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On This Easter Day.

31 March 2013

“Jesus can’t fix everything.”

That’s what she said to me when I told her I would be praying for her. I started to say that yes he can and yes he has and she told me she didn’t want to hear it.

This weekend has been filled with moments like this. It has been filled with people who so desperately need the healing for which Jesus has already paid… yet they have no faith. They of little faith. Us of little faith. Somewhere in our self-sufficiency we have decided that we don’t need God. We have decided that we can “fix” our own problems with our own “wisdom.”

Yet, two thousand and a dozen years ago, give or take, the Son of God who took on human form so He could show us He understood, died on a cross for a crime He did not commit. He died by form of brutal torture for crimes we have committed. For crimes we commit.

Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.

Isaiah 53:4-5

And we have the nerve to say “Jesus can’t fix everything.”

I have seen things that people say should stay in the Bible happen today. I have seen people instantly healed for incurable diseases and injuries. I’ve been healed from incurable diseases and injuries. 

When I was in college, I was given a gift from my family line. Crohn’s Disease. It gnawed away at my body until I lost more weight than I had to give. A gift from my mother, though, unintentional. I had to read all the ingredients on boxes, in meals. If I didn’t, well. I regretted it deeply. Months into this unfortunate adventure, I was crying out to God: “Why have You allowed me this? You called me to be a missionary. I can’t refuse food offered to me because I can’t eat it!” And He said to me, “How will you know if I’ve healed you if you don’t eat the foods that had previously made you sick?”

That was three years ago.

When I was a young grasshopper, knee high to my mother, I made the mistake of trying to go down stairs too complicated for my still growing legs and I fell. Ankle in railing, I fell. They heard the snap, crackle, pop. I remember the ride to the hospital. My kneecap scattered, my leg, broken in three places from ankle to hip, healed over time. And grew over time until I was one inch too tall on one side too few. It hurt. To run, to walk. To anything, really, if I did it too long. Two decades later, they gathered around me, one of them held my foot in his hand and he told my leg to be the same length as the other, in the name of Jesus. We watched in amazement as my leg got shorter. We watched and I felt a pop in my hip and in my back. My hip hasn’t hurt since that night the four of us prayed together.

That was last fall.

I am amazed that Jesus cares enough about me to allow me bacon cheeseburgers and pizza and to walk and not grow weary and run and not grow faint (Isaiah 40:31).

Who are we to say Jesus cannot fix everything. Where were we when the earth was made? Do we know who determined it’s measures (Job 38:4-5)?

Who are we?

He got up on that cross, nails hammered through his hands and feet… and He suffocated to death.

Who are we?

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Psalm 103:1-5

Who are we? Who am I?

Two thousand and some years ago when He died, the temple, which was guarded by hypocrites, was taken over. God came down and tore the curtain, the wall, that set apart the Holy Place where only those good enough could go. Because it didn’t matter anymore. The sacrifice to end all sacrifices took place and nothing was ever the same again. We can now see God face to face. (Matthew 27:51).

Two thousand and some years ago when He died, tombs broke open because death couldn’t any longer keep people down. Death didn’t mean anything anymore. Death doesn’t mean anything anymore. People who had been six feet under got up and visited their loved ones. They got to live again. Restored. (Matthew 27:52).

Two thousand and some years ago when He died, they buried Him in a tomb and His followers hid in the room they had eaten dinner in the night before. With Jesus, the place they ate with Him. That one last time. They thought. Then. The unthinkable happened, unless you had been paying attention any time He had spoken – He got up out of that tomb. (Matthew 28:1-10).

He was true to His word and to all the words of the men and women of God that had gone before Him.

Who are we to say Jesus cannot fix everything? He already has.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Estera permalink
    31 March 2013 23:16

    Thank you for this Danike, it really really touched me!

  2. Sylvia permalink
    31 March 2013 23:43

    He is Risen Indeed! Hallelujah! Thank you, Danike, for these encouraging words. God has been stretching my faith and I needed the reminder that no problem is too big – or too small, for that matter…

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