THE PHYSICIAN WITH THE MAN WITH A WITHERED HAND

THE MAN WITH A WITHERED HAND

Matt. 12:9-14

Mark 3:1-6

Luke 6:6-11

        The account of the man with the withered hand is told by Matthew, Mark and Luke, and they all tell it in connection with another, that of a Sabbath day in the cornfields. Reading in Matthew and Mark it might appear that the two things happened on the same day. Luke, however, points out that the happenings in the cornfield took place on another Sabbath. The fact that the three evangelists have thus placed the two events in close connection reveals a connection of ideas, and we shall certainly approach the account of this man with a withered hand more intelligently if we realize this connection.

        In the cornfields we find our Lord rebuking the rulers for their ignorance of God. He used two illustrations to show how there were occasions when the Sabbath day seemed to be violated. The first was when David, entering into the house of God, ate of the shew-bread. The second is that of the constant habit of the priests in offering sacrifices on the Sabbath. His rebuke for the rulers was contained in these words: "But if ye had known what this meaneth, I desire mercy, and not sacrifice, ye would not have condemned the guiltless."

        With that in our mind we come to the account of the man with a withered hand. The rulers did not know God, and when men do not know God they are always interested in trivialities, such as the tithing of mint and rue and anise and cummin. (Matt. 23:23) When men know God, they know the passion of His heart is forever full of understanding and mercy. If David was hungry, he may eat of the shew-bread, and the priests are warranted in doing things on the Sabbath, for in neither case was its real sanctity violated.

        Each evangelist records the fact that it was in this connection of the rebuking of the rulers in the cornfields that our Lord also claimed Lordship of the Sabbath.

        In this account of the man with the withered hand He was revealing and illustrating the activity of God in mercy, of which the rulers were ignorant; and He was interpreting His Lordship of the Sabbath by what He did. Had they had minds and hearts capable of understanding, they would have come to a new appreciation of the Sabbath and its value.

        In this connection Mark tells us, what none other does, that His action in connection with this man was the outcome of His anger with the rulers. In passing it may be noted that in this Gospel more than in any other, we have a revelation of the capacity of our Lord for anger. Here He was angry, angry on behalf of the man, angry with the hardness of heart, and misunderstanding of the rulers, due to their ignorance of God.

        Now with that background we turn to the account itself, and here we have to recognize at once that it is the account of the Lord's dealing with a physical disability. The way in which this statement is made is interesting. Literally the statement should be rendered, "A man who had his hand withered," and the participial form of the verb shows that it was not congenital disease. It was either the result of an accident, or of contracted disease. It was undoubtedly a case of disability resulting from some breaking of law in some way, at some time. All that has its bearing on the account; but we recognize at once that there is no reference here to moral or spiritual values. These facts may suggest a difficulty in dealing with the subject in our present articles. Our utmost interest is in the work of our Lord as the Great Physician; and that work was always fundamentally and ultimately in the realm of the spirit. Nevertheless as we come to the account we should consider a truth which many years ago was spoken by Dr. Arthur T. Pierson, as he said, "Every parable of Jesus was a miracle of wisdom, and every miracle a parable of teaching."

        Remembering that, as we approach an account of that which lay wholly within the realm of the physical, we nevertheless remember that in our entire Lord's attitude He never divided between the physical and the spiritual. He never recognized our division of life into the secular and the sacred. All the things which we call secular became sacred when He touched them and dealt with them. Therefore, when He dealt with physical disability, He acted in conformity with the same laws, and observed the same principles which characterized His action when more directly and more evidently He was dealing with the moral and the spiritual. In this account then we may certainly say that spiritual law is illustrated in the natural world. As we watch Him, then, dealing with this disability, we shall see how He acts in the presence of spiritual necessity and moral depravity. In that way we may consider the account, applying as we go.

        Let me begin with a word of application. Let our consideration of the account make its appeal to any who may be conscious of some disability in the spiritual realm, or in the moral realm, conscious of some withered and atrophied powers.

        Following our usual method of first of all endeavoring to see the man, there are only a few things which reveal him. The first arresting fact is that he was found in the synagogue, which really was unusual. He would not have been allowed in that condition to enter the Temple and it was not easy to find a place in the worship of the synagogue. Nevertheless he was there. Possibly he had been a regular attendant, going quietly in from Sabbath to Sabbath, and therefore a worshipper, in spite of his disability. It is evident that he was known, or that he had been discovered by the rulers, and they would be familiar with the fact that he was suffering from a withered hand. Without understanding the reason of it, it is quite evident that his hand was withered and useless. He could not extend his fingers. They could grasp nothing. He could not put his hand to a plough. He could not take hold of the tools of a carpenter. I repeat, these religious rulers were evidently acquainted with the fact, for this is revealed in that when Jesus entered the synagogue, they immediately connected Him in their thought with that man. They were opposed to Him. They were hostile. They were seeking for an opportunity to bring a charge against Him in the moral or the ritualistic life; but though they were ignorant of God, they knew enough of Jesus to connect Him with that man. If we may reverently say so, they paid Him that unconscious compliment as He entered the synagogue. They did not expect Him to be concerned with those who occupied the chief seats in the synagogue. They did expect Him to have something to do with that crippled man.

