Revolution: Turning People to Faith Through Compassion (Matt. 9:35-36)

We’re talking on Sunday morning’s about how to be salt and light. Scholar John Stott writes these challenging words:[1] Our Christian habit is to bewail the world’s deteriorating standards with an air of rather self-righteous dismay. We criticize its violence, dishonesty, immorality, disregard for human life, and materialistic greed. “The world is going down the drain,” we say with a shrug. But whose fault is it? Who is to blame? Let me put it like this. If the house is dark when nightfall comes, there is no sense in blaming the house; that is what happens when the sun goes down. The question to ask is “Where is the light?” Similarly, if the meat goes bad and becomes inedible, there is no sense in blaming the meat; that is what happens when bacteria are left alone to breed. The question to ask is “Where is the salt?” Just so, if society deteriorates and its standards decline until it becomes like a dark night or a stinking fish, there is no sense in blaming society; that is what happens when fallen men and women are left to themselves, and human selfishness is unchecked. The question to ask is “Where is the Church? Why are the salt and light of Jesus Christ not permeating and changing our society?” It is sheer hypocrisy on our part to raise our eyebrows, shrug our shoulders, or wring our hands. The Lord Jesus told us to be the world’s salt and light. If therefore darkness and rottenness abound, it is largely our fault and we must accept the blame.

These are hard words. As we’ve seen in Matt. 5 Jesus calls us the salt and light of the world. Jesus envisions us as agents of enlightenment and preservation. Then, as we’ve seen in Matt. 10, Jesus sends us out to be salt and light. In between those chapters he instructs us in and demonstrates for us the art of salt and light. The question is not really “Why is the world dark?” or “Why is the world decaying?” The real question is, “Where is the salt and light?” Where are we?

I think most of us want to be salt and light. We’re ready to stop bewailing the world and start being its salt and light. Fortunately, in Matt. 8-9 Jesus shows us how to do just that. We’ve been following Jesus in these two chapters as he demonstrates how to be salt and light.

Two Sundays ago we walked with Jesus as he challenged us with words about wineskins and the practice of contextualization. We learned that Jesus’ new way of being salt and light requires new expressions, forms, and practices. Being salt and light in today’s culture may not fit traditional forms. Last Sunday we followed Jesus as he came down from the mountainside and practiced closeness with a leper, a Gentile centurion, and a Jewish woman. We learned that In order to become salt and light, Jesus drew close to people far from God. This morning we explore a third practice of Jesus’.

This third practice relates to something very familiar to most of us. Throughout Matt. 8-9 there are references to Jesus’ preaching and to the power of his word:

· In Matt. 8:13 Jesus speaks and a paralyzed servant is healed.

· In Matt. 8:16 Jesus drives out spirits with a word…

· In Matt. 8:32, Jesus commands “Go!” and demons flee from two men.

· In Matt. 9:1-8 Jesus’ words bring healing and forgiveness.

· And in Matt. 9:35 Matthew writes this summary statement: Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom…

Thus, one thing Jesus demonstrates in this section is the practice of conversation. We learn that being salt and light involves telling good news. In fact, when Jesus sends us out in Matt. 10 he says, As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’” (Matt. 10:7 TNIV). One of the ways we act as salt and light is through conversation: telling the good news about Jesus.

I suppose that if we were to use an image to summarize this, it would be the image of a mouth. Take your fingers and touch your mouth. The mouth is an important image regarding our role as salt and light. Jesus’ mouth spoke words that brought transformation into the lives of people. We too, can speak words that turn darkness to light and decay to life.

But, for some of us, the mouth is the only image we have regarding salt and light. We think of outreach only as drawing close to irreligious people and then opening our mouths and telling them the good news. Regarding our role as salt and light, we often focus exclusively on the mouth, on telling good news. This is not only true for us Christians. It’s true for people of different faiths. For example how many of you have ever had members of a religious group come to your home and try to persuade you to join their faith? And how did they attempt to persuade you? They used their mouth. They talked about their faith. I remember two specific times in Memphis when members of a religious group visited our home and tried to persuade me to follow their faith. Both times the only thing they did was talk. People of faith tend to focus exclusively on the mouth, on telling good news. And there is good reason for this. Jesus used words. We must as well.

