ALICE KIM | CONTRIBUTOR

At the end of Mark chapter one (vv. 40-45), we are introduced to a man plagued with leprosy. He lived his life as a public service announcement warning people to keep their distance lest they become like him. His inescapable daily reminder of a scorned, forgotten, and marginalized existence would be humiliating and painful enough to make anyone cower. Nevertheless, as Jesus’ public ministry to the ill and demonically tormented was widespread, he found himself at a crossroad between deferring hope or desiring for something more (Pr. 13:12). He courageously chose the latter.

Notably, the narrative seems to slow down as the man approaches Jesus and kneels before him. It’s as if Mark leans in and personally invites readers to do likewise. A hope long buried was suddenly resurrected. Although awakening hope would be risky, to the point of vulnerability to greater ridicule, isolation, and judgment, the cost of doing nothing could potentially haunt him with unrelenting regrets filled with what-if’s.

His lowly posture embodies his desperate plea. It exudes the depth of anguish, indescribable affliction, and utter shame. His confession, “If you will, you can make me clean” carries the heaviness of helplessness and dependence.

Jesus Cares

Jesus responds. He is moved with “pity” (ESV) and “compassion” (NKJV). However, the NIV describes Jesus as being “indignant.” It doesn’t seem that Jesus is upset at the man or his gesture but more so, the pervasiveness of sin and its cruel impact.

Jesus does what is forbidden. He mirrors the man’s actions by drawing closer. He extends his hand and touches his diseased body that has been desolate of human warmth and connection. And in a moment, before Jesus’ words of assurance falls upon his ears and registers in his mind, the man felt Jesus’ deep sorrow and heartfelt empathy.

In C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew, a boy named Digory discovers a cure for his ill mother but is heartbroken when he learns that the same remedy for his mother’s ailment is needed to save Narnia from ruin. As he considers this grim dilemma he is torn as he pleads with Aslan the lion, the King of Narnia.

He looks down at Aslan’s powerful paws and says, “But please, please—won’t you—can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?” Lewis writes as Digory dares to look up, “What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears filled Aslan’s face, the King of Narnia. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.”

Similarly, whenever you are faced with doubt of Jesus’ heart, may the nearness of his presence convey loud and clear, he cares for you.

Jesus Wills

Mark intentionally uses the word “immediately” to point out the dramatic change in the man’s fate. Once, to be avoided, despised, begging for livelihood, now, he is restored, embraced, and valued as an image bearer.

His confidence that Jesus can make him clean is not merely theoretical or theological but rather his living hope and embodied faith. Jesus alone makes the unclean clean and the impossible possible. Based on firsthand experience, he could testify that Jesus restores dignity to the lowly and impoverished and, welcome to the unwanted and rejected.

But what if you are in the midst of prolonged waiting, exhaustion, loss, confusion, and feeling forgotten? Or you’re anticipating ways to cope by numbing the throbbing pangs of anxiety, loneliness, and dread of this upcoming holiday season? Maybe you’re wondering, “I know Jesus can but is he willing to act on my behalf? I know Jesus answers other’s pleas and petitions but when and how will he answer mine?”

Without minimizing your current circumstances, can you imagine yourself in the place of this man with leprosy? Perhaps this might sound like an absurd ask, especially when there is no guarantee that your situation will be resolved or reversed. And yet, the risk in trusting is not in vain. There is one who sees, knows, and is deeply moved: He will reveal himself to you. Furthermore, when you experience divine care in this way, something deep within you shifts. It changes your outlook and perspective but most of all, it changes you.

At the Garden of Gethsemane, even with the looming shadow of the cross, Jesus kneels and pleads, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mk. 14:36). He too confesses the Father’s sovereignty and authority and entrusts himself wholeheartedly. His intimate knowledge of the Father’s goodness as he nears the horror of Good Friday and the joy of Resurrection Sunday gives courage to dare to hope for tomorrow.

Prayer of Hope

Jesus, I come like this man with leprosy—broken, unclean, and desperate to know your touch that dissolves all doubt that you see me and know what I need even before I ask. As I muster, “Jesus you can” and risk to believe you will, my eyes well up with tears because I long to know your compassionate grace on my behalf.

You held nothing back but surrendered all so that I would be rescued, redeemed, and restored. Help me, even in the loudness of my angst to hear you.

On the cross, you have displayed powerfully and declared ultimately to meet our deepest needs, “I will; be clean.” Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

Photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash