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IT’S TIME TO GET OUT OF BED

I know you would never say it out loud. I know I would never say it out loud — certainly not in front of this radio microphone, and not even in the privacy of my bedroom at home with no one listening. But how often have we thought to ourselves, “I just really don’t think God is able to do anything about my particular problem”? In our hearts, where it really counts, we put a limit on what God can do. Yes, He can create worlds. Yes, He can make the sun shine and the rain fall. But He cannot take the anger out of our hearts. He cannot fix that slow-burning temper we were born with. He can’t help us beat that smoking habit or that addiction to pornography.

As some of you know, the Christian writer C. S. Lewis spent 12 years writing to a woman in America, someone he had never met and never did meet. And this anonymous person, “Mary,” struggled all the time with feelings of resentment against others. She held grudges. She imagined ways that she might get even with them. And as she approached the end of her days, at about the same time Jack Lewis was as well, her life was also filled with pain. So she had anger . . . and pain. Anger, GUILT, and pain. A frightening surgery loomed before her. And she must have wondered in one of her epistles if she could cope with these final shadows and hurts. Could God in heaven have a home for a cranky old lady like her?

And Jack Lewis, who was dying too, and whose wife, Joy, had passed away after a terrible battle with cancer three years earlier, writes this to her:

“Remember, though we struggle against things because we are afraid of them, it is often the other way round — we get afraid because we struggle. Are you struggling, resisting? Don’t you think Our Lord says to you ‘Peace, child, peace. Relax. Let go. Underneath are the everlasting arms. Let go, I will catch you. Do you trust Me so little’?”

Isn’t that beautiful? And this battle-weary man of God signs his letter: “Yours (and like you a tired traveler, near the journey’s end) Jack.”

We’re studying a fantastic New Testament miracle story, where Jesus heals a man who’s been crippled with paralysis. Yesterday we thought about the fact that it took some dedication and a spirit of unity for four strong men to pick up their beleaguered friend and haul him to go see Jesus. Today I want for us to also remember that it took a great amount of faith for this little band of bed carriers to make that trip through town and then up onto the rooftop.

In his book, Expect a Miracle, But Trust in Jesus, Pastor Adrian Rogers puts a nice spin on this very story. The original Greek tells us that our paralytic friend was lying on a krabbatos, which one scholar describes as “a poor man’s ‘couch’ or ‘bed.’ The rude pallet,” he writes, “on which the man lay was probably little more than a grass mat or a padded quilt.” As Rogers tells it, we’ve got four men at the four corners carrying that bed. But partway into the trip, the paralytic man moans in despair, “Let’s forget this. Turn around. It’ll never work. No way can Jesus heal me.”

And the guy carrying the first corner says to him, “Of course He can! Look at me. The grace and power of Jesus is amazing, because I once was blind, but now I see.”

“I know,” the sick man says, “but that was just your eyes. My whole body is out of whack.” Well, the four guys override his vote and they go a bit further, but then he hits the brakes again. “We’re wasting our time,” he sighs. “Go home. Just let me die.”

And the second man tries to perk him up. “Come on,” he says. “I used to have a withered arm. It was useless, man. And now look at it. I can carry you clear through Capernaum, uphill, both ways, and not break a sweat. Jesus did that.”

“True,” grumps the paralytic, “but that was just one arm. I’ve got two bad arms, two bad legs, two bad eyes, two bad everythings. My entire body is fritzed out. Why go on? Let’s quit.”

But they go another half a kilometer before the sighing and crying starts up again. “Turn around. Hang it up. Do a U-turn. Jesus can’t help me.” And now the third man takes a crack at it: “Don’t talk that way,” he scolds. “Look at me. I was stone deaf. I couldn’t hear a 747 taking off. But Jesus touched my ears and now I have 20-20 hearing.”

“No, no,” the sad little man says. “I don’t think Jesus did heal your ears, ‘cause you’re not hearing me. You just had two bad ears. I’m wiped out from head to toe. Even my hair hurts. There’s no way Jesus can make me well.”

And finally, the fourth man, who’s been listening to this dribble for just about long enough, drops the bed down in the dust of Capernaum and shouts at his friend: “HEY! Guess what, bud? My name is Lazarus, and I used to be DEAD! Trust me, Jesus can make you well! No problem! Now shut up and let’s get going!”

And Pastor Rogers, with a smile in his pen or word processor, summarizes with three words: “End of discussion!”

You know, friend, we need to keep this in mind at all times. Do you think that Jesus can’t take care of your problems? Don’t forget that He brought Lazarus out of the tomb. Do you have it in your mind that He simply cannot help you cope with the pressures at work, or the problems that your kid is facing in high school? Don’t lose sight of the fact that a man who had been in the grave for four days, who was decomposing, who had registered zero on the EKG machine for 96 hours, just came walking out of his own grave and said, “Hey, everybody, how’re you doing?” to the astonished crowd standing there. That’s what Jesus could do 2000 years ago, and that’s what He can do for you right now, today, on this Wednesday.

Pastor Rogers, just a few pages over — and by the way, this is a terrific book, Believe in Miracles, But Trust in Jesus — tells about a college student who went up to his pastor and asked him, “Do you think there is life on other planets?” Which is a good question we could debate for a while here, although the Bible doesn’t say. Anyway, this pastor said to him, “No, I really don’t.”

And the student was surprised. “Wow. You mean that out of all the billions of stars and planets and galaxies and milky ways in the vast universe, there’s no life anywhere except here?”

“That’s what I think,” the pastor replied.

And the kid shook his head. “Well, tell me, then, preacher, why did God go to all the trouble to make all of that?”

And the pastor said to him, “What trouble?”

Isn’t that great? And let me tell you: if you have a problem today, and you give it to the Lord Jesus Christ, He can answer that prayer and fix that problem in any way that He wants to. In any way that He knows is good. It’s no trouble. And you and I have to trust in the fact that those everlasting arms ARE underneath us, and that He really IS paying attention and doing the very best thing.

And so, what is faith? It’s two things. It’s believing that Jesus can do it, that He’s able. That He can heal. That He can forgive. That He’s the Son of God, qualified and empowered to do the things in all of God’s promises.

And then faith is a second thing. It’s to pick up the bed and go. Those four men had to have faith that they weren’t on a fool’s errand. Don’t forget that they didn’t just risk a half hour and a few drops of sweat carrying their friend. There were powerful enemies standing in the foyer of Peter’s house. The Pharisees and the scribes and the lawyers were there. and they already had hidden microphones. They were there to entrap Jesus Christ AND to entrap and persecute any man or woman LOYAL to Jesus Christ. Anybody who parked down the street with a Jesus fish on the bumper of their chariot could get cast out of the synagogue and their family blacklisted. So these men had to have faith in the power of Jesus, and then ACT on that faith. They had to pick up their friend and go.

Later in this story Jesus turns to the sick man himself. “Get out of that bed,” He says. “Pick it up. Go home.” And this man, who hadn’t moved a muscle in years, has to now have faith himself. Will he just keep on moaning and groaning and saying, “Jesus can’t”? Or will he have the faith to finally say, “Yes, Jesus CAN” . . . and get up out of that bed?

Friend, maybe it’s time for you and me to get out of our own beds of fear or disbelief or cowardice or faithlessness. Get out of the bed, right now, and take the first step toward Jesus.