The Thanks Giving Leper

Luke 17:11-17  
¹¹ Now it happened as He went to Jerusalem that He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. ¹² Then as He entered a certain village, there met Him ten men who were lepers, who stood afar off. ¹³ And they lifted up their voices and said, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"
¹⁴ So when He saw them, He said to them, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And so it was that as they went, they were cleansed.
¹⁵ And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, returned, and with a loud voice glorified God, ¹⁶ and fell down on his face at His feet, giving Him thanks. And he was a Samaritan.
¹⁷ So Jesus answered and said, "Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine?

Make no mistake, this actually happened. It’s HIStorically accurate. Yet, the Truth of the message, is timely and applicable to us, here and now, today.

It’s just like Jesus to pass through, the midst, of Samaria and Galilee. He loves being in the midst. Whenever we’re together, talking about Him; He shows up right in our midst.

He’s headed to Jerusalem, the holy city where political bigshots and religious elite, hang out. But He makes it a point to tell us, that on the way, He goes right through the midst of Samaria and Galilee; Redneckville, where fishermen, and carpenters, and roughnecks and rednecks, hangout.

His earthly dad was a carpenter. Some of His best friends were fishermen. Working and walking with Jesus, meant (and means) you’re gonna get dirty. His journey to Jerusalem, wasn’t from the privacy of a gold-plated chariot.

It gets better.

He enters a certain village. Perhaps, Whispering Pines Village, where I’m at, right now. Or, perhaps, that certain place, where you’re at.

Imagine, He enters, right there, in your midst. The bigshots in Jerusalem have to wait; because there’s a VIP, in a certain place, who’s not having such a great day.

Yes, they’re lepers. And yes indeed, they are VIPs. Jesus loves the lonely, is near the broken-hearted, and gathers the outcasts.

The ten, stand way back. Too timid to draw near, too desperate to let Him pass. So, they shout, “Master, have mercy!”

Did you know, ten, represents the whole?

All of us are among the ten lepers. Not skin-leprosy, but sin-leprosy. We’re covered with the rotting, decaying body of sin and death. If you think you’re not—you’re at stage-four.

They were sent to show and tell. Show the priest, tell him what happened. That was the proper protocol of the law in that day, (Leviticus 13-14).

As one of the lepers, I can say, the path to the priest was painful, too painful, and far too far.

No matter, it was what the law required.

But why go? I see no change. I’m still just a leper…but, at His word, I go.

The heat bakes bleeding flesh. The rocks cut infected feet.

Breathless, I find a ragged voice and cry, "Unclean, unclean," to warn anyone near, to clear the way for a wretch such as I. Step aside, or risk being contaminated with the stench and filth I carry. "Unclean, unclean," I cry… as I cry.

At last, almost there; the steep hill to the city of the priest. Will they allow entrance to a dog like me?

My throat, as dry as the dusty road. One step, one word, "Unclean." Another step, another word, "Unclean."

Over and over, those wretched words. "Unclean, unclean." I didn't ask for this. “Unclean.” But here I am, "Unclean."

My parched throat chokes on dust and the words come out all wrong, (cough) “—clean,” (gasp) “— clean.”

Those who always look away, now look my way.

The others repeat, "Clean! Clean!" 

Are they mocking me? Louder they laugh, "CLEAN! CLEAN!" 

They won't stop. I close my eyes, cover my ears…and all goes white.

Ears? I have ears, not crusty deteriorated flaps of flesh. And hands, with fingers, all ten! CLEAN! CLEAN! WE’RE CLEAN! 

I jump on feet that were just stubs. Run on legs—real legs, not hunks of flesh swinging from a bloody stump.

Fresh air rushes through fresh lungs, no longer a rusty chain through a rocky crag.

Words crisp and clean echo from smiling lips, "CLEAN! CLEAN!" 

I run like the wind, like a school boy at play.

Up the hill? To the temple? To the priest? No. No! a thousand times NO! I don’t need the law to tell me. I don’t need some priest to cleanse me. I’M CLEAN! I’M CLEAN. CLEAN. CLEAN.

I jump and run and shout all the way…until I collapse, at His feet. To give thanks, thanks upon thanks, a million times and forever, thanks.

He smiles, lifts me up and gives me a hug. His smile dips a bit as He looks around, “Where are the others?”

He knows this road. He's climbed this hill. He knew we couldn’t make it, so He met us. His flesh hung in ribbons between heaven and hell, bearing the scars of my sin...and yours.

Like it or not, we’re all, a part of this story. We get to choose who we'll be.

The one who realized the path-to-the-priest was back to The Priest.

Or, one of the nine, who grabbed life, but ignored, The Source of Life.

Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever. Psalm 136:1