Mark 7 - Where's Your Heart

January 2, 2006 7:00-8:30

To be honest the first time I met Jesus he really upset me.  He upset a lot of people that day.  In short he told us Pharisees that we weren’t the great spiritual teachers we thought we were.  He called us hypocrites.  “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.”  We all knew that verse by heart.  The prophet Isaiah wrote it almost five hundred years ago.  I never imagined Isaiah would be talking about me.

  

Boy, when Jesus said that me and my friends were furious.  First, Jesus was saying that although we looked very righteous on the outside, we weren’t spiritual on the inside.  I couldn’t believe it.  If I wasn’t a spiritual person, then no one was.  I paid tithe faithfully even as a little child.  I never broke the Sabbath rules.  I memorized more of the Pentateuch and prophets than many other Pharisees, let alone common Jews.  How could I possibly be unspiritual?

  

Most of the other Pharisees wrote Jesus off that day.  He had embarrassed us all publicly.   Oh yeah, they went to hear him speak again, but the only reason they went was to trip him up with impossible questions or gather evidence against him.  I went to hear him again because he interested me.  I couldn’t get his statement out of my mind.  Had Isaiah really been talking about me?  That night when I got home I couldn’t sleep.  I did honor God with my lips, no one would doubt that, but was my heart really far from him?

  

Late in the night I finally crawled out of bed and went to the roof.  I couldn’t help but think of God’s view of me?  If I only looked good on the outside, I couldn’t imagine God was pleased with that.  But what else could I do?  I kept all the laws.  If that didn’t please God, I could not think what would.  Right there I knelt down and prayed.  For a moment I could not even speak.  How long had it been since I last prayed?

  “Their hearts are far from me.”  If I really had a heart for God, I probably should have tried to talk to him more. 

 

“God,” I said, “I really do want to honor you.  I guess I just don’t know how.  I try to obey the law, but . . .”  I didn’t know what else to say.  For a few minutes I stayed bowed unable to formulate my thoughts.  

“God, I want to honor you with my heart and my lips.  Please show me how.”

I slowly got to my feet and sat down on the wall.  Nothing happened.  I didn’t know what was supposed to happen.  I didn’t think a scroll would fall from heaven with the answer written inside, but I guess I kind of expected something.  It wasn’t until then that I considered the other part of Jesus’ statement that we had found offensive.  Although Jesus never explicitly said it, when He quoted Isaiah He made it seem as though there was a connection between not honoring God and not honoring Him. 

 

All the Pharisees had heard of the miracles Jesus performed up north in Galilee.  Even before I ever saw Him the word, “Messiah” was being thrown around.  Could it be?  I remember I laughed at the thought.  But, what if He was?  I couldn’t believe the devil was the cause of healing miracles.  After all, Jesus was the one who seemed concerned that my heart did not honor God, why should He care unless He really did  want us to honor Jehovah?  

“Talk to Jesus.” 

No, no one spoke that audibly, but I did hear it from my heart.  Talk to Jesus?  If any of my friends found me talking to him I’d never be allowed to be a Pharisee.  

“But what if He has the answers?” my heart said.  

For many minutes I stood on my roof unable to decide.  To be caught taking with Jesus would mean the end of everything I had worked for.  If I lost my status for the babbling of a crazed lunatic, I’d never be forgiven.  

“Go to him at night.  Go tonight!”  

Now there was a thought.  If I visited Him at night I wouldn’t have to risk any loss.  If He was who others claimed He was, I only stood to gain.  If He were merely a deranged man, no one  would know, and I would lose nothing.  Without another moment’s hesitation I got dressed and stepped out into the streets of the city.  

You probably know the rest of the story.  Jesus made it very clear that He was God’s only begotten Son.  God sent Him into the world to die on a cross and forgive us of our sin.  I finally understood that I had not kept the whole law.  Jesus said later that the single greatest commandment was to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind.  No one could ever completely do that.  No one could give God the honor He has always deserved.  That is why Jesus had to die.  The sinless Son of God bore our sins on the cross in our place.  

