Recently, in a Bible study I was attending, the passage study for the night was on Mark 2 and Luke 5….Jesus healing the paralytic man. Growing up in a Christian home and schools, how many times have I heard this story? I’m sure I was about three the first time I watched my Sunday School teacher use her flannelgraph set to teach the story to a circle of preschoolers. So many times I’ve heard of the men in the story who tore open the roof to lower their friend down for healing. But a few weeks ago on this particular night, I was blown away by these beautiful passages in scripture. There are so many facets in this story that a person can explore, but in thinking of the arrogant executive, one point in this Biblical encounter stood out to me. 

 As the passages unfold, the gospels of Mark and Luke tell us that Jesus was in a home in Capernaum with the religious leaders of the day—the Pharisees and teachers of the law. They were, no doubt, in opposition to Jesus and were there to hear his latest teachings, hoping to catch Him in some untruth. We read that there was standing room only at the outside doors to this home…people overflowing into the streets–people coming from every direction to hear and get a glimpse of this Jesus that they had heard so much about. Luke writes that the religious teachers were sitting down, which was common for rabbis to do during this time, as this established and demonstrated their authority. But isn’t it interesting that with all the crowds and commotion, they were the ones taking up the space inside the house with their sitting? These were the men of the day who walked about and expressed their power and influence…the true “don't you know who I am”s of the day. 

 I enjoy reading the Bible through my senses, wondering what the scenery in any story looked like, what the smells and sounds were. As the paralytic and his presumably four friends enter the story, I’m envisioning the chaos in Capurnaum. The crowds of spectators, a lot of tip-toe standing and pushing. I’m envisioning these men each carrying a side to the stretcher that was holding their paralyzed friend. Think about what it would feel like to possibly travel with a paralyzed man, walking while balancing his body weight. Fighting the crowds as you maneuver a strecher through the streets, having to stop and put it down to rest your hands, that may have incurred blisters. Pushing through the throngs of people, can you imagine their dread when they saw the blocked entrance to the house? The rude looks and annoyances from the people when they asked to make room for them? But these men didn’t give up. I wonder which one of the friends had the crazy idea to shimmy the stretcher up onto the roof and open it up to let him down? I wonder if some tried stopping them? Did the homeowners come running out in disbelief when they heard the dismantling of their roof and saw the dust falling through the cracks from the inside? And yet, somehow, these determined men went through with their plan and began the process of lowering their friend down into the house. No asking for permission. Just complete tenacity in their intention. 

 This next part is what stood out to me. The religious figures, the men who thought they were “something else”, were in the presence of the Son of Man….the One who truly has the authority over everything…and they couldn’t see it. These common men on the roof knew who Jesus was and they knew what He could do for their friend, and they didn’t stop until they were in His presence. Can you imagine how amazing it was when the sunlight from the opening fell onto Jesus and He looked up and made eye contact with them? What was that moment like? Did the religious leaders hop to their feet, annoyed at this intrusion? Were they wondering who was interrupting their meeting? I am convinced that Jesus stood calmly, looking up at them with compassion and love. He called the paralytic, “friend”, and he saw the faith that all of them were possessing. 

 This faith is actually translated in Hebrew at “Emunah”, but it is much deeper than our common understanding of faith. It’s a persistent faith of determination and it is indicative of a relationship built not only on knowledge and belief but of experience and action. It’s a steadfast faith, it’s confident and it’s tenacious. Jesus saw their Emunah and forgave the man’s sins…because He had the authority to do so. The physical healing was just a symbol of His authority. This type of faith is an excellent encouragement for those who are truly in relationship with Jesus to show the fruit of looking like Him and have Emunah faith…not just with our words but with our actions. 

 The days we are living in are full of carnal power. ego and false senses of importance among many in leadership positions. But when you read the Bible, one can see that there is truly nothing new under the sun. The story I heard of the arrogant executive threatening, “do you know what I could do to you” to a fearful employee, was quickly contrasted in my mind by my humble Jesus. The One who holds the only authority, yet acts in total meekness and with compassion. The One who wants everyone to know who He is. The One who wants everyone to know what He can do for them.

It was the summer of 2009 and I was a young mother of two toddlers.  I had a precious four-year-old girl who was as close to an angel as any parent could have.  She loved to do puzzles, read books, color and sit still.  And I had an adorable 19 month old boy....who kept me on my feet.  I knew he was adorable, with his big blue eyes, little man haircut and Mickey Mouse grin.  But wow. He...drove...me....crazy! 

