bellowed. “What happened? How can this be?”

Staring at Malchus and beautiful Rhoda surrounded by their children and children’s children, James couldn’t take it. He bolted and ran the opposite direction. Grabbing hold of a cart handle, James stood panting trying to catch his breath.

 

“So you have skipped walking and gone straight to a marathon, I see,” laughed the stranger who had healed James.

“Who are you and what do you want?” James glowered at the man.

“I want only to heal your heart. You must forgive the sins of youth and move on with your new life. Stay in the temple and worship the Lord. Sin no more.” And then the crowd around the man engulfed him again as people called out, “There he is! There is Jesus!”

 

That was the last straw. James had heard of this man. How dare he lecture James? Hadn’t he just spent 38 years of his life looking up from the ground at everyone else? James would turn Jesus in, that’s what he would do. That would teach him! Sin no more, huh? It wasn’t James who had sinned, it was Malchus. Malchus had stolen Rhoda away from James along with his entire life. Let’s see what this Jesus fellow has to say about that!

 

Finding the young Pharisee, James approached him and named the man who had restored James’s strength. It was Jesus. James was taken into an inner room, one he had only glimpsed before, and given a tray of meats and breads. Tell us all you know, they began, and soon a plot began to take shape.

 

Meanwhile, Jesus moved on with the crowd. They were laughing and bumping into each other as the noonday sun began to beat down on them. Stopping to drink some water, Jesus was jostled by the crowd.

 

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

Laughing at Jesus’ remark, Peter said, “In this crowd you want to know who touched you?”

 

But Jesus wouldn’t let it be. Furtively glancing around the crowd his eyes fell on Susannah. She was hiding her face beneath her head dressing, but her frightened eyes quickly dodged up to the man standing in front of them all. Slowly Susannah stepped forward. “It was me,” she whispered. “I touched your cloak.”

 

The crowd hushed and Peter and Thomas grabbed hold of her arms to see what Jesus would do with this forward woman. But Jesus only tenderly asked why she had touched him. The gentleness in his voice gave her the courage to speak further.

 

“My husband and I wanted to have a baby so desperately, but the children always died before they could see the day,” Susannah explained. “Finally, the last child was too much for me. I have hemorrhaged for twelve long years now. My husband has been kind, but I know that he needs an heir. I have spent all my money on doctor’s bills and advice, but nothing helps. I thought if I just touched your cloak, surely such a holy man could heal me. As soon as I touched your robe I knew I was better. My whole body was strengthened and energized. I am sorry I tried to take away from your power. Please forgive me,” Susannah pleaded.

 

“Dear woman,” Jesus said. “It is not my power but your faith that has healed you. Go in peace.”

 

Both James and Susannah received healing from the one they called Jesus, but they responded very differently. One turned Jesus over to the authorities; the other turned herself over to Jesus. Will you give in to bitterness and despair, or will you accept the healing that Jesus offers? He heals all; the choice is yours.