When I heard that Jesus rose from the dead, when I saw Him ascend into heaven, when God finally answered the prayer I prayed that night on the roof - then, I gave Jesus my heart.  

Mark 6 - Unbelievable Unbelief

Yeah, I saw Jesus once.  That was all it took.  I heard him once, and I never wanted to hear him again.  He would have been pathetic, except he fooled so many people.  It irritated me.  Someone should have just killed him then and saved the whole country a lot of trouble.  In fact, as I remember they tried to, but he disappeared.  

First of all, he comes into town with his little entourage.  Now, I’m no great religious guru, but even I could have found a better following than this guy.  Seriously, most of his chosen twelve were fishermen.  Oh yeah, that inspires a lot of confidence.  We all know how much intelligence it takes to toss a net.  Then, I found out later from a friend of mine that another guy’s a former tax collector.  Now, I know tax collectors, I have to deal with them all the time.  If a tax collector says he’s  become religious I know there’s fraud somewhere along the line.  Tax collectors only know how to follow the money.  They don’t have a sincere religious bone in their bodies.  So this Jesus character has some fishermen, a tax collector, some nutty political zealot, a few others, and a guy who in the end sells him out for thirty pieces of silver.  You think about that for a second.  If this Jesus really was a half-decent prophet don’t you think he could have figured out what this fellow was gonna do?

Anyway, Jesus and his disciples stroll into Nazereth like their expecting some type of party in their honor.  He goes into the synagogue and starts preaching this and that.  At first some people were like, ‘Woah, where did this guy learn all this stuff?’  Now, I’m telling you I wasn’t one of the ones fooled - because I am smarter than that - but a lot of people were.  It was freaky some of the things these people almost fell for.  

But then, luckily, they start remembering.  This guy, Jesus, was from Nazereth.  He had lived there almost his whole life.  He grew up practically down the street from the synagogue.  He was nothing special.  His sisters married guys in the area and were still around there.  Mary, his own mother, everyone knew her.  She was a nice enough lady.  In fact, I almost felt bad for her that her son would be doing something so embarrassing to her.  

Notice I said, “I almost felt bad for her.”  Not many people may know this, but Mary wasn’t all sweet and innocent like she came off to be. I mean, that’s what I heard anyway.  I moved into town not long after her husband died.  A rumor was floating around that Mary got pregnant before she even was married.  Joseph wasn’t the guy either, if you know what I mean?  Mary gets pregnant with Jesus, and Joseph married her just to try to keep her looking respectable.  He’s a nicer guy than I would be.  If my girlfriend got pregnant from some other guy, I’d drop her so fast . . .

So yeah, all this is going through my head while I’m hearing this guy talking about the Old Testament like he’s our long awaited Messiah.  Well, he may have worked up some crowds later on, but he didn’t fool me none.  Sure, sure, he healed some sick people, but to be honest the people were all faking anyway.  I bet as soon as he healed them they ran off to the next town to fake like their lame again and fool those people too.  What a pathetic racket!

Well, the good news is that the guy is dead now.  Yeah, I know his stupid little fisherman followers are saying he rose from the dead; but really, what else would you expect them to say?  We were right.  They were wrong.  And now they are just acting delusional.  I heard one of them the other day, as I was doing business in Jerusalem.  The guy said that if I wasn’t a believer in Jesus when I died God would send me to everlasting punishment.  

Yeah, seriously.  That’s what he said.  

You want to know what I think.  I think that when I die and stand before God we’re going to find out real fast who was right, Jesus or me.  And you can bet God is not going to make me spend eternity where Jesus is.  

Mark 5 - Found Healing

March 24, 2003 9:00-9:30

The world had nothing for me.  Nothing but lies or deceit.  They promised healing.  They promised freedom.  But in return I only grew worse.  

For twelve years, twelve years I suffered.  For twelve years I tried remedy after promised remedy with no result.  I just wanted to be happy again.  I just wanted to be whole, clean.  But I couldn’t be.  

