Transcript
Narrator (0:00)
A leper came to him, begging him, kneeling down to him and saying to him, if you want to, you can make me clean. Mark 1:40 Almighty God, we are reminded of your absolute sovereignty and the limitless scope of your power. We humbly ask for a deeper understanding of your will for our lives. Grant us the wisdom to discern your plans, the patience to await your timing, and the strength to follow where you lead, even when the path is unclear. With earnest hearts we pray that your will will be done in us and through us. May our desires align with yours, and may our lives reflect your love, grace, and power. Help us to trust in your ability to transform, to heal, and to renew, just as Jesus did for the leper. In your holy name we pray. Amen. Thank you for praying with me today. You're listening to the Jesus Podcast. This month we're focusing on the miracles of Jesus, igniting our faith and filling us with wonder. If you want to support this podcast, be sure to follow and subscribe. Doing so will help others find us so we can share the story of Jesus worldwide. Joachim sat in the dust and scratched at a scab on his arm. He peeled it away, leaving pink, raw flesh underneath. He barely felt the pain. He barely felt anything. The ability to feel pain had rotted away with the rest of his body. Joachim tore some fabric off his robe and wrapped it around his open wound. Yet another limb was needed to be covered. Joachim was a ghastly sight. Leprosy had slowly stripped away his humanity. It had only been two years since the red spots on his legs had formed. What began as a mild blemish slowly progressed into large pustules, eventually turning into white, rotted flesh. Then came the soreness and stiffness in his hands and feet. Gripping a tool or holding bread became a chore. By the time he was too weak to help himself, he was cast out of the city. He was unclean, unwanted. Joachim might as well have been dead to the people who once loved and cared for him. He certainly felt dead. He had lost all color in his face, and the hair from his head and brows blew away with the wind. Joachim tucked himself away in the canyons outside the city, living off weeds, wild berries, and the occasional morsel of bread tossed in his direction. Joachim laid on the cold stone walls of his cave a and daydreamed about simpler times before his gum started receding and his teeth fell out. Before he had to place a bandage over his left eye, Joachim gummed an old piece of bread inside. He missed his teeth. Joachim missed the taste of bread, the smell of fresh rosemary, loaves and cheese. He missed a lot of things. Mostly, he missed the feeling of other people around him. A hug from a friend, a handshake, a kiss on the cheek. Every now and then in his daydreaming, he would meditate on thoughts of the law. Mosaic Law had made conditions for healed lepers that they could go to a priest with evidence of their healing and be accepted back into the community again, accepted into the synagogue, received among people. In his mind, he saw himself dressed, not in bandages but in regular clothing, brushing shoulders with those in the synagogue. If the Levitical code made space for must be possible, right? Possible. Possible. His healing was possible.
