Mark 5:21-43
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-
Declaration of Dependence
By Leslie Kennard
We’ve
been praying these past weeks for my close friend, Mary Ellen, who had a
horrible horseback riding accident. When
I first visited her in the hospital, she was in so much pain that even with her
morphine she was afraid to move or even breathe. I’m talking here about our own Mary Ellen!
Who bungee jumps and who scuba dives (who scuba dives in underwater
caves). A middle school teacher! Mary
Ellen - who looks death in the face and LAUGHS!
Mary Ellen has in many ways seemed bigger than life itself, and to see
her so frail and broken shook me to the core.
I
wanted to wave a magic wand and fix all her broken parts and make her better,
to turn her back into herself again, Mary Ellen the Intrepid. But all I could do was sit with her, and
pray. The Prayers I offered didn’t seem
like anything at all during those hours.
But prayer was all I had to give her.
Meanwhile,
at home I was still trying to make the annual transition from
Normally
I’m calm in a crisis, but that day I fell apart. I cried and cried. I haven’t cried that hard
in 30 years. When I finally stopped, I
retreated to the bedroom, picked up my Bible, and without thinking, turned to
the scripture passages for today. I read
in Samuel that David has just learned his best friend has been killed--that
scripture was a little close to home–and I read the poignant elegy he
wrote. David’s own grief swallowed me
like a tidal wave, and I groaned in complete desperation, “Jesus, Help me!”
And
immediately I felt calm and strong and was able to focus on what I
needed to do next. I am always amazed
when this happens. Not amazed that Jesus
helps me. Amazed that I have to crash
and burn and go splat before I ask for help from the Risen Christ. I had been praying for Mary Ellen and for
Bill and for a whole list of people who are hurting. But I’m from
If you are self-sufficient and independent
like I am, the passage from Mark has something to say to us. Have you ever noticed in the New Testament
that when people are really hurting, when they are in huge pain, when
fear paralyzes them, they abandon their pride and self respect, they abandon
their rational efforts at independence, and for just one moment
they throw their fortunes with the man from
The
crowd became more restless, each person urgent with his or her own need,
pressing and pushing toward Jesus. And
among them is a woman who has been sick for years with a hemorrhage. She’s been
to Yale and UConn and Brigham and Women’s and Mass General and the Cleveland
Clinics. She’s been tested and examined
and talked to and talked about. She’s
had pills and patches and x-rays and surgery and chemo and homeopathy and
chiropractic. You name it, she’s had
it–poked and prodded and poisoned–and then she heard about Jesus. She had just
planned to come and see him. She’s
unclean and if she touches him she’ll make him unclean. But suddenly she’s overcome, and in her
desperation she reaches out for him. She elbows her way through the crowd,
grunting and pushing, but, weak and trembling from her loss of blood, from the
heat and the crowd, she becomes lightheaded and starts to faint. She knows she’ll never get to him. As she
sinks to the ground, she makes one last effort to reach him and her fingertips
snag the hem of his robe. And that’s all
it took. She was healed. Jesus turned and said, “Daughter, your faith
has healed you.” And shortly afterward, Jesus turned to the leader of the
synagogue and said, “Don’t be afraid: just believe,” (Mk.5:36) and we read a
few verses later that his daughter was healed.
There
are many, many stories like these throughout the New Testament. The events that we call miracles sometimes
happen to people who are normally strong, intelligent, sensible people like the
leader of the temple; sometimes they happen to poor people who can’t seem to
get anywhere but down like the woman with the hemorrhage. Sometimes miracles
happen to people who have lost their way, sometimes miracles to caring people;
sometimes to people who couldn’t care less.
Sometimes to rich people, sometimes to people whose lives are filled
with faith and sometimes to people who would LIKE to be faithful but who
haven’t been able to make the time for regular prayer and study. But one thing these people all have in common
is that for one desperate moment, they cry out passionately with all of their
being to God. This is a fleeting, now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t extreme
moment of faith during which those who cry out are totally dependent–totally
dependent--upon Jesus. For one fleeting moment they believe absolutely and
totally in Jesus. Their faith is not a
studied, rational faith: their faith is sudden and for that one moment, faith
in Jesus is all they know. Their plea
communicates that they believe with every ounce of being. In short, people who are normally more or
less independent, become–for just one moment–totally and completely dependent
upon the ONLY One whose help really makes a difference.
So
I stand here this morning, telling you about moments of dependence as we all
get ready to celebrate the Independence of our nation, not because I’m
contrary, but because as I stand here this morning, I myself am already back to
acting as if I can function independently.
Whatever you need done, if I can’t do it myself, I can find someone who
can do it. And whatever is going on in
my life, I can handle it. Thanks. I’m rational, thoughtful, and while I’m not
quick of wit, you can generally count on me in a pinch. Sometimes I think I’m
faithful and I’m not; and sometimes I’m unthinkingly faithful. Meanwhile, Bill’s heart converted to a normal
rhythm on Thursday and he’s enjoying a visit from his daughter this
morning. Mary Ellen, who had vowed from
her hospital bed to buy a body protector to wear in the future when she rides
her horse, lay on her couch last week and told the visiting nurse and the
physical therapist very firmly that she has no intention of wearing a
body protector when she gallops her horse through the rocky New England woods,
probably within a month or so. The
leader of the temple is back at work and his daughter is enjoying her summer vacation.
The woman with the hemorrhage is in a rocking chair on her porch reading to the
grandchildren she thought she’d never live to see.
These
moments of total dependence are so quick that one might think they had never
occurred, or that maybe they occurred but that they haven’t made any difference
at all. But those of us who have been
stopped in our tracks by our need--and by Jesus’ help–know that it is our dependence,
and not our independence that makes all the difference in our lives, and
in our church, and in our world.
Before
we leave worship to begin preparing our picnics and barbecues for Tuesday’s
celebration of our independence as a nation, let’s take a moment to gather at
the table where we once again, with great joy and celebration, declare our dependence
upon the Risen Christ with a simple meal of bread and juice. If I had to choose
between the barbecue and the morsel of bread and thimble of juice, I would
choose the bread and juice, because here I receive bread that fills me in a way
that even the very best potato salad never will, and juice that enlivens my
faith in a way that neither Coke nor Pepsi can claim. Will you join me at the feast of life?