I saw all the things they offered.  I believed all the lies they told.  I went to one doctor after the other, searching for the answer, searching for the healing I knew could be found.  But they didn’t have it.  All they did was take my money.  Take my money and quietly admit they could do nothing for me.  

And all the time the issue got worse.  Every doctor failed to find a cure, but certainly succeeded in causing more pain, more problems.  Until Jesus.

It had gotten to a point that I hated to even leave the house anymore.  I hated the scorn and disgust of people.  But when I heard of Jesus, when I heard of his healing hands, his healing touch, his kind heart, I had to go. 

  

He and his followers were moving through a crowd.  They were being jostled at every step.  Everyone wanted to talk to him, to hear from him, to receive help from him.  How could I approach him?  How could I who was so dirty and disgusting publicly ask him to heal me?  But then I thought, perhaps if I just touched him.  Maybe if I could but feel his garment his power would cleanse me.

I slipped through the bustling crowd.  I drew near the man.  He came close.  He seemed to be hurrying somewhere.  I touched his garment.  He stopped.  He stopped and turned around looking, wondering.  

“Who touched me?” he asked. 

His disciples thought he was joking.  

“Who touched me?” he asked again.

I had been caught.  I could not escape.  I shuddered to think within moments I would be publicly embarrassed.  

“I did.” I answered and bowed at his feet in the vain hope he would not mock me in front of the crowd.  

But then I saw his eyes.  In them was no disgust.  In them was no desire to hurt or mock.  In his eyes I saw love, care, sympathy.  In him I had found what I searched for.  Healing.  I had gone to the world and returned hurt, empty, and broken.  I sought Christ and found more than healing.  I found love.  

Mark 4 - Do You Care?

Wednesday, October 02, 2002   1:00-2:30

I have said many things in my life that I now regret.  Some were words spoken foolishly.  Others were spoken hastily.  Many were said not knowing all the facts.  Later, when it was too late to make a difference, when I found out what really had happened, I wished I would not have said anything at all.  

Even in my conversations with the Master I can recall saying things that displeased him or hurt him.  Jesus was never one to rebuke us harshly or publicly unless it was absolutely necessary.  Often he would call us privately and correct us with a gentle spirit.  Sometimes he would not need to say anything at all.  He could just look at me, and I would know my wrong.  It was times like that I would almost rather that he yell at me.  It seemed nothing could be worse than looking into the face of the Son of God and knowing words you said had caused him pain.  It was not till He went to the cross that I realized how painful my sinful words could truly be.

  

Once, we were all crossing the Sea of Galilee when a storm blew in.  Being well experienced fishermen, we knew from the look of the clouds the storm would be a rough one, but just how rough we could never have guessed.  The light of the setting sun was quickly blocked by black clouds, and the wind seemed to grab the tops of the waves and hurl the sea crashing into our eyes.  Just crossing the floor of the boat against the wind was a trial.  Then the rain came.  Even with the sea in our eyes we could watch the curtain of falling water race across the surface of the sea and engulf us.  It poured.  I’m not sure if the waves or the rain dumped more water into our little boat.  But here we were, bailing, rowing, pleading for our lives in the middle of this deluge, when I turned around and noticed something curled up in the back of the boat.  It was Jesus sleeping like a little picture of peace. 

 

I have to admit, when I got over the shock of someone being able to sleep through this I became mad.  Alright, I became furious.  Certain death faced us on every wave, yet Jesus slept.  All of us were straining at our posts.  We bailed, but could not bail enough.  We rowed, but could not possibly row enough.  And while each man did his job, we prayed, yet by the increasing strength of the storm it seemed evident we could not pray enough.  And all the while Jesus slept.     

         

The water now covered a significant portion of the boat’s floor. Those who had been previously rowing left their posts to help the rest of us bail.  If the ship filled with water, it made little difference which way the boat was facing.  I stumbled to the back of the boat to wake Jesus.  It seems no one else had noticed him sleeping.  A look of shock and surprised covered many faces as they realized our Master was still sleeping.  At that the men seemed to give up hope.  Our Master did not seem to care whether or not we died.  Why should we care?

