July 10, 2016

July 10, 2016

July 10, 2016

“It’s a Miracle:  a man with a withered hand”


Mark 3:1-5



Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.


Want to earn millions of dollars a year?  Become a fashion model!  You could travel to exotic places, wear clothes from world-class designers and work with leading photographers.


But if that just isn’t you, you should know that there’s also a lucrative world of modeling that most people never even think about, despite the fact that we see it every day.  And that’s the world of hand modeling.


Did you know that a premiere hand model can make up to $1,000 a day for television commercials and up to $5,000 a day for photographs?  It might be a commercial for a dish soap, a bus-stop billboard for the newest cellphone; or the cover of a book.  If you think about it, you don’t see anything else of the model.  You only see their hands.


For example, you’ll probably never see Katrina Nelson’s face, but you probably have seen her hands countless times.  They’ve appeared in more than forty-five television commercials for Taco Bell, Charmin and Bounty.  Ashley Covington works for Walmart, Campbell’s Soup and Philadelphia Cream Cheese.  And Ellen Sirot works for American Express, Bloomingdales, Wendy’s and AT&T.  (At least her hands do!)


And the next time you see Keira Knightly or Charlize Theron in a movie and see their hands, they’re probably not their hands.  They’re probably Mia Crowe’s hands.  Movie directors like hers better.  Same goes for Megan Fox in a Motorola Super Bowl commercial.  The director didn’t really like her thumb, (it’s a little short and stubby), so he used Pamela Moses’ thumb instead.


Who would have thought that hands could be so important?


Hands are fascinating.  They can do almost anything from performing surgery to playing a musical instrument.  They can lift objects weighing hundreds of pounds or throw a ball hundreds of feet away.  They can deliver a violent blow or a gentle caress.  


And we use them in countless ways--for the earthiest of tasks like planting seeds or changing diapers or for the most sacred like receiving bread and wine.  


Think, for a moment, of your hands.  Do you know where all the freckles, scars and calluses are?  Which joints are swollen?  Which finger is no longer straight, but turns a different way?


And think of the countless hands you’ve touched across the years, of family and friends; or a child’s hands as you walked along the beach or crossed a street.


Where would we be without our hands?


Read any story of Jesus and you’ll hear of His hands.  The Bible says He often stretched out His hands and laid them on the sick to heal them and on children to bless them.  Or think of the words of Psalm 145, “The eyes of all look to You, and You give them their food in due season.  You open Your hand, and satisfy the desire of every living thing.”


Now here in the book of Mark, chapter 3, we hear about a man with a withered hand.  It was dried up, shriveled, useless.  Yet it was that hand that Jesus healed.


Please turn with me in your Bibles to page 1066 as I read the words of our text.  I’ll begin at Mark chapter 3, verse 1:  “Again He entered the synagogue, and a man was there with a withered hand.  And they watched Jesus, to see whether He would heal him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse Him.  And He said to the man with the withered hand, ‘Come here.’  And He said to them, ‘Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?”  But they were silent.  And He looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart, and said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’  He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.  The Pharisees went out and immediately held counsel with the Herodians against Him, how to destroy Him.”


Let’s stop there for just a moment to see what’s going on.  First of all, you should notice that Jesus is under attack.  Just as soon as He began His work and ministry among us, there were many who loved Him, but nearly as many who hated Him.  Turn back a page to Mark chapter 2 and you’ll see what I mean.


In Mark chapter 2, verse 6 it says, “Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, ‘Why does this Man speak like that?  He is blaspheming!  Who can forgive sins but God alone?’” 


Now skip down to chapter 2, verse 15.  It says:  “And as He reclined at table in his (Matthew’s) house, many tax collectors and sinners were reclining with Jesus and His disciples, for there were many who followed Him.  And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that He was eating with sinners and tax collectors, said to His disciples, ‘Why does He eat with tax collectors and sinners?’”


And look at chapter 2, verse 23:  “One Sabbath He was going through the grainfields, and as they made their way, His disciples began to pluck heads of grain.  And the Pharisees were saying to Him, ‘Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?’”


So it’s really no surprise that, as Jesus visits a synagogue in chapter 3, a group of men are there, ready, waiting and watching.


Look at chapter 3, verse 2:  “And they watched Jesus, to see whether He would heal him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse Him.”


How sad!  These men didn’t come to see Him, to hear Him or to believe in Him.  They came to watch and wait.  


