Below is a Thanksgiving story I wrote in 1982 and recently revised. My hope is that you will use it with family and friends to pause, then give thanks. It is an attempt to get under the obvious of the incident of Jesus and the ten lepers in Luke 17:11-19.
WARNING: this is much longer than a normal blog post. Just so you know.
Why
did this happen to me? I’d seen it so many times, but now it is ME! As a doctor
I know the prognosis of this all too well. Leprosy is a death sentence, but a
very slow death sentence.
Yellow,
red and purple patches appeared on my skin. Eventually I will lose feeling
wherever they appear. It will probably move to the inside of my nose, throat
and eyes. Eventually my extremities will be completely numb. If I don’t die
from injury due to my inability to feel, I will eventually become paralyzed and
my muscles will waste away.
As
I said, I may die of injury. Often, because the skin loses the ability to feel
anything, a person will cut or burn himself severely and not even realize it.
As a result he will lose part of the limb or even his life, bleeding to death
or from infection of the untreated wound.
It’s
not a pretty way to live or die. But now it IS ME! ME! Dreaded leprosy has
invaded and attacked my body.
Why
God, why? Had I not dedicated my life to treating lepers in need of medical
attention? Perhaps my boldness in the face of this dreaded disease was my
downfall. But, I thought, surely, if there is a God in Heaven, He will protect
me. I had dedicated myself to helping the sick and diseased, to relieve human
suffering. Not for the money... God in Heaven knows there was little of that in
treating the lowest of the low. I didn’t do it for position or for anything
selfish. But now, what use am I? Only 5 years as a doctor and now I am banished
from society as a LEPER! It’s not right! It’s not fair! Where, oh, where is God
now?
At
first I tried to hide the blotches, tried to deny what was obvious to me but
unnoticed by anyone else. I was doing humanitarian work so it must just be a
rash, right? It couldn’t, it shouldn’t happen to me. But I knew, oh, I knew I
couldn’t stay. In the deafening quiet of those long nights I grappled with what
was ahead. I knew I could not risk infecting those I loved, but do you have any
idea how hard it is to say good-bye for FOREVER??? FOREVER!! Early one morning
I covered my body for one last hug and said good-bye. I couldn’t even touch
them one last time, to give my wife a tender kiss, to caress the soft skin of
my children. I said goodbye Forever.
Good-bye
to my wonderful, lovely, wife Rachel. The best wife a man could have.
Good-bye
to my 3 year old son, Levi
Good-bye
to my beautiful baby girl, Elizabeth.
The
tears were unstoppable that day. I still weep when I think of my little Jacob
calling to me, impossible for him to understand why his daddy had to leave.
Tears for the loss of my family and all I knew. Tears because I knew the
hopelessness of the life ahead. Tears for the coming struggles of my family
without me to provide. No one to support them financially, to love them,
protect them, to guide them. Tears because I knew my children would not
remember me. Tears because, short of a miracle, I would never see them again.
Tears because as with all lepers, no matter how good they are, they are
society’s pariahs, outcasts FOR LIFE!!
That
was three years ago. The longest 24 months of my life. I suppose I’m better off
than most of the nine men I live with have had the disease much longer. I try
to help them as much as I can but I have limited supplies. I’m afraid I don’t
have much time left – the disease has covered most of my body and I have little
feeling left. Perhaps dying would be a blessing. That’s about all we live for
anyway. Just living to die. I’ve thought about taking my own life but it just
isn’t in me to do it. No family, no health, no meaningful work, no hope – not
much of a life.
We’ve
often discussed what we would do for the man who would heal us. Some say they
would bow down and worship him. Others that they would give him half of all
they earn the rest of their lives. Still others claim they would be his slave
for life. Ah, such dreams and discussions. It doesn’t really matter because it
will never happen. But dreaming is something to do and it keeps us from
throwing a never ending pity party.
We’ve
heard some talk of a Jewish Messiah traveling around the countryside. People
say He performs miracles; you know, things like calming a stormy sea, feeding
thousands of people, healing all sorts of diseases, and even raising the dead.