        Two things, then, that we see in this man, are those of his disability, and of the fact that he sought the place of worship. We have no suggestion in the account that he was seeking healing.

        There is no account of any appeal he made himself to Christ. He was certainly conscious of his own disability, but in some measure he was conscious of God, and found his place among the worshippers.

        In dealing with this man our Lord spoke to him twice. His first word was a command, "Stand forth," or quite literally, "Arise, into the midst." Evidently the man was seated somewhere in the synagogue, and our Lord first of all called him to come into the place of observation. The second word was the personal, direct command, "Stretch forth thy hand."

        It is an arresting fact that our Lord in this case separated the man from the crowd, and brought him, with his disability, into view. The man immediately obeyed. Here as so often, we are halted by things which are not recorded in so many words. It is evident that there was something in the very tone and manner of Christ which produced that obedience. Most likely also there was lurking in the mind of the man when he heard the command of Jesus, a wondering hope that the great Teacher and Healer was about to do something for him. There may be some element of speculation in these statements, but the fact remains that our Lord brought him into a place of visibility in order that what was about to take place might be seen by all.

        Then came the quick, brief and definite command, "Stretch forth thy hand," which may be rendered quite literally, Extend your hand. The Greek word here is very full of suggestiveness, revealing the fact that our Lord called for an activity in the hand that was quite limp and helpless. At this point in the account we find ourselves face to face with the same underlying principles that occupied our attention when we were considering the account of our Lord's dealing with the man in Bethesda's porches. If we place ourselves in imagination in that synagogue, we shall the better understand the thing that happened. Let us imagine that we were among the number of those attending that synagogue, and that we know the man, that we have seen him often enough; that it may be at times we have felt a passing pang of pity, as we have realized the helplessness of his condition. Now on this Sabbath day we hear Jesus tell this man to stretch forth his hand. Inevitably our first reaction, as we listen, will be a consciousness of the man's inability to do what he is told. To stretch forth that hand had probably been the desire of years, and with equal probability, the attempt had been made unnumbered times, perhaps especially in the earlier years of his suffering. He had felt the life forces of his body, and earnestly wished that they would pass into those fingers, but it was an impossible thing and therefore simply on the level of human observation, we declare that because it was impossible, the command was unreasonable. Why should this man be brought out and placed in the midst of a watching company, and told to do what he is unable to do? The command appears to be a mocking of the man's impotence.

        Now necessarily this line of argument raises a sense of impatience among us. Nevertheless it is good to face the matter in that way. As we do so, still using our imagination, we turn from a contemplation of a withered hand, and look at the face of Jesus. The moment we do this, we know that the command is possible because He commands it, however impossible it may appear. To look into that face must inevitably have meant to be perfectly certain that He was not there to reveal disability, except as He was also there to put an end to it. If He thus commanded the disabled man to stand in the presence of the crowd, that the crowd might see him, it was in order that soon he might return, seen of the self-same crowd, with his disability completely cancelled.

        The thing so often insisted upon is once more evident here, and it is that behind the words of Jesus there is always the Person. Artists have attempted to portray Him, and as a rule have failed. But we know Him through sanctified and spiritual imagination well enough to be sure that when His eves rested upon that man, and He commanded him to stretch forth his hand, there was shining from those eyes the very mercy of God, of which the rulers were ignorant. The pity and the compassion of God were focused in the glance of the Son of man. While, therefore, we may be inclined to argue as to the impossibility and the unreasonableness of the command, we see the impossible become possible as the hand is stretched out.

        That being so, then evidently the command was not unreasonable. It was reasonable to tell him to do what the Lord was enabling him to do.

        If we lift all this, as we have the right to do, into the realm of the spiritual, we see once more the fact that Christ always brines men face to face with the impossible, and lays upon them a command that in their own strength, they cannot obey. But we see further the reasonableness of His command, because He is waiting to communicate the very power that is necessary for obedience.