He had suddenly come to life, this sweet little baby who had been so good.  I thought I had hit the parenting jackpot when my second baby was a good eater and sleeper--just like my first.  I would hear other young mommies complain about how hard it was to be a mother to a fussy baby, and I have to admit, I would think to myself that I must be doing something right and they must...well, you know:)

So, the summer of 2009 I found myself often in tears.  I would cringe when I'd hear the familiar rhythmic sound of a certain toddler's feet jumping up and down in his crib each morning and then again each afternoon, signaling that nap time was over.  I'd find myself handing my boy off to my husband each night when he came home from work.  Not a kiss hello or a "how was your day".  It was usually an extremely irritated mommy trying her best to subdue her screaming boy and a "you deal with him, I can't take it anymore!" handoff exchange.




Late in the summer, we went home one week to visit my family in Virginia.  Roy was out of town and I was "Single-Mommying-It".  I dreaded these times because I was not good at restraining Roy Austin.  Roy could do it, but me?  Nope.  And the times I hated the most was eating out at restaurants.  From the time we would sit down, we'd have 15 to maybe 20 minutes until he was officially done with the idea of sitting in a highchair and nothing would appease him.  So there we sat at a Mexican restaurant....Caroline, my wild boy, me and some of my family.  I was constantly moving napkins and silverware and menus out of his way.  Handing him crayons just to have him throw them.  I wanted to get in on the conversations, but he wasn't letting me.  And then, it happened.  He reached forward, grabbed the bowl of salsa and flung it all over the table.  That was it.  I exploded.  I think those at the table didn't know what to do...or those sitting at tables around us.  I was mad, embarrassed and so done!

Looking back, this story is funny to me now.  Once we got back to my parent's house and put him to bed, I had a good cry with my sweet mom in her laundry room.  My mother---the mother of five girls, who she raised to be little ladies---didn't know what to tell me.  She didn't understand the ways of boys and I remember saying something through my frustrated tears like "it's like something's wrong with him!  He never sits still, he is into everything, he's a mess and he drives me crazy!!" and she replied in her soothing voice, "do you think something COULD be wrong with him?" !!  Later that night, one of my sisters had heard about the state I was in and brought over a stack of parenting books that she thought I might want to look through.  There were various books on rearing children, from one with advice from Amish people, a few by the Facts of Life actress and then Bringing Up Boys  by James Dobson.  I picked that one up and headed to bed.  Little did I know that this book would change my entire view of parenting my little boy.

When I tell this story, I always say that I really am not trying to sound dramatic.  Only God knows my experience that night.  But I truly believe that the Holy Spirit used page four of Dr. Dobson's book that exact July night to hug a tired mommy and to whisper to her that everything was going to be alright. 

"It begins very early.  If a toddler can climb on it, he will jump off it.  He careens out of control toward tables, tubs, pools, steps, trees and streets.  He will eat anything but food and loves to play in the toilet.  He makes "guns" out of cucumbers or toothbrushes and likes digging around in drawers, pill bottles, and Mom's purse.  And just hope he doesn't get his grubby little hands on a tube of lipstick.  A boy harasses grumpy dogs and picks up kitties by their ears.  His mom has to watch him every minute to keep him from killing himself.  He loves to throw rocks, play with fire, and shatter glass.  He also gets great pleasure out of irritating his brothers and sisters, his mother, his teachers and other children." (page 4, Bringing Up Boys).

As I sat in my bed, I literally wept!  He was normal!  He was doing exactly what he was designed to do, by GOD.  I didn't understand what a little boy was.  I had been desperately trying to make him just like his big sister, but in that moment I knew that he was exactly right.  It would be okay and I would be okay.  I was given the overwhelmingly wonderful responsibility for him...even though it seemed unbearable and so foreign to me at times.  I was hand picked by the Creator for just this task.

And oh, how true that paragraph was about my Roy Austin.  Instantly it all made sense.  The time he ate a cigarette butt, or when I found him coughing as he chewed through a Cascade gel-pack, or ate "one, two, thwee....all of dem" Pepto Bismol tablets and I had to call Poison Control---again! The weekly findings of him hanging from the top shelf of our pantry, that eventually made us get a lock for