CRAZY TALK as far as I’m concerned. Such rumors float around every few years
and it always turns out to be bogus hope for people who have nothing. Some of
the fellows have latched on to hope in this man – anything to hope for! But
it’s empty hope. And besides, since he is a Jew there is no way he would heal a
Samaritan like me. Years ago my people and the Jews had a falling out and it’s
been brutal hatred ever since. Except with these guys. When you have leprosy it
levels things out. All that separate us loses its importance when you’re slowly
dying together. But THIS man, I think His Name is Jesus, is NOT a leper and He
IS a Jew. If He helps anyone it will be the Jews among us, not a Samaritan.
Some
of the guys heard that this Jesus is coming our way and want to at least get a
glimpse of Him. I told them I would tag along, not because I think there’s
hope, but because some of the older men need a hand to get around and, frankly,
I don’t like to be alone. So we are going. At least it gives us something to do
and keeps us from arguing and sulking.
The
trip seems long, even though it isn’t far. The slow pace of the elderly and ill
drags it out but we finally arrive outside of the village where Jesus is
supposed to pass through. We can’t go in, so we sit 50 yards outside the town,
along the road, waiting to see Him when He walks by.
After
a few hours, a small band of people appear in the distance. As they move closer
we can see some 10 to 15 men and a few women. Not much of a following for a
Messiah if you ask me. One by one the guys get to their feet. Old Hezekiah in
the back begins to shout, “Jesus! Have pity on us!” It is only a moment until
the others joined in, “Jesus! Have pity on us!” Okay, this is embarrassing –
they DID NOT tell me they were going to do this! Don’t they know it is useless?
No they don’t.
I
look toward the band of travelers to see how badly this is going to go. I catch
only a glimpse of His profile, but I swear I see care mixed with surprise and
delight where I expect disdain. And the slightest hint of a mischevious smile
breaks across His face. Maybe... Just maybe... You think? Could the guys be on
to something? So I join in. What do I have to lose? I’m a dying leper. “Jesus,
Master, have mercy on us! Lord, please help us! Jesus, please heal us! Have
pity!”
When
Jesus faces us and lifts His head, all yelling suddenly stops. As one we fall
silent. Never have we seen such compassion on the face of any man. It is almost
as if He is suffering with us, feeling the physical and emotional pain we live
with.
Then
He says the strangest thing. “Go show yourselves to the priest.”
What?
You HAVE GOT to be joking. That’s not what He’s supposed to say. It’s supposed
to be, “Behold! I will indeed heal you! Be clean!” But, “Go show yourselves to
the priest!?” Even a Samaritan knows you only do that AFTER you are healed.
I
stand looking at Him in shock, but the others turn to walk toward the
synagogue. Weird, is all I can say. Truthfully, I’m disgusted and dismayed. All
this traveling, yelling, pleading, and Jesus skyrocketing my hopes. Then
nothing. NOTHING! Go to the priest, my foot. This was the big bust I expected.
But I’m with this sorry troop so I go along to help the old and ill fellows.
But my mind doesn’t stop whining, “this is crazy. The most ridiculous thing
I’ve ever heard of. The people in this town are going to stone us before we
ever make it to the priests. What a way to die.”
As
we near the edge of town my feet start feeling funny. Not as in “ha, ha,” but
as in odd. It’s a sensation like I’ve never felt. It starts at the bottom of my
feet and slowly works up my body. It feels, I know you’re not going to believe
this, but it feels like someone is scratching the INSIDE of my skin. The rest
of the guys stop too. The looks on their faces say all I need to know. Everyone
feels it. We must be a sight – a bunch of smelly lepers gawking at one another
in the middle of the road with peculiar expressions. After the odd sensation
passes, Old Hezekiah looks at me in the oddest way. His eyes go wide and his
mouth gapes as he mutters, “Uh... uh... er... I mean...”
“What’s
wrong Hezzy? Spit it out man! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Your...