When I reached the back of the boat I put one hand on Jesus while grasping the rail to keep my balance with the other hand.  

“Jesus!  Jesus!”

He stirred.  Looked around, then turned to face me.  I am sure He saw the fear.  

“Master, don’t you care we’re going to perish?”

He looked at me with disappointment in his eyes, but at the time I thought nothing of it.  Jesus stood where He was, lifted his arms, and said, “Peace.  Be still.”  What one moment was a raging sea the next moment was a placid lake.  We stared in amazement and awe at a peaceful evening on the Sea of Galilee.  I turned to look at Jesus.

“Why were you so fearful?”

I had no answer.

“Why do you have such little faith?”

It was not until many years later that I remembered what I said to Jesus on the lake.  Perhaps the amazement over what Jesus had done had made me forget my foolish statement. 

“Master, don’t you care we are going to perish?”

How foolish I was?  Was that not why Jesus came to earth?  Because He knew we were going to perish without Him.  Everything Jesus did was because He did not want us to perish.  No one else has ever lived who has cared more about people who are perishing.  These were my thoughts as I penned the words, “For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  He doesn’t want us to perish.  That’s why He came.  

Mark 3 - Chosen By God

Saturday, December 30, 2006    5:45 - 6:45

Looking back on my life, I’ve always wondered, “Why me?”  Of the hundreds and thousands of people that came out to follow Jesus, why did He choose me to be a disciple?  There was certainly nothing special, nothing extraordinary about me, I was just a simple fisherman from Galilee.  Yet that day on the mountain He called out twelve of us, just twelve men who he would pour His life into.  He called Peter.  I don’t know what Peter’s reaction would have been if Jesus hadn’t chosen him!  He called James and John, Andrew and Philip, Matthew, Thomas, James, Thaddeus, Simon, . . . Judas . . . and me, Bartholomew.  

We didn’t know what we were getting into!  Jesus had done some miracles by then, but this was still early in His ministry.  It seemed obvious to everybody that He was a great man, but the Messiah, our Savior, the Son of God?

  None of us really understood that until He died; well, until He rose again.  When He rose from the dead after three days we knew, we finally really knew what He had spent three years trying to teach us.  Jesus Christ was no mere great man, not just a great prophet.  Jesus Christ truly was the Son of God sent to die on the cross for the sins of the world.  My friend, Jesus died for me.  He died to give me life.  He shed His precious blood so that I might have an eternal relationship with my God!     

Now as I look back after all these years, I am so grateful!  I’m grateful because He did choose me.  He didn’t choose everybody.  Not everybody who followed him around Judea worships Him as their Savior.  Many his sayings and commands became to hard for them to keep.  People didn’t want to leave the comforts of their homes to go out and tell others about him.  People didn’t want to give their money to spread his message of hope.  Many found it to dangerous to be associated with Him after they saw Him killed.  But not me.  Sure, there were times I just wanted to throw everything away and go home.  He sent us out once with no money, no food, just the clothes on our back.  I thought He was crazy!  But He was right, God somehow provided for all our needs.  

Once He asked us if we wanted to leave Him and go home, but Peter, like always, answered for us all.  “Where would we go?  You have the Words of Life.”

Jesus did have it all.  He had wisdom.  Not the self-serving knowledge of the Pharisees, Jesus possessed true, Godly wisdom.  He had love.  Each time He spoke to someone or healed someone, you could see in His eyes: He really cared about them.  And Jesus had joy.  Even in the tough times Jesus showed joy.  He smiled constantly.  It was almost impossible to feel discouraged when we were around Him.  

No, when Jesus chose me, when He died for me, when I saw He was alive again; I chose, right then, I chose to give every day for the rest of my life to Him.  He bought me and saved me and deserves all there is of me.  I still don’t know why, but I’m eternally grateful for the day Jesus Christ chose me!  