But focusing exclusively on the mouth, on telling good news often doesn’t work because of people’s distrust of religious people or religion in general. Frankly, I didn’t know or trust the guys that came up to my house to recruit me to their religion. They looked nice enough: clean cut hair, white button up shirts, shiny black shoes. But I didn’t know them. And I didn’t trust them. There’s no way I was going to join their faith just because of what they said.

And this experience is distrust is common today. America used to be a Christian and Modern culture in which the church had a prominent public position and a positive image in society. We are living, however, in an increasingly non-Christian and postmodern culture. In this new culture, the church has been marginalized and is viewed negatively.

For example, a colleague of mine recently did an online search for the word “church” to see what news headlines had been posted that day about church.[2] Here are some of the headlines he found: “Soldiers in Afghanistan Give Bibles, Told to ‘Hunt People for Jesus’”; “Two Catholic Priests Stole $8 Million From Church”; “Hate on Display: The Westboro Baptist Church Protests the White House”; “UK Flooding is God’s Judgment on Society.” The negative press about church went on and on. We live in a changing culture in which increasing numbers are distrustful of church and of Christianity. This means that people aren’t going to simply take us at our word. And that presents a challenge.

Thankfully, Jesus models another ancient practice that addresses this challenge. Let’s follow Jesus once more as he interacts with the people of Matt. 8-9. In Matt. 8:2-4 Jesus interacts with a leper: 2 A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” 3 Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cleansed of his leprosy. 4 Then Jesus said to him, “See that you don’t tell anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.” (Matt. 8:2-4 TNIV). As I mentioned last Sunday, skin diseases like leprosy brought physical and spiritual pollution. They were contagious and deadly. And they caused a person to be ritually unclean. Yet Jesus not only drew close to this leper. He healed the leper. Not only did Jesus heal the leper. By touching him, Jesus shared in the man’s uncleanness—he entered into the man’s suffering.[3] Then, Jesus told the leper to not broadcast the miracle. Jesus did not want anyone, including this man, to think that the healing was Jesus’ way of getting public attention. Jesus intended the healing as a simple act of compassion. [4] And finally, Jesus told the man to go to the priest. This would be the only way the man could be reintegrated into the community. Once the priest declared him clean, the man would be welcomed back. [5] Jesus not only wanted to restore the man’s health, he wanted to restore the man’s place in community.

Max Lucado helps us imagine the leper’s story:[6]

· One afternoon I plunged my hands into a basin of water intending to wash my face, and the water reddened. My finger was bleeding…I didn’t even know I was wounded. How did I cut myself?…Had I slid my hand across a sharp edge of metal? I must have, but I hadn’t felt anything. “It’s on your clothes, too,” my wife said softly…Before looking at her I looked down at the crimson spots on my robe. For the longest time I stood over the basin staring at my hand, and somehow I knew that my life was to be forever altered.

· “Shall I go with you to tell the priest?” she asks. “No,” I sighed. “I’ll go alone.”…Standing next to her was my daughter. Squatting, I gazed into her face and stroked her cheek with my good hand…I stood and looked again at my wife. She touched my shoulder, and I touched hers. It would be our final touch…

· The priest didn’t touch me. He looked at my hand, now wrapped in a rag. He looked at my face, now sadder than sorrow…He covered his mouth and extended his hand palm forward. “You are unclean,” he told me. With that one pronouncement I lost my family, my farm, my future, and my friends. My wife met me at the city gates with a sack of clothing, bread and some coins…By now friends had gathered. What I saw in their eyes was a precursor to what I’ve seen in every eye since—fearful pity. As I stepped out, they stepped back. The horror they felt as a result of my disease overtook their concern for my heart…