I mean your... er, your... your ARM!” He finally rasps. You should probably
know that the arm he was pointing at was the most infected, ugliest part of my
disease. He continues to point and shout,
“The leprosy! It’s gone! You’re healed!”
I
look down and he’s right! I stand staring as the hard drive in my mind cannot
process it. Ugly, stinky, deformed one moment and completely perfect the next.
Even the rancid smell is gone. When I can finally move I quickly check my feet,
legs, stomach. EVERY PLACE I had been infected is healed. EVERY SINGLE PLACE. I
didn’t think we could have looked any weirder, but I was wrong. Ten men with
ragged clothes standing in the middle of the road lifting sleeves, tunics,
under robes to check the places where leprosy had damaged. CLEAN! Every person
and every spot. CLEAN! But there’s more: those who were crippled are walking.
Those who were deaf, hear. Those who were blind, see. Those who lost fingers
and toes have new ones. EVERYTHING is healed. Beyond comprehension. The miracle
we had prayed for, dreamed of is no longer a dream. It is reality.
I
thought we couldn’t look weirder, I was wrong. Ten grown men in the middle of
the street as giddy as school girls, jumping, screaming, hugging, laughing,
crying, grabbing people walking by and showing them our clean skin. You
wouldn’t believe the looks, but we didn’t care. This is the greatest day of our
lives. THE greatest. NOTHING will ever top this!
One
by one, our energy exhausts and we sit heavily to the ground. Catching our
breath, one of the guys says, “Well, I guess we should get on to the priests to
be declared OFFICIALLY clean. “
I
start to agree and then freeze. “Wait a minute, “ I object. “Aren’t we
forgetting something here? First we need to go back to Jesus to thank Him for
what He has done. This IS a miracle after all.”
“But
I DESERVED to be healed!” says Amos. “I have been a leper for 3 years. Why
should I be grateful. It was God’s fault in the first place that I needed to be
healed!”
All
the guys shake their head in agreement with Amos.”But He didn’t HAVE to heal
us,” I insist.
“And
besides, don’t you remember what you said you would do for the man who healed
you – bow to worship Him, be His slave for life, give half your income for
life? What about that?”
“But
what He told us to do was to go show ourselves to the priest,” remarks Isaac,
one of the younger men. “He did not tell us to return to thank Him. We need to
get to the priest.”
“Yeah,
we’ll thank God at the synagogue,” reasoned Benjamin, obviously anxious to get
home.
I
refuse to give in. “But this Jesus fellow is the One we ought to thank.
Obviously He is from God, but He is the One who gave us back our lives.”
“Look,
we want to get back to our families and our lives ASAP.” Anger is beginning to
show in their voices. “If you want to take the time to go all the way back,
track down Jesus, take the time to thank Him for something God should have done
for us a long time ago and then come all the way back to the priest, that’s
your business. Besides, who are you, a Samaritan, to tell us what to do anyway?
C’mon fellas, let’s hit the road.”
“Hold
it! You don’t know what you are doing! You are turning your backs on the very
Man to whom you owe your life! Change your minds. Come with me. It won’t take
that long! We’ve got the rest of our lives. Don’t do something you will regret.
It’s not too late, my friends! Turn back!”
“We
are not your friends, Samaritan!” Shouts Benjamin as they continue to walk.
I
stand there shaking my head. It is no use. They just keep walking. Several
pause for a moment as they look back, as if they know I am right, but in the
end all nine keep walking away.
Numb,
I watch until they are out of sight in the village. How can anyone who has been
given so much be so ungrateful? We have been given so much, given so very, very
much. It begins to sink in just HOW MUCH. I have been given a new life, a new
body, rescued from certain death, a new career, a new chance with my family.
MY
FAMILY! I have my family back! My little Elizabeth, she will be walking now,
with teeth, talking. My young Levi. Wow! He’s 6 now. How he must have grown.
And my wonderful Rachel. Rachel... Her face fills my mind as the tears stream
down my face.
I
laugh out loud and long. Won’t they be surprised! I can’t wait to see the look
on Rachel’s face when I walk into our home. To feel her sweet kiss and embrace.
