Strange Blessings

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in. 

People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. 

When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms.  

Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.  

Peter said, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” 

And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. 

Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. 

Acts 3:1 – 8

Cancer has given me a whole new delight in this story, which was already a personal favorite.

A man, lame from birth, at the same old place doing the same old thing hoping for the same old subsistence rations. 

And instead – in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth – he gets HEALING! 

He gets exuberant, irrepressible JOY! 

He gets to throw off the weight of decades of begging for scraps and go leaping like a child into the house of the Father through Whom he has just been made well!

That kind of awe – that kind of “surprise!” – that kind of pure, unadulterated glee can ONLY be conferred in the name of “Jesus Christ of Nazareth.” 

No other name saves. 

And no other name catapults a middle-aged cripple into a liturgical dance, either.

Here’s the new angle that’s been one of God’s many, many gifts of tenderness to me during this past week of post-chemo challenges: 

That man knew just how blessed he was to be dancing because he had spent so many years trapped, sitting on the ground.

What we lack – especially what we lack for a long, long time – directly amplifies the power and pleasure of having.

If the man had not been “lame from birth” – if, say, he’d been the victim of an accident a few weeks or months prior to his encounter with Peter and John – his gratitude could not possibly have been as intense as it was after a lifetime of longing.

“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”

Proverbs 13:12. 

The waiting can make you heartsick… but the waiting makes the way for the LIFE. 

The waiting makes the way for the “sweetness of soul” which Proverbs 13:19 designates as the lot of those whose desires are realized.

But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
    they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:31

This works in retrospect, too, I am discovering. 

I look back over all the years I did NOT have cancer, and I am overwhelmed with a gratitude I would never have felt had I not had cancer, now. Weird, right? Straaaaaange! But such a blessing of insight.

The other part of the story that cancer has me seeing with new eyes: the way it emphasizes where and how the man (and Peter, and John) were looking

Review: “When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms.  Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.”

Clearly, seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple was not adequate for miracles. The lame man had to FIX HIS ATTENTION on the disciples – he had to EXPECT TO RECEIVE from them.

Peter could relate. 

Indeed, Peter’s specific empathy for gaze-challenges probably catalyzed both Peter’s own intentness of gaze and Peter’s emphatic directive, “Look at us.” 

Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Matthew 14:28 – 31

Peter KNOWS the power of fixed attention and expectations.

When he had looked at Jesus and expected to walk on water toward Him, he did.

And when he had looked at the raging tempest and expected to sink beneath it, he did.

Fixed attention and expectation quite literally make the difference between standing secure with God Incarnate, and drowning. 

They also make the difference between hoping for alms, and pirouetting into the sanctuary. 

ocean waves under cloudy sky during daytime

Wind and waves are facts of existence. 

They come disguised as many things – cancer being just one of them. 

But they are always imposters, always thieves, always looking to suck us down into watery depths where there is no firm foothold or air.

But Jesus… but Jesus. 

He is a fact of existence, too. And He is available – always – standing atop the wind and waves, standing over us as we scrabble for scraps in the dirt – saying “Look at me.”

“Look at me” – the One Who will empower you to walk on water and worship with dancing.

“Look at me” – the One Who holds your healing – ALL your healing – in His hands.

“Look at me” – the One Who loves you. The One Who will always love you. The One Who is with you… if only you will look up, look over, look at Him.

So the strange blessings continue to pour into my life through this thing called “cancer.” 

The gift of catching a glimpse of the love of Heaven, as expressed in my Christian community.

The gift of resting – literally – in the prayers of the Saints.

The gift of understanding just how incredible are routine mercies like a good night’s sleep.

The gift of fixing my attention on my Jesus and on my beloved people… 

“Look at us.” I DO, thanks at least in part to cancer.

Perhaps your wind and waves are in abeyance right now – oh, I hope they are! And I hope you are enjoying every moment!

But perhaps your wind and waves are fiercely pelting your eyes with salt-spray that stings and sucks your focus. Perhaps it’s unemployment. Or relationship heartache. Or the general state of this broken world. 

Regardless, I exhort you, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, look at HIM. Trust Him. Know that He will never leave you nor forsake you. And expect to receive from Him that which only He can give you: peace that surpasses understanding and joy that persists in all circumstances.

Amen.

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Shannon Vowell

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