Messages, Meditations, and Musings on the Life of Faith by Rev. Dr. Scott E. Olson, Interim Pastor, Christ Lutheran Church, Preston, MN

Thursday, March 13, 2014

"Brought to Life: The Paralytic" - Dramatic Monolgue for Midweek Lent

Brought to Life: The Paralytic
Midweek Lent 2014
Mankato Round Robin Series
*Adapted by Scott E. Olson from a monologue created by Steve Dornbusch

As you can see, I am able to walk, just like most of you, but it wasn’t always that way. Let me tell you an amazing story and why I carry around this cot to remind me.

One day when I was a young boy, I was playing with my friends and to get away from them I ran up the stairway to the roof of my house, something I had done countless times before. The stairway on the side of the house allowed us to do repairs to the roof, which was something people had to do pretty regularly. We could also sleep up there. That day, however, I slipped on the stairs and went tumbling down. In an instant, my whole life changed. My friends rushed over, some laughing, some concerned, like friends are when something like this happens. Of course, I immediately told them I was fine, but as I tried to get up a sharp pain shot through my body and I passed out.

When I woke up, I was inside my house and I realized that I couldn’t feel my legs. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t stand. I thought maybe, with the passage of time, I would regain the use of my legs, but I didn’t. For months, my parents took care of me. My friends would stop by. They felt terrible for what happened to me, and they felt so helpless to do anything. As the next years went by, the one good thing was this: my friends really were my friends. They never abandoned me, never forgot about me, never quit caring for me. Believe me, every day I thanked God that I had friends like that.

Usually, my father would take me out to the public square where I would beg for alms. It was humiliating, but it was the only way I could bring any money into the house. Often, at night, a couple of my friends would help me back to our home. I hated to have them have to do that. But what could I do?

Do you have any idea what it is like to sit day after day, knowing that nothing will ever change? Do you have any idea how absolutely depressing and demoralizing it is to lie in the public square on a three-by-six-foot mat day after day hoping that a few people would have pity on you and give you a few coins so some of your friends could use the money to buy you supper each night?

You learn a lot about people when you’re crippled. You learn who your friends really are. Oh, many people feign friendship. They look at you with pity in their eyes, maybe even drop a coin in your cup, but then they walk away. Most of them don’t even like to look. I’m not sure what they’re afraid of. Maybe it’s a fear that something like this could happen to them; I don’t know. Maybe they just don’t know what to say. Mostly, I think they’re just glad it’s not them, and the quicker they can get away the better they feel. Then they don’t have to think about it anymore.

One day, my friends told me about a new teacher and prophet in the area. They said they had actually heard him speak. Said he had a remarkable way of interpreting the scriptures. He seemed to have insights like no one they had ever heard. Well, I was no stranger to teachers and prophets. Begging like I did in the public square exposed me to all sorts of people. Anyone who thought they had something to say would often come to that public square and hold
court. Some were worth listening to, but most were just a lot of hot air. I suppose you could say I had grown fairly skeptical of that kind of thing.

Well, my friends continually talked about this Jesus they had been following. They were absolutely convinced that this carpenter from Nazareth was the Messiah who was to come. Now that was something! “Come on,” I asked them, “you don’t really believe that, do you? Do you think the Messiah is going to come as a carpenter from Nazareth?” Not that I had anything against Nazareth. It was a town not too far away. I’m not sure who I expected the Messiah to be, but it sure wasn’t a carpenter from Nazareth.

No matter how much I didn’t believe it could be true, that’s how much they did believe. Not only that, but they kept telling me about how they had seen this Jesus heal people, even people who had been blind or deaf since birth. They said, “If he can do that for them, maybe he could help you.” But I had been to doctors and had heard the same thing too many times: “Nothing can be done. You just have to learn to live with your condition.”

Still, my friends wouldn’t let up. They wouldn’t leave it alone. No matter how much I told them I didn’t need to get all excited about something that couldn’t happen they just wouldn’t quit. “You’ve just got to hear him. You’ve got to meet him,” they said. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, “maybe someday.” Well, that “some day” came about a month later. This Jesus they were all excited about was visiting a friend at his home in Capernaum.

People came from all over, including Jerusalem. My friends were absolutely insistent that we were going, and they picked up my cot and carried me. My cot was basically what you would call a stretcher. It had two poles and the equivalent of a couple of blankets that were sewn around the poles so two people could each take an end and carry me from place to place.

They took me to the house, but by the time we got there, you couldn’t even see the door. It was that crowded. The house was full and people were standing around the outside on their toes trying to see and hear. Well, so much for seeing Jesus, I thought. Not my friends. Before I knew it, they ran up the stairway to the roof and began removing some of the branches and leaves that made up the roof over the beams. Once they got some of the roof off, they came down and started to carry me up to the roof. I went crazy, reliving that day many years earlier when I had fallen.

They persisted in spite of my protests, tied ropes around the two poles of the stretcher, carried me to the roof, and lowered me right in front of Jesus. I was sure they were going to dump me right off the stretcher, but they didn’t. By now, as you can imagine, everyone was watching what we were doing. But it didn’t matter. Jesus spoke first. Later, when the story was written down, it said, “When Jesus saw their faith, he said ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” But, it wasn’t my faith he saw. I was the most skeptical of anyone. It was the faith of my friends, who were absolutely convinced Jesus could help.

Here’s where it got real interesting. As soon as Jesus said, “Your sins are forgiven,” people started getting real nervous. You could hear the whispers all over the room. “Who does he think he is? Only God can forgive sins. Is he claiming to be God?” Jesus smiled at the muttering crowd and said, “Which is easier, to say ‘Your sins are forgiven’ or to say ‘Get up and walk’? But that you might know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins—.” Then Jesus turned to look at me. He said, “Get up, take your mat, and go home.” Was he kidding? Did he really expect me to just stand up and walk out of there? I looked at him, and I knew that’s exactly what he thought.

It was when I started to prop myself up that I began to feel something in my legs. I hadn’t felt anything in my legs for years. I looked up at him, and I knew that he knew what I was feeling. I pushed myself up on my knees. You could hear the gasps of people all around. They had seen me every day. I reached up to Jesus. He took my hand, and helped me to my feet. I was standing. I was standing on legs that only seconds ago were lifeless. I moved from side to side, testing each leg to see if it was real. It was real, all right. I picked up my cot and walked out of that house without any help, carrying my cot, just like he said. I was totally speechless, but you should have heard my friends. They were laughing and slapping me on the back saying, “See, we told you. We knew he could do it!”

For the next several days, I couldn’t wait to get out of bed to be sure it was real and not a dream. It was no dream. It was absolutely real. I could walk, and in the days to come I could run and jump, too. I could do anything anyone else could do. I was completely healed, but something even more important happened. Jesus had said my sins were forgiven. Everyone else could only talk about the healing, but I knew something even bigger was happening. God was no longer a distant concept. Now, God was real, and that reality came through God’s Son, Jesus.

You know the story of Jesus, how he would go to a cross, die, and rise again that we might be forgiven. Well, you might say I had a preview of that forgiveness right there on the floor of that house. Yes, my life was changed, and walking was only a small part of that change. The bigger change came as God’s love was brought to life in me, a love that God promises to all of us through Jesus. You see, I come to realize that all of us are crippled in some way and need to be brought to life in some way. I hope my story helps you see how God brings life to you, too.

*This monologue was adapted from “The Paralytic” in Bible People: Monologues for Lent, by Steve Dornbusch (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2007).

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