Lord-willing, we have Jesus in our church.  I think we do.  My aim, my desire, is that we are always putting Jesus Christ front and center in this church: his way, his love, his Word.  How about in our homes?  Make your home life a clinic for Christian discipleship.  If Jesus isn’t front and center in your home life, having him so here won’t be enough.

          Nearly a year now into our year of fear, we’re still a bit uncomfortable having company over—maybe we never were really enthusiastic about it.  We like to make things pleasant for ourselves; as for going to the effort of trying to make things pleasant for others, well, ugh. Perhaps we’re a little embarrassed or ill at ease having people over, inside our private,  personal space.  We never notice how run down the place looks, until we have company: so why would we want to have company?

          Jesus doesn’t come to criticize the furniture, the wall color, or that funky smell that’s gotten into the curtains.  Peter gives us the right example: he invites Jesus to spend the evening, even though his home seems crowded enough: wife, mother-in-law, brother Andrew, maybe some children, maybe Andrew has a wife.  Family crowds together like this all in one home when there is some poverty, hard times.  Peter’s home is poor, crowded, but that doesn’t deter him—his home life is generous, welcoming.  They have little yet give much: blessed!  Peter senses that there’s something about Jesus; he wants Jesus to stay, and he’s sure that Jesus won’t judge the domestic details.  Oh, and there’s sickness in his house, too.

          Beloved, there is sickness in every house, every heart: sorrow, guilt, hurt, loss of hope, pain, tiredness.  Life wears us out.  Have the last twelve months left you feeling energized?  When we have Jesus with us, wherever we are, we have a friend, an ally, a strong savior, who will always help.  When we bid farewell to Jesus as we walk out of the church or into the office, the work site, or the pasture, or the classroom, when we bid farewell to Jesus, we cut ourselves off from that help.  Our doctor holds out the medicine that will help, but we decline to take it, afraid of possible side effects.  We’re convinced, despite what the doctor says—and what does that doctor know, anyway?—that we don’t need his medicine, that we can heal ourselves, that we’ve done alright so far medicating ourselves with whatever was to hand.

          Our sickness can leave us incapacitated, just like Peter’s mother-in-law, laying there, unable to help herself or anyone else, helpless, a burden—oh, that dreaded burden!  Nobody wants to be a burden and everyone has one.  They tell Jesus about her; he goes to her, raises her, heals her—sounds like a strong recommendation to prayer, doesn’t it: praying for others, telling Jesus?  Healed, she at once begins to serve.  Women’s work, serving the men?  No!  Discipleship!  Each of you are a mobile clinic for discipleship.  Those who have been healed, those who are being healed, serve.  Those old Scottish pastors and biblical scholars whom I mention from time to time, W. Graham Scroggie and William Barclay, were taken with a brief motto: saved to serve.  Healing is for service.  Love looks like something.  Service takes many forms—the service to which God calls me won’t look exactly like the service to which He calls you.

          Earlier that day, Jesus had done a miraculous healing in the synagogue; now, he has just healed Peter’s mother-in-law, up and singing praises to God as she’s helping.  Soon, many people from all over are being brought to Jesus for healing.  Who are we bringing to Jesus for healing?  I’m praying about it.  Will you, too?

          Barclay reminds us that Jesus is “never too tired to help,”[1] never too far, never too weak to help.  Always close, always strong, always ready—just invite him in; honor this guest.  We may feel as if we aren’t much good at helping, serving, making a difference.  Oh, we may do some good, but not much.  “Jesus could, and can, produce results.”[2]  When you’re feeling ineffective, remember Jesus is effective and alive in you, at work in you.  He will also be at work through you, in his way, in his time: we trust in his effectiveness.  We rejoice in his effectiveness.  If we are effective in any way, to any degree, it’s because he is.     Jesus was never too tired to help, and Jesus got tired—never tired of helping, and he sought times and places to recharge: this reminds us of the full humanity of our Savior.  In what Mark tells us, we next see Jesus in the moments just before the new day, off by himself, praying.  Wonderful!  How holy!  How peaceful!  How powerful!  To contemplate Jesus praying feels almost like prayer, like we’d like prayer to feel.  He was seeking God, the presence, the love, strength, and peace of his Father in heaven.  Perhaps he was praying that his Father would let more people know him, receive him, believe in him, and so be healed, have salvation, and give glory to God.  Would that we would all pray that prayer with Jesus!

          Of all people, why would Jesus need to pray?  Why was he praying?  In his divinity he had no need to pray; in his humanity, he had every need to!  The Son was among us in the flesh, as one of us, relying fully upon his Father in heaven for daily grace, just as we do.  The difference is that his faith was perfect, while ours is still feeble, still growing.  As he prayed, Jesus knew he was in Communion with his Father, and this knowledge and love brought with it the comfort and strength, the assurance, that Jesus needed for the work of each day.  Jesus wanted to begin his day, to fill himself first, with that comfort, strength, and love.  We could do worse than to heed his example.

          Peter and Andrew seek him out—that’s good!  They seek him out to tell him it was time to go: the people were already lining up for the next round of works of power.  He’s recharged; alright, back to it!  Jesus has other plans.  Yet it is time to go: “Let us go [. . .] to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also.  That is why I have come” (1:38).  Jesus didn’t come to apply magic bandages to the wounds we’ve given ourselves or received.  Yes, he came to heal: by proclaiming salvation, the kingdom, the way back to God, God’s way in a wayward world.  People want out of the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.  As for fundamentally changing the habits, dispositions, behaviors, and choices that got them into their troubles . . . well, we talk about it, don’t we?  Jesus came to call people, to offer, and to make that fundamental change.  He was talking about it all the time.  Some listened; others couldn’t be bothered.  Some sought him out at great risk; others sought to be rid of him once and for all.

          Jesus healed.  Jesus came to proclaim.  We invite him in.  Here, at this table, we are his guests.  In this bread and this juice, Jesus reminds us that we are healed and fed in him.  Our bodies need food, our souls sustenance.  Here is true food, true drink, to satisfy our souls: we have healing love in his self-offering life.  By faith, what we taste and enjoy physically is what we have, spiritually.  This is a holy time, a holy meal; may God bless it to you, abundantly.  In the power and Spirit of our Lord, let us go and bless others, abundantly.

          Now, to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

               [1] William Barclay.  Gospel of Mark.  Daily Study Bible.  Philadelphia: Westminster P, 1976.  37.

               [2]  Barclay, 40.