Mark 2 - Fixing A Broken Faith

October 20, 2001 11:50 - 1:00

I wish I could say I believed he’d be healed.  To be honest I wish I could say I really wanted to be there.  I didn’t.  In fact the only reason I was there was because these were my friends, and I didn’t have the heart to say, “No.”  The whole time I was thinking about how stupid of an idea it was, and about how much trouble we were going to get into.

Simeon moved to our neighborhood when I was twelve.  He never became the fastest kid in the neighborhood, nor was he the funniest, or even the smartest.  For the longest time he was just sort of there.  The four of us, James, Reuben, John, and I,  would get together, and Simeon would tag along.  He never said much, and at first we didn’t really want him around, but after a while we got used to having him along.  He would laugh at our jokes, and when he did speak he usually had something good to say.  After a while, we started looking at him like our little brother. 

 

Simeon was the type that easily could have been picked on, he was so quiet and shy.  That’s where we came in.  Once several boys from the other side of town saw Simeon, and thought they had found an easy target.  They gathered around him, and started calling him names and shoving him.  James was the first to see what was going on.  He came running down the street to John, Reuben, and I.

“Guys!  Some kids are beating up Simeon.”

By the time we got there, the guys had Simeon crying.  He had some scrapes on his arms and legs from being thrown to the ground.  That was not what we needed to see.  The four of us went in there and the guys never knew what hit them.  By the next day word about what we had done got around town.  No one ever messed with Simeon after that.

It was a year or so after the fight that Simeon began having some trouble.  He would complain to his mother about headaches and sickness, she would keep him at home and try to help him get better, but nothing seemed to work.  None of the doctor’s knew quite what to do either.  We would visit him almost daily and try to cheer him up, but we felt helpless against this sickness nothing could end. 

 

By the time I was twenty-one, Simeon had been sick for several years.  The sickness had gotten so bad that he was paralyzed almost from the neck down.  He was resigned to live out the rest of his life in his little bed.  We would pray and plead with God to give us back our friend, but nothing seemed to change.  Although I said nothing, I felt as though our prayers never left the room.  I had lost faith that Simeon would ever recover.  

Then we heard about Jesus.  Most people, while interested were pretty skeptical about all the things we heard.  James was interested though.  He was convinced this was the way God was going to heal our friend.  One afternoon John, Reuben, and I were outside Simeon’s house talking.  We had come to visit him, but found him sleeping.  That’s when James came running over the hill towards us.  There was such excitement in his eyes, we wondered what had happened.

James had seen Jesus.  He told us how a blind man had been made to see, and a leper healed.  James’ excitement spread and soon John and Reuben became excited as well at the prospect of seeing Simeon finally healed.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want Simeon to be healed, God knows I did, its just that I really didn’t believe it could happen.  Fortunately, what I thought didn’t matter though.  Within minutes we had Simeon loaded on a stretcher and were carrying him down the hillside to the house were Jesus was.  

If I had not been skeptical before, I was when I saw the huge crowd gathered around the tiny house.  Even if it were true Jesus could heal our friend, how could we ever get Simeon through to him?  So many sick and dying people were waiting outside the house for Jesus to help them.  Even if He was the Son of God, there was no way He could reach all of these people, even given a week. 

 

James was determined though.  He had already thought through the problem.  On the back side of the house the crowd was not as thick.  We reached the steps leading to the roof and carefully carried Simeon to the top.  I couldn’t believe we were doing this.  I tried feebly to stop the guys, but they would have none of it.  This was our only chance to have our friend healed.  For a half an hour we worked on this poor man’s roof.  While my excited friends talked about how miraculous Jesus’ power was, I silently wondered how we were going to pay to fix the man’s roof.  

We broke through.  Though shouts of both anger and surprise were directed toward us, we weren’t going to stop now.  

This better have been worth it, I thought.  

Within several minutes Simeon had been lowered to the side of Jesus.  Christ looked up at us with his penetrating dark eyes.  A smile broke across his face, and He healed my friend.  He healed my friend.  With cries of rejoicing we ran down the steps to meet Simeon at the door.  For the first time in several years he was standing.  For the first time in several years he was smiling. 