· Five years of leprosy left my hands gnarled. The tips of my fingers were missing, as were portions of an ear and my nose. At the sight of me fathers grabbed their children and mothers covered their eyes…

· I grew so tired of it all, sleeping in the colony, smelling the stench, so tired of the damnable bell I was required to wear on my neck to warn people of my presence…

· Several weeks ago I dared walk the road to my village…I only wanted to look upon my fields and gaze again upon my home and see perhaps the face of my wife…

· [Then I saw Jesus.]…I waited until he was just paces from me, and I stepped out. “Master, Master.” He stopped and looked in my direction, as did dozens of others…People’s arms flew in front of their faces. Children ducked behind their parents. “Unclean!” someone shouted. Again, I don’t blame them…I’d seen the panic a thousand times.

· His compassion, however, I had never seen before. Everyone stepped back except him. He stepped toward me-toward me!… “Lord, you can heal me if you will.” Had he healed me with a word I would have been thrilled…But he wasn’t satisfied with speaking to me. He drew near me. He touched me…

· Energy flooded my body like water through a furrowed field. In an instant, in a moment I felt warmth where there had been numbness. I felt strength where there had been atrophy…He cupped his hands on my cheeks and drew me so near I could feel the warmth of his breath…He smiled. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Go and show yourself to the priest….”

· So that is where I am going. I will show myself to my priest, and I will embrace him. I will show myself to my wife, and I will embrace her. I will pick up my daughter…and I will embrace her. I will never forget the one who dared to touch me. He could have healed me with a word, but he wanted to do more…He wanted to honor me, to validate me, to christen me. Imagine that. Unworthy of the touch of man, yet worthy of the touch of God.

And this is no isolated practice. Read these other encounters out loud with me:

· When Jesus came into Peter’s house, he saw Peter’s mother-in-law lying in bed with a fever. He touched her hand and the fever left her…(Matt. 8:14-15 TNIV)

· While he was saying this, a synagogue leader came and knelt before him and said, “My daughter has just died.”…After the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took the girl by the hand, and she got up… (Matt. 9:18,25 TNIV)

· As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him, calling out, “Have mercy on us, Son of David!”…Then he touched their eyes and said, “According to your faith let it be done to you”; and their sight was restored… (Matt. 9:27, 29-30 TNIV)

For Jesus, it was rarely enough to just say something. Jesus also wanted to do something. Jesus touched them. In every encounter in Matt. 8-9 Jesus becomes the good news the people so desperately need.

And just in case we miss the point, Matthew includes this description of Jesus in Matt. 9:35-36 35 Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matt. 9:35-36 TNIV). Matthew uses these words as a summary of Matt. 8-9. For Matthew, this is how Jesus demonstrated salt and light: by showing compassion.

Jesus shows us that being salt and light not only involves the mouth—telling good news, it involves the hand—being good news. What it takes is a hand willing to touch and enter into the hurts of irreligious people.

And in a postmodern and non-Christian culture where people are so distrustful of religion and religious people, that’s one thing that will get through. They may not listen to what you tell them. But they will remember what you do for them. The more we become good news, the more they’ll open up to hearing the good news.

Amy Bethea is a member of the Sunday School class I attend. She told our class that she had recently overheard a conversation between two people at Highland. In the conversation one shared with the other a struggle he was going through. Amy told us how surprised she was to hear that because from the outside it looked like everything was perfect with that individual. And Amy said to our class, “It reminded me that you just never know what struggle the people we pass by are going through.” Not only is that true here. It’s true for irreligious people where you live, work, and play. Someone in your workplace, classroom, or neighborhood is in the midst of tremendous difficulty. Everything looks OK on the outside. But on the inside, that irreligious person is like that leper. Jesus is calling you to become good news. He’s calling you to reach out your hand and touch them. When you leave here this morning, consider not only what your mouth might share with an irreligious person, but how your hand of mercy might bring hope and help to that same person.