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The Paralytic

Looking back, I should have been more aware at the honor it was of having seen Jesus at all, let alone the words that He spoke. It was an incredible day.

I was just outside, just on the right edge of a window. I could practically smell the person next to me, and them – me, but we didn’t care. I had heard incredible things about this man and the uproar that followed the crowd had people running.

Moments earlier, in fact, I was at the market – haggling for some dates. Some olives for home. But when someone said something about Jesus, I dismissed it as a misheard yearning. He and the rumors were running wild in my mind. But then I heard someone else repeat that same name and there was a small stampede of people starting to march away from the market and towards the informant.

I apologized to the merchant I was talking to for having to leave so quickly, and followed anxiously. I was one of the latter people to arrive, but I was interested and intrigued all the same to see if Jesus was here. Myself and a few others started gathering at the window of a moderately sized hut. He was speaking wisdom I had never heard before. His words were both powerful, but gentle. Unflinching in their purpose and meaning, but still kind and loving. His eyes searched as he spoke; and met every. Single. Eye. In the place. I wondered if his gaze would wander towards the window me and two others were at. And then it did. When his gaze met mine, I had to catch my breath. I was paralyzed for a few seconds as he continued to smile and speak his words. As his eyes held mine for a brief second or two, I felt something immediately as if he knew me. Even as he broke off our contact and looked to look at others, I felt different.

It was minutes later when the sounds of others arriving (albeit a little too late for a good place to see and hear) would disperse some of his words, but when they finally stood completely still and the dust seemed to fall, and the sounds of His words started to creep back into our ears.

But then, all of a sudden, one of the sounds of people arriving were starting to get louder and louder. Or at least loud enough that I noticed. I tried to ignore the four pairs of footsteps scuffling when I was jostled towards the window. I thought someone had pushed me but when I looked back I saw someone had pushed them, first, as we were both looking backwards towards 4 men who were frantically trying to lift a fifth over their heads and up some stairs. I was both annoyed and impressed. And then suddenly I pitied them: for the roof would not offer any better sight or sound for them.

I tried to ignore the entire interruption as their footsteps were barely heard on the roof.

And then dust started to fall from the ceiling. And then sounds of scratching started to fill the area to the point where (though Jesus had only glanced briefly at the dust falling and tried to ignore the commotion and keep speaking – perhaps he dismissed it as people just trying to settle above him) but then the distraction was just too much to ignore. He finally stopped speaking altogether.

A hole ripped open from the ceiling. The light poured into the room and a ray of light hit the ground, next to Jesus. Some started to quietly scoff and complain when Jesus somehow quieted them by a simple glance, only to immediately look right back at the shadowy silhouettes that were slowly lowering something. Or someone into the room.

When my eyes adjusted I saw that the mat lowered had the fifth man. The same paralytic from earlier. His friends had gone up, dug a hole and slowly lowered him by some crudely made line of rope and twine.

Jesus, uninterrupted, continued to look at the men through the roof. He smiled. Then he finally looked down at the man last and smiled an even bigger smile.

“Son, your sins are forgiven.”

The paralytic man, rocked back and forth for a minute, but then stopped rocking, looked up in awe and surprised. Jesus repeated himself, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

Some scribes went upstairs to the window and jostled us out of the way. They were shaking with fear. There was a desperation in their eyes. In this moment. They yelled at him with words I cannot recall, but I remember thinking that they could be right to be angry. For it was a Sabbath and Jesus was doing work that most would object to.

Jesus was both reserved, but firm in his words where he said it would be easier to say someone was forgiven than to have someone like this paralytic walk.

Some chuckled. Some sneered.

Jesus did not remove his gaze from the people who were now in front of me at the window.

There were only a few seconds of silence, but it seemed to drag on for minutes as Jesus continued and continued to hold his gaze at the scribes.

He finally broke his sight of the men, turned to the paralytic and said, “I say to you. Stand up, take your mat. Go home.”

And the man did. A deafening silence held the room as he slowly got up to his feet, picked up his mat, and walked from the room.

On that day I wondered why he did not thank Jesus, but now I know it was to get started on his new life, he would thank Jesus for the rest of it.

People started clapping, cheering, as the man slowly accelerated out and into the open. Crowds parted not unlike Moses at the Red Sea. He was immediately joined by his four friends, who were clapping and hugging one by one. An excitement that was in the room where Jesus stood had been uncorked.

I will never be the same because of what happened that day.

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