Jesus came to commune.  They came to confront.  Jesus came to find fruit.  They came to find fault.  Jesus came to worship.  They came to watch and wait.


Could we stop again for just a moment?


Why are you here this morning?  I hope you’re here to study, to worship and to pray.  That is, after all, why Jesus went to the synagogue that day.


And while Jesus was at the synagogue that day, He met a man with a withered hand.  Dried up, weak, limp, useless.  It was attached to him, but it was no good to him.  It was a burden that held him up and slowed him down.  It was a heavy useless weight to drag around.


Though we can’t know for sure, church tradition says he was a stone mason.  But whoever he was and whatever he did, he most certainly couldn’t do it anymore.  You can’t work with a withered hand.  And neither were there any drugs to help alleviate his pain.  So day after day and night after night, he was little more than a poor, helpless man with a shriveled hand.  Until Jesus came along.


What happened next?  Look at verse 4:  “And He said to them, ‘Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?’  But they were silent.”


Funny, isn’t it?  It was a simple question, really.  You certainly didn’t even need a bachelor of theology to answer it.  Anyone with a fifth grade education could have easily answered it.  


Of course it was lawful to do good, to save life on the Sabbath.  But the Pharisees didn’t answer.  They refused to answer.


Why?  Because though the man had a shriveled hand, they had withered, shriveled hearts.


Then what?  It’s something we hardly ever see in Scripture.  Jesus became angry.  He got mad.  Look at verse 5:  “And He looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart.”


Do you know what really makes Jesus angry?  Not slow, incompetent people and not His blundering, often disappointing disciples.  He wasn’t even mad when His enemies tried to destroy Him, when they called Him a drunk, a Samaritan, a Sabbath breaker, a demon or a friend of tax collectors and sinners.  And when they led Him to Annas and Caiaphas and Herod and Pilate, He wasn’t angry in the least.  He prayed for those who persecuted Him.


But here, in the synagogue, we catch a glimpse of His wrath.


And not only was He angry, the Bible says He was grieved, deeply distressed.  He had laid before them one question for which there was only one answer, and they refused to give it.  And while He was so angry with their sin, He grieved at the hardness of their heart.


Still, with deep compassion, He turned to the man and said, “Stretch out your hand.”  And when he stretched it out, the Bible says it was restored, completely healed.


It was a miracle!


There’s a story told about a grandpa, some ninety years old, who sat feebly on a patio bench.  He didn’t move.  He just sat there with his head down, staring at his hands.


When his granddaughter sat down beside him, he didn’t acknowledge her.  And the longer she sat, the more she wondered if he was okay.


“Grandpa, are you okay?” she asked.


He raised his head, looked at her and smiled.  “Yes, I’m fine,” he answered.  And he said, “Thanks for asking,” in his clear, strong voice.


She went on.  “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting there, staring at your hands.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”


Then he looked at her and said, “Have you ever looked at your hands?  I mean really looked at your hands?”


She opened them slowly and stared down at them.  She turned them over, palms up, then palms down.  Then she said, “No, I guess I never really have looked at my hands.”


Then he smiled and said, “Stop and think for a moment about your hands, how they’ve served you all your years.  My hands are wrinkled, shriveled and weak, but they’ve been tools I used all my life.


“When I was a toddler, they braced and caught my fall.  They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.  As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.  They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.  They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.  They’ve been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.  They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.  They wrote letters home and shook when I buried my parents and walked my daughter down the aisle.  But they were strong when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off my best friend’s foot.  They’ve held children, consoled neighbors and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand.  They’ve covered my face, combed my hair and washed my feet.  They’ve been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.


“And to this day, these hands still hold me up, lay me down and fold in prayer.


“But most importantly, it will be these hands that God will reach out and hold when He comes to take me home.”


The One who once healed a man with a shriveled hand is here today.  And with His strong, nail-pierced hands, He reaches out and invites us to come and stand with Him at His Father’s right hand.


In the words of a hymn:  “Lord, take my hand and lead me upon life’s way; direct, protect and feed me from day to day.  Without Your grace and favor I go astray; so take my hand, O Savior, and lead the way.”



 


We thank You, dear Jesus, for this great miracle You once performed on a man’s withered hand.  So work the same miracle in our weak, sinful, withered hearts, that we may give You all honor and praise.  This we ask in Your name.  Amen