        We listen to the Old Testament command: "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts"; (Isa. 55:7) and we say, we cannot obey. We listen to the words of the Lord, "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself," (Matt. 16:24) and we say, that is what we are utterly unable to do. That is where Christian experience always begins. If men are endeavoring to be Christians by cultivating certain pleasant ideas which are involved in the Christian message, they have not begun to know what Christianity really is. Christ forever compels us to face our own disability and that in the realm of the impossible, and commands us to begin there, in a moral action of power.

        If we are perfectly honest we shall find that our inability to forsake our way of wickedness, or to deny ourselves, consists in our halting at some one thing in the life which has gained evil mastery over us, some habit, and some propensity. If we are not Christian, the reason is to be found in ourselves; and as I have already said, almost invariably at some central point. I cannot stretch forth my hand, I say. He says, Stretch it forth. I cannot master this evil thing, I declare. He says, Master it. As long as I am looking at myself, His commands are impossible and unreasonable. But the moment I look at Him, I find they are both possible and reasonable.

        The sequel to the account is evidence of all I have said. The man stretched forth his hand, and the people in the synagogue saw him do so. They saw that hand, which had been limp and nerveless and useless, restored; until as one of the evangelists puts it graphically, it was "whole as the other." The wonder had been wrought.

        When we ask how this is to be accounted for, we realize first of all the man was conscious of need, and never more so undoubtedly than on that Sabbath day, when he stood facing the Christ. Then as he heard the command, there was a venture, a venture of trust, something in the Person of our Lord that called forth a response of obedience; and he immediately found that in that act he was enabled to do the thing that was impossible. As he in obedience made contact with the power of Christ that power became his enablement. It was not a case of waiting to obey until there was a consciousness of healing. It was obedience to a word of command, and it was in that action of the will that contact was made with power.

        It is readily seen how all this illustrates spiritual values. To receive the benefits that Christ is forever waiting to bestow, there must first be a consciousness of need: or to use at once the old theological phrase, a conviction of sin. It is when the soul is saying, perhaps not in words but in the inner consciousness, "I would do good, evil is present with me," (Rom. 7:19-20) that a man is coming into such relationship with Christ as will make possible His saving activity.

        Then there must be within the realm of the will, determination to obey the command, however impossible it may seem. It is by that action that the power of Christ is communicated, and the shattered powers, the weak, nerveless longings, the atrophied forces all become instinct with life and power. Paul's final word in experience was not, "When I would do good evil is present with me," but rather, "I can do all things in Him that strengtheneth me." (Phil. 4:13) The whole secret is that of disability making contact with ability, and thus ceasing forevermore to be disability. A homely illustration may be used, that namely of the electric cars that are operated by contact with an overhead wire. We look at the car standing perfectly still and in darkness. In that outstretched wire there is all the power that is needed to bring light and motion to that car. When finally we see the long arm move, making contact with the wire, we see the car at once lit and empowered for movement.

        Reverently we may say that in the Christ of God is all the power that is needed for the removal of moral and spiritual disability, and in the moment in which the will of man, in an act of obedient faith makes contact with Him, the results are assured.

        Thus in all our consideration of the account we have seen its application. The trouble with us has so often been that we hesitate and fail to obey at the word of command, the word which calls for complete abandonment and obedience, in spite of all the consciousness of weakness and disability. There is a hymn which was very often sung in days that are gone, and may sometime still be sung, containing words which are most revealing: "I can but perish if I go, I am resolved to try, For if I stay away, I know I must forever die."

        That may sound like a counsel of desperation, but it is the very desperation that is needed. It is when we face the impossible, and dare to say as in the presence of Christ, I cannot do this thing, but I will at Thy command, then in a moment the "cannot" - is cancelled, and the "can" becomes the mighty truth concerning life. "He stretched it forth, and it was restored whole as the other."

        I am now venturing to add something that is not found in the account, but is nevertheless implicated and true. Once more imaginatively I look at the man with the hand made whole. Supposing he had looked at his own hand and said, it is indeed wonderful. I have not felt the pulsing power in these fingers for many years. I can now stretch them forth. I can use this hand. I am able to grasp something. It is all so wonderful that I had better take care of this hand in a special way. In order to do it, supposing the man had called for bandages, and had carefully enswathed that hand. Then supposing he had carefully placed it in his bosom, in order to take care of it. What would have happened? The answer is inevitable. It would have withered again. The only way in which the strength of that restored hand could be maintained was by using it.

        Our Churches today are filled with men and women whose hands have been cured, and they are so carefully taking care of spiritual life that that life is withering. Let all such accept this added illustration, and learn that the new power which has been communicated to them has, as the secret of its maintenance, the activity of service.