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.
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