The paralytic and her friends.

Dear one,

I write this song of our journey, your story, to tell you that to have carried you isn't/wasn't/won't ever be a burden, rather it is a joy. I write to tell of the journey of hope, what has been, or what will be - so that your faith would be encouraged, and that hope would burn ever brightly. For all that you are, you've changed us - each one who has encountered your path has left a better self.

Thank you for letting us along your journey.

Your four friends

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We've 'walked' this road for a while together now.

Your face is a light in my life, and I hope mine is to yours.

The dirt on my feet, the sweat in my brow,

the sores on my hand, from pulling your mat -

it's nothing compared to the weight you carry.

The Savior has come, they say even His cloak brings wholeness.

We've traveled far,

but the crowds overflow,

and there's no place to go.

We've pressed in, with no avail.

We've waited, with no success.

We've exchanged looks, our hearts ever burdened.

It's unorthodox, it's unruly, but it's all we have left.

We look to you, 'Friend, I know you can't hold on,

so we're taking you through the roof.'

We've tied you down, so our hands won't fail.

We've picked you up, on our backs we will make it.

Up to the roof, so precarious, so foolish.

But you've given up the fight, and we won't,

You may prefer to be safe, but we've come for Jesus.

We've wrenched the door open, with force beyond our own.

We've taken out the frame, because you can't even sit up anymore.

The tiles are no match for the love we feel for you.

This is our last chance, our last hope,

so we lay you on the bed, and tie the ropes to each corner.

Our eyes meet, us, we, all those that have carried you,

for the decades, for the moments here -

we have faith, because that's all we can do.

In the face of the hopelessness in your heart,

we have faith, we have carried the promise, so we lower you.

To the Savior, the Messiah, the one who speaks of life.

I know not what the Savior will do,

But we hope, pray, and believe....

As we lower you, and you come to rest,

He looks up to us, we four that carried you here,

and we tremble with fear, anguish and hope.

Friend, you may have lost hope, but our faith burns even ever so lightly.

We then hear Jesus voice, like calming waters,

He calls you "daughter, friend";

He had seen the faith.

He looks to you and says,

"your sins are forgiven you".

We know He is not pronouncing judgement,

rather speaking the freedom He has already given.

Jesus sees the fear of unworthiness,

the wonder of some sin that may have been committed,

the some thing to explain the loss you've endured...

Many have spoken, assumed it was a wrongdoing that you carry these pains.

Perhaps a disobedience, or pride that's made you fall.

But He declares "your sins are forgiven you".

You are free, you are loved,

You are accepted, the ailments, the paralysis is not a cause of sin,

of unworthiness or any action of your own.

Before your body is whole, He wants you to know,

"your sins are forgiven"; freedom.

I see your face,

you are grateful for the freedom.

They've said since that day, that you, the sufferer,

alone knew how that the great burden which pressed on your soul

and how it was removed at the Master's word.

But we know your heart hurts - you thought there would be more.

Don't give up yet.

I hear grumbling, the Pharisees again,

speaking what they think they know - but don't.

Accusing, blind, not too far from what we used to be.

I hear Jesus speak to them, and then again to you,

We press in to hear through the hole we laid you through,

He speaks:

"I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home.”

Our hearts stop.

Our faith holds on, but barely,

We wait to see - will you have faith to stand?

Will His words heal like we've seen before?

Half a breath passes, and our hearts leap at the sight.

Before everyone can respond,

we are running off the roof, heading towards the door.

We don't care if it's unruly, unorthodox, or any other matter -

we are pushing everyone out of the way, to the door.

There you are, standing in the doorway.

STANDING.

The mat - the place of your affliction now in your hand.

The feet that had once held horror to you, now beautiful.

The back that held you bound, holds you up straight.

The glow in you eyes like heavens first song.

The glory of God pouring through your very skin.

The people gasp, and point in awe.

We run to you in intimate embrace,

seeing our faith come to pass.

Many speak of the healing,

many have been brought to the Truth because of you.

It is a beautiful thing, a treasure to behold.

We dance in your dancing,

Just as we mourned in your weeping.

We laugh in the rejoicing,

Just as we held to faith in the sorrows.

To those that have lost hope,

we gather round and say "sister, the faith in your brother is strong enough to carry you".

To those that have faith,

we gather them up and encourage them to act, to believe, to pray.

The faith in my sister is stronger than my own,

and if tomorrow I too can not walk, I know -

You'd carry me in faith to salvation's place.

Give us, Lord, the same kind of faith with respect to thy ability and willingness to heal our souls. Give us to desire the pardon of sin more than any earthly blessing, or life itself. Enable us to believe thy power to forgive sins; then will our souls cheerfully arise and go where thou pleases.

(Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary)

Inspired by my best friends - don't forget your name.

And by Teddy Hart's sermons at Renovatus Church in North Carolina - check them out here:

"Seeing Strange Things"

http://renovatuschurch.com/media.php?pageID=5