A Wife Loved Like The Church

Instead I went for a run.

That might be shocking, being a Christian and not going to church on a Sunday morning. Especially Easter Sunday. The Sunday of all Sundays. But I didn’t go.

While I was running a car passed me. Before I even saw it I could hear it. The driver had blown their tire. You know that sound. Thump, thump, thump against pavement. As they passed I noticed they pulled into the neighborhood church lot. Perfect. If you’re going to have a flat tire, at least have it in a church parking lot.

As I got closer to the lot, I spotted the car and it’s driver. A girl in her early twenties. As she stood looking at the shredded tire it didn’t take me long to realize that she had no clue what to do. I keep running and watching. One couple walked by. Then another. And another. No one was stopping. Finally someone did. Then they left. As I was coming parallel to the car I thought “I need to stop and help her”. I ran down the small hill to the lot and asked if she needed some help. She responded “yes”. After a brief exchange, I got her spare out of the car and told her to go inside since the service was about to start.

Now imagine if you will – a sweaty (remember, I’d been running), tattooed woman in shabby clothes in a church parking lot changing a tire on Easter. What better image of a person in need? What better image of someone Christ died for?  But in the 20-some-odd minutes it took me to change the tire, not one person helped. In fact, several people walked right past without so much as a word or nod. At one point, I made eye contact with a young 30-something man who was looking for a parking space. As soon as we made eye contact he quickly drove off. And it hit me:

Church is more important than Christ.

As Christians we can put the focus on the wrong things. We put our focus on church attendance. We put our focus on not stepping on toes. We put our focus on skirting around the real issues.  We put our focus on seeing someone in need and justifying why we can’t help. “I can’t help because I’d get dirty. I can’t help because if they needed it they’d ask. I can’t help because then I’d be late. I can’t help because I’m not ‘called to that’.”

It’s very easy for me to judge these people. To think that I am better than them. But I’m not. How many times have I seen someone in need and not helped? How many times have I made an excuse?

In Luke 5, Jesus eats with a group of sinners at the home of Matthew (a tax collector). The Pharisees are appalled by this action. Jesus responses to them: “Healthy people don’t need a doctor – sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent.” (Luke 5:31-32, NLT)

By the time I finished changing the tire, I left praising God. I praised God for His forgiveness. I praised God for His grace. I praised God for His love and mercy. I praised God for taking a moment of my life and teaching me more about Himself. Easter is not about church. Easter is not about eggs or candy. Easter isn’t even about family and friends. Easter is about Christ. Easter is the pinnacle moment in our Christian faith. It is the moment that signifies our right standing and reconnection to God through Christ. Easter is when we realize – we’re sick and need a doctor and Christ is that doctor.

I confessed this truth to Jonathan the other night.

I grew up hearing about Jesus’ miracles, he’s teaches, he’s death for me. I love it, am overwhelmed by my sin and His grace. But, I usually never read through the Gospels. I tend to stick to Paul’s writing or Psalms. I went so far as to tell Jonathan I’ve thought of Paul’s writing as being “more meaty”.

I say all this because – God’s awesome. About a week ago, I decided I was going to start reading the Gospels. Why? Because I want to know Jesus, understand Jesus, His life, His works, His love for me. On the second day of my reading I thought “I’ve read this a hundred times before, it’s so boring.” Thankfully, I wasn’t struck by lightening. But in that moment, I realized my sin.

Mark 4:10-12 says: “When he (Jesus*) was alone, the Twelve and the others around him asked him about the parables. He told them, “The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables so that, ” ‘they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!’”

I’ve been seeing but not perceiving. I’ve been hearing but not understanding. In the still of the morning I repented. I confessed that I had placed my entertainment, my enjoyment, my personal fulfillment over God. I assumed that having read it before, having heard it a thousand times, God couldn’t possibly use it. I couldn’t be more wrong.

Mark 5 tells the story of a woman with a blood condition. Now, according to the Word, she had been bleeding (much like her monthly cycle) continuously for years. Jewish law would have declared her unclean, and therefore unable to be fully part of society. Jesus was visiting her village and crowds were surrounding Him. This woman knew, she knew, that if she merely touched His robe she would be healed. She did and she was.

I’ve read this story countless times. I’ve heard pastors speak about it, I’ve read other people’s thoughts on it. Nothing new could possible arise. Wrong. Even in the midst of my sin, my doubt, my pride, God called aloud to me. He pointed to me and said “Sarah, I love you. I love you.”

You see, the woman was unclean. And she touched Jesus – who is the only true Clean. This very act would have made Jesus ceremoniously unclean. But it didn’t it. It didn’t even upset Him. In fact, when the woman told Him that she had touched Him, He said “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.” (Mark 5:34). Daughter. Not unclean woman. Not sinner. He didn’t yell. He didn’t tell her to go away. No. He called her Daughter.

I am unclean. I am a sinner. But I’ve touched Jesus’ robe. I’ve been made well. I can go in peace. My suffering is over.