 

My mind was elsewhere though.  My lack of faith.  I didn’t believe Jesus could heal my friend.  The doctors had tried everything they knew, and nothing had changed.  We had prayed and pleaded with God for so long, and nothing had changed.  I’d given up.  I’d lost faith.  But Jesus, in an instant, had done the impossible.  He had healed my broken friend.  He had fixed my broken faith.  

Mark 1 - An Impossible Silence

October 19, 2001 12:35 - 2:00

Before I met him my life was marked by silence.  When no one wants to talk to you, you quickly learn to 

talk to no one. When you’re family abandons you, when you never know what it is to have a friend, its 

easy to keep your thoughts inside.  In one day,though, that all changed.  I went from being a man marked 

by silence, to one who finally has something worth talking about. 

I became a leper at a young age, and was subsequently abandoned by my family.  It wasn’t that they didn’t love me, but simply that they didn’t know how to deal with the problem.  So rather than find a way to cope, they left me. You can imagine how interesting it must be to tell others your family moved, and when they ask where, admit you don’t know.  

By the time I was nineteen I had already lost my left hand at the wrist, and several fingers on my right.  But it wasn’t the disease that really hurt me.  It was my sight.  It was seeing families that loved each other.  Seeing people enjoying friendships like those I had almost forgotten.   I became bitter; thankfully it was not at my family or friends, but rather at this disease which had driven them from me.  I came to a point where I was being eaten alive, not just from the leprosy without, but by the bitterness within.

It was at that point I heard about Jesus.  No immediate joy or happiness thrilled my soul when I heard his name, or of what He had done.  I was just curious.  What if?  What if it was true?  What if He could heal?  It was worth a chance.

  

When I saw him, I knew.  There was nothing strange or supernatural about it, I just knew.  I knew He could heal me.  I knew everything would be Ok.  And He did heal me. What was a stump of a left hand one moment was something that had been missing for a year and a half the next.       

But Jesus didn’t just heal the outside.  He healed the inside.  He took all the bitterness, all the filth out of my life and made me a new person.  He changed me.  But then He asked me to do something.  And I suppose I should have obeyed, but even now, looking back I don’t see how I could have.  Jesus asked that I tell no one about what He had done for me.

  

I’m sure He expected that I would at least tell my family.  How could I keep from them the wonderful news of Jesus’ healing of my life?  But if I told my family, why wouldn’t I tell all who could hear.  So many could benefit from the healing power of Jesus in their lives, and yet I was to keep silent.  If I could only tell one message, the message of a man who can take a broken life and make it whole again is certainly the one which must be chosen.  How many people had I seen suffering from sickness and disease?  How many people lived out each day with no hope of ever being cured?   And yet I had found the cure for all sickness, outside and in.  That is a message worth spreading.  That is a message worth living.  That’s something worth talking about.     

Fair Warning ! ! !

Be warned . . . 

I started writing these monologues in the fall of 2001. That feels like a lifetime ago.  I haven't edited them since.  In fact, I haven't even looked at most of them since then.  

Why do I say that?  Well, most of them are probably very poorly written.  I hope I have learned much since I first typed these words.  I hope my craft has improved, but please realize all of these are only first drafts.  They're rough.  Very rough.

I would love to hear your honest criticism.  I'll never improve without it.  Some of my mistakes may be obvious, but feel free to point them out anyway. 

My goal for these pieces is that they might eventually be used in churches and ministries to point people to the person of our Lord Jesus Christ.  I hope they expose angles of Christ's earthly ministry they we may not ever consider.  

I trust they'll at least stir something inside of you to glance into the Gospels and think about the people touched physically, emotionally, and spiritually by our Savior. 

Ken

PS. Also be aware of theological or historical discrepancies.  If my tale doesn't fit with the writing of another gospel, let me know.  I'm grateful for every ounce of help I can get.