God’s Method
How would you describe the year
2021 in one word? Perhaps words such as “alienation,” “separation,”
“isolation,” and “loneliness” might come to your mind. During this pandemic many
churches and Christian organizations are constantly on a stretch to devise new
methods, new plans, new task forces, to overcome loneliness and make the gospel
relevant. But God’s method is always the person much more than anything
else. E. M. Bounds rightly said, “The Church is looking for better methods; God
is looking for better men.”[1]
“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John” (John 1:6). It
was the person John who broke the silence of the 450-year intertestamental
period and prepared the way of the Lord.
“Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa 9:6). As Israel was going through the darkest hour, God promised that he would bring his salvation through the person – the Christ Child. Psalm 2 also proclaims the same eternal truth. When the nations, the kings, the rulers conspire and plot against God, saying, “Let us break their chains and throw off their fetters.” But the One enthroned in heaven laughs and says to his anointed, “I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill. You are my Son; today I have begotten you” (vv. 6-7). In turbulent times the world’s salvation comes out of the Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
Jesus, God’s Wounded Healer
So we are eagerly waiting for the coming
of the Messiah. We are anxiously waiting for the Day when he will give justice
to his people and make it right. Our image of the Messiah is often more like a
charismatic king, or an invincible general. But in today’s scripture, God’s
Messiah is described as a totally unexpected figure, and he saves his people in
an unexpected way. So what was the Messiah like? The Bible says, “He was
despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering (sorrows), and familiar
with pain” (v. 3). Then, how did he
bring salvation to his people? “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was
crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed” (v. 5). By taking up our pain and carrying our
suffering. That’s how God’s Messiah brings salvation to his people.
When John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” Then Jesus, who had no sin, received the baptism of repentance by John. Gordon MacDonald invites us to imagine the scene of Jesus’ baptism if it took place in the twenty-first century. Gordon was a well-known, promising, beloved pastor at Grace Chapel in Lexington, MA for 12 years. In 1987 he admitted to an adulterous affair. He publicly repented. He experienced forgiveness of sin in a very personal way. In that context Gordon asks us to imagine John’s baptism occurs in our lifetimes, so we go out to be baptized by John. Imagine someone decided to get organized, so they set up a registration table, handing out nametags for each person who wants to be baptized by John. When a person registered for baptism, the person working the registration would ask, "What’s your name? And what sins do you need to repent of?" You’d say, "My name is Gordon and I’m an adulterer." So each person to be baptized would have a nametag with their name and their sin written on it. My nametag would say, "Victor" and then underneath would be words like “hypocrisy,” "pride," and "judgmental spirit." Then comes Jesus who doesn’t need a nametag, and he asks each of us to take off our nametags. As Jesus prepares for his baptism, he puts all our nametags on himself, mine and yours, my name and your name, my sins and your sins. And then Jesus goes into the waters of baptism, identifying himself with our sins. That’s why Jesus was baptized by John. Jesus became our sin, and we became his righteousness (2 Co 5:21).
What would you have on your nametag? Perhaps your nametag would have “unforgiving spirit” or "premarital sex" or “adultery” or “guilt of abortion” or “scars from divorce.” Whatever we have on our nametags, Jesus takes off ours and gives us a new nametag, on which is written, “God’s Beloved” (cf. Matt 3:17). All we need to do is to confess our sins and to trust in the Lamb of God who takes away our guilt and shame, sin and sadness. By his wounds we are healed.
Although God takes away our sin, he
leaves us with scars – healed wounds – as a constant reminder of God’s
grace, and as a source of healing for others. We are then called to be wounded
healers. There is a world of difference between “open” wounds and “healed”
wounds. Open wounds say, “Don’t worry because I suffer from the same
depression, confusion, and anxiety as you do.” But it is of no help to anyone.
Open wounds stink and do not heal. But healed wounds say, “I have been there.
And I still see my pain and suffering from deep within today. But God has been
gracious to me. I feel your pain.” Recently, Joyce has suffered from impotence
in her estranged relationship with someone she loved. She tried to mend the
relationship. But it was no use. She felt powerless, hopeless, depressed. Then,
one day in an unexpected time and place Joyce had a chance to meet one Christian
woman who shared her story. How Jesus healed her, how he lifted her out of the
pit of despair, pulled her from deep, messy mud, how he stood her up on a solid
ground. As Joyce was listening, she wept and wept. All of sudden, she began to
see a ray of hope that says “With God all things are possible.” When we share
our healed wounds with others, they become a source of healing.
But, when we share our wounds with others, it has to be done out of humility. It has to be beggar to beggar, patient to patient. In order to cultivate humility, we need to have a constant willingness to face our own pain and brokenness. Let me give you an illustration from one of the Talmud stories. Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi came upon Elijah the prophet while he was standing at the entrance of Rabbi Simeron ben Yohai’s cave … He asked Elijah, “When will the Messiah come?” Elijah replied, “Go and ask him yourself.” “Where is he?” “Sitting at the gates of the city.” “How shall I know him?” “He is sitting among the poor covered with wounds. The others unbind all their wounds at the same time and then bind them up again. But he unbinds one at a time and binds it up again, saying to himself, ‘Perhaps I shall be needed: if so I must always be ready so as not to delay for a moment.’[2]
In this story the Messiah, the Wounded Healer, is sitting among the poor, binding his wounds one at a time, so he can look after his own pain and suffering, and at the same time, he can be prepared to heal the wounds of others, while the others are preoccupied with their own wounds and problems. We too are called to be wounded healers. If we don’t see and bind our own wounds, those untreated wounds will stink. If we only see our wounds, we will burden others with our pain. But when we bind our wounds one at a time, we will see our own brokenness and stay humble, and with humility we will make room for others to be themselves and to come to us on their own terms.
Life as a Wounded Healer
We cannot save anyone. We cannot
heal anyone. Our life, as a wounded healer, is simply to invite people to the
Light where their wounds can be seen and healed. It’s to guide wounded
people to the Healer, as we humbly share our pain, our brokenness, our
hope with them.
In his book The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen says that the message of the wounded healer is here and now: “The master [the Liberator] is coming – not tomorrow, but today, not next year, but this year, not after all our misery is passed, but in the middle of it, not in another place but right here where we are standing.” [3]
Whatever you are going through, wherever you are, today is the day of liberation. The Messiah is coming. The Wounded Healer is coming. Come, let us adore him. Come, let us be healed and help others heal. Amen.
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