A Sermon on Mark 1:40-45

Preached February 16, 2003

First Christian Church, Corpus Christi, Texas

By Donald M. Tuttle

 

What if we could see the future?

That has been the premise of more than a few books, TV episodes and maybe even a few movies through the year. And it keeps coming back because it is such an interesting premise.

One of the latest incarnations of this idea is a TV show called "The Dead Zone." It is the story of Johnny Smith. Six years ago, Smith was a science teacher in a quiet town in Maine. But then he was nearly killed in a horrible car wreck. For six years, Johnny Smith languished in a coma while his position at the high school was filled, the love of his life married someone else and his beloved but grieving mother committed suicide.

Yet of all that happened to Johnny the most extraordinary thing was the fact that the accident awakened a normally dormant part of the brain, a part called the Dead Zone. Now, when he touches someone he has vivid visions of their past and, more importantly, their future. He can see what will happen to them. He sees their future—and can act to change it.

Whether being able to see the future is a blessing or a curse could be debated. But I suspect that many of us would like to find out. What if we could have seen the future when we took that first drink, went off to college, said, "I do;" or chose that particular route home on that particular day? What if we could see how the decisions we make today affect tomorrow--would we act differently? Would we make different decisions so that we could control the future? Certainly it is interesting to wonder.

 

It is also interesting to wonder what others would do. In reflecting on the encounter between the leper and Jesus, William Willimon wondered how it might have been different if they could have seen the future.

For example, if the leper could have seen the way the crowds would crush in on Jesus, the way they would force him to flee into the wilderness, would he have told people who healed him or would he have kept his mouth shut, as Jesus commanded? Or if he would have known that his not going to the priests angered them because the Law of Moses wasn’t followed, that they would blame Jesus, that his healing would figuratively be the first nail in Jesus’ cross, would he have gone to the Temple as he was told? If he could have seen the future, would he have acted differently?

Or what about Jesus? Willimon wondered if Jesus would have said no to cleansing the leper if he would have known that the man wasn’t going to do what he was told? Would he have done something different if he had known the man was going to talk openly about Jesus, send crowds to him, anger the Temple leaders? Would Jesus have done something different, say cleansed the man of leprosy but made him mute in the process, if he could have seen the future?

Of course, it is fun to speculate. It is fun to wonder how we would control the future if we could. But the fact is, we can’t see the future. We can’t control the outcomes of today’s decisions. We have to live with the uncertainty that comes from not knowing. Yet both the leper and Jesus show us how to do that. The recipe is simple. It is "trust in the compassion of God."

That is what the leper did.

Did you notice that he didn’t really ask Jesus to heal him? Instead he came up to Jesus, fell on his knees and said, "If you choose, you can make me clean." It is not a request as much as it is a declaration. He simply states that Jesus can, if Jesus chooses, heal him, make him whole, restore his life. He doesn’t try to argue his case or outline his worthiness. He doesn’t try to impress Jesus with desire or faith. He simply places himself before Jesus, trusting that if Jesus wants to, if Jesus desires, if it is the will of the Son of God, then it will be done.

The leper trusted in Christ’s compassion to do for him what was best in God’s eyes.

Jesus certainly had to appreciate that.

It would be near the end of his ministry when Jesus would do the same. He and his disciples had met in the Upper Room to share one last meal together. And after supper they sang a hymn and went into the Garden—the Garden of Gethsemane—to pray. While his disciples waited, watched and eventually slept, Jesus prayed. "Father, for you all things are possible. And if you choose, you can take this cup from me, you can save me from the cross. But not what I want, God, but what you want."

The leper wanted to be cleansed. Jesus wanted to live. But both trusted in God’s compassion, both trusted in God to do with them and for them that which was best according to God’s own purpose.

And they taught Christ’s followers to do the same.

In his book The Rebirth of Orthodoxy, theologian Thomas Oden offers one of the strongest arguments ever for the truth of the Christian faith. It is not an argument based on abstract philosophical categories. It is not an attempt to scientifically validate the incarnation or the resurrection. Instead, he provides an argument from martyrdom. He reminds us that for centuries Christians who had nothing to gain by their death were killed in the arena or on the stake. It was all because they trusted the compassion of God. They believed that if God chose God could free them, but that freed or not, they would trust the God made known in Jesus Christ with their future.

I think it safe to say that the future is unclear.

But what we do know, that of which we can be sure, is the God in whom we trust. We live with the confidence that no matter what the future brings, no matter what happens tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, the future belongs to a compassionate God, a God who has made his love, grace and strength known time and time again to his people, a God we can trust for tomorrow. Amen.