Monday, April 6, 2026

Body of Truth

Bread dough courtesy google images
Word spread like yeast through rising dough that the most notorious man in the region was coming to my home. Men poured in from across the land. I am certain I saw the seams of the house pull against each other, struggling to hold together. Soon, bodies wedged into the room until air was forced out. The small portals on each wall protested, refusing to admit any refreshing breeze. But I didn't mind.

All of us wanted to hear what he would say, so we sat, ankles crossed, knees held to our chest, layering ourselves in tight rows across the expanse of the den. When the house could hold no more, men gathered outside in the street and surrounded the house. Getting close that day would take great determination and creativity. 

I am certain a great number came because of stories they had heard about the Rabbi, but many Pharisees and teachers of the law were in attendance, looking for an opportunity to prove He was a fraud. They showed up early, wanting the best seats. Whenever He opened His mouth, controversy flew about, chasing down the truths He presented. This in itself was something to behold, especially when the Pharisees tried to put Him in His place. 

Once everyone was situated where the Rabbi could be heard, He began to teach. I cannot remember what He said. The remaining air in the room adopted invisible lightning rods, causing the hairs on my arms and neck to become as needles stabbing me. Something was different. I think others felt it too. A murmur rippled through the men behind me. The unseen power hovering around me was so great that I trembled, almost fearful of what I could not see. 

When His gaze connected with mine, my thrashing heart settled. He swept the room with a glance, returning to pierce me with His wait for it smirk. Wait for what? No matter how I tried to imagine what He might be up to, I came up empty. 

Lowering the Paralytic through the roof - courtesy Google Images 

I reached up to brush a pool of sweat from my neck, and a clump of clay dropped onto my head. I looked toward the ceiling. More fell into my face. Scratching, digging, and what sounded like overgrown rodents skittered across my roof. More clay dropped. Men brushed dirt from their tunics, grumbling. The Rabbi continued to teach as though He heard nothing, and then He stepped back. Never once did He pause to address the disturbance. 

Before my mind could comprehend His movement, a bed came through my roof. Men pushed backwards to make room, brushing debris from their hair and clothes. I watched four men, peering down, guide a rope attached to the mattress. The low tones they used to communicate hummed. They did not deter the Rabbi from His speech. 

Soon, a man was lying on my floor, staring up into the hole he had just come through. The Rabbi looked at him, smiled, and said, “Son, your sins are forgiven you.”

Now, this was all it took for the room to erupt with coughs and throat gurgles. No one has the authority to forgive sins but Adonai alone. Who does this man think he is? He’s a good teacher and all, but to assume the authority of Adonai? I don’t think so. Maybe the Pharisees have some valid issue …

“Why do you reason about these things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Arise, take up your bed and walk?’ But that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins …”

My heart burned at His words. The Rabbi returned his attention to the man, His voice soothing, like ointment. “Arise, take up your bed, and go to your house.”

Immediately, the man obeyed. He was on his feet and carrying his bed out my door. 

Jesus Raised Lazarus from the dead - courtesy Google Images
I am not surprised that Rabbi Jesus healed the man. He does that all the time. But to forgive the man, and then that forgiveness unshackle his body? Astounding! I have never seen anything like it before. Of course, the Pharisees left sputtering something about traps and Beelzebub. 

Now, two years later, Rabbi Jesus is more controversial. In fact, while visiting the town of Bethany, I saw Him again. The crowds were in an uproar. He had called Lazarus from his tomb, where he’d been four days!

Note:
Luke 5: 17 – 26 NKJV
Mark 2: 1 – 12 NKJV

Until next time, let His glory shine in your hearts!  💜 Karlene J 💜

If Only ... But Then ...

If only it would rain …

The Empty Tomb Courtesy Google Images


If only she would come in. Find shelter. 


I couldn’t tell you how long she remained after the events of the day. None of us kept track of time.


No one could.


We’d all followed, trying to keep a distance but compelled to stay close to hear every syllable he breathed.


We’d followed, hoping to grasp how this man, who was loved and praised not three days ago, could be so deserving of this … bloodbath.


No one could escape the splatter of blood as his flesh was ripped from his body. Not one of us could stop streams from forming as blood mixed with sweat and tears and cut trails down the hillside.


Everything was now saturated in it, including her.


If only it would rain …


If only she would come in. Find shelter. Change her clothes … wash her face.


But she would hear nothing of the sort. Instead, she dropped to her knees, face to the ground, sobbing. Her tears mixed with the soil.


She had embraced him in life and now in his death. She refused to let him go. She would not hear the tales that spread about his blasphemy.


But then the sky turned black, and the ground shook beneath us. We ran for cover, afraid, hoping the earth wouldn’t open and swallow us whole, as it did to Korah and his people after they rebelled against Moses and Aaron.


I sense the emptiness and the ache deep within, as the earth groans over his absence. This could only be the work of God. 


She clung to the earth, refusing to be moved. Her shadowy form splayed across the ground as though it were her source of security. She turned her face toward the cross where he hung—lifeless now—and wailed, piercing our hearing with a force to shatter glass.


If only it would rain …


I turned my face towards the cross, where I could see the outline of his body, slumped against the wooden frame. My mind’s eye could see him.


A sight I don’t believe I will ever escape. I’m unsure whether I should try.


I really wish it would rain. But then, no amount of rain can wash these images from my mind.


Words. His words begin to flood my memory as I squint to make out his form.


I remember, my heart begins to pound.


I can hardly breathe.


Hope floods my soul.


This is not the end of his story. And now I long to join her out there, nearer to him as we wait … wait for him to complete what had begun today.


Because I am certain of this: HE will reign.



Numbers 16

Matthew 27:55

Luke 23:49

Body of Truth

Bread dough courtesy google images Word spread like yeast through rising dough that the most notorious man in the region was coming to my ho...