To play ball with my Levi. To hold my Elizabeth on my lap. MY FAMILY!
Literally
I HAVE BEEN GIVE A NEW LIFE! A new medical practice. A new home. A new
everything. I OWE EVERYTHING TO JESUS. For the first time in 3 years there is
hope and life and beauty and wonder. But before I go back to all of that, I
have to find Jesus. I HAVE to find Jesus. The most important thing in my life
right now is to say THANK YOU.
With
every step a wave of the richness of what Jesus has done washes over me.
Stronger and deeper. He didn’t just take away the leprosy, He brought me back to
life! HE BROUGHT ME BACK TO LIFE!
Gratitude
wells up from deep within. It grows and grows and grows until I feel like I
will come apart. If I try to hold it in I will die, so out it comes...
“Glory
to God!
Praise
the Lord for all His blessings!
All
honor and power be to Jehovah
He
is wonderful, marvelous, loving and kind
His
goodness is from everlasting to everlasting
His
mercy has no beginning and no end!”
People
cross to the other side of the road as I pass by. “Another lunatic,” they mutter
but I don’t care. Two Roman soldiers even lift their spears as I skip by,
afraid it is a trick. I don’t care. Life is good! I AM HEALED!
Finally
I spot Jesus and dash toward Him with all my strength and speed, shouting
praises. Before His disciples can react I fall (it was actually more of a dive)
at His feet. “Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you
so very, very much. You don’t realize what great things you have done for me.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
I
feel His hand on my shoulder and I stop babbling my thanks. “Were not all ten
cleansed?” I hear Him ask. I start to answer, but, as I look up, I realize He
is not expecting an answer. He is pleading with all mankind. Deep sadness is
etched into His face. The brokenness of His heart expressed in His words almost
break me. Who would have thought ingratitude could affect such a man as this?
From each eye slips a tear, gently etching a clean crease down His dusty face.
“Where
are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except
this foreigner?” No bitterness as speaks the word “foreigner”. No anger toward
me, but it feels like He is hurting as much for a dearly loved Someone as for
Himself.
Jesus
reaches down, takes my hands and gently raises me to my feet. His eyes meet
mine as He says, “Go, your faith has made you well.” I begin to walk away, then
it occurs to me, “What an odd thing to say... your faith has saved you.”
I
look back at the same time He glances in my direction. There is that twinkle in
His eye and mischievous grin on His face again. He nods as if to say, “Yeah,
you heard me right. Your faith has made you well.”
Another
sensation shoots through my body, different from the first but just as
powerful. Instead of physical healing, it is a warmth of joy, peace, love and a
strange assurance that I will never again be alone. Made well. Honestly, I
don’t understand it, but it is good and I know I have been changed.
A
new lease on life through healing. A new life through salvation.
I
have a new life. He healed my body, returned my family, resumed my career, and
instilled hope. All those physical things that were of such importance to me
when I was a leper have been returned. Funny thing is, since I have them back,
I believe I could do without them... now that I’ve met Jesus
It
is what He did when I went back to say thanks that has truly transformed me in
inexplicable ways. It’s like He’s still with me. And you know, I think He is.
No, no... I am SURE there is a part of Him still in the depths of my soul.
And
He was right, I will never been alone again.
And
to think... it is all because I simply said, “Thank you.”
----------------------------
1
Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV) give thanks in all circumstances,
for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
There is ALWAYS something to thank God for.
Always.
Here’s
a prayer to help:
“We thank you, Lord, IN all circumstances...
for the
many blessings you have provided,
for the
hard things we’ve been through,
for the
times we watched You show up,
for the
times we didn’t understand, and still don’t,
for the
good things we see and those we do not,
for what
we haven’t lost but could have
for the
little and big that we take for granted
for the
air we breathe, the food we eat, the shelter over our heads,
for the
people we love, the work we do
for the
days of laughter, the days of tears and the days of ordinary
In all these circumstances and in so many more, we
say THANKS!”
© Herb Shaffer 1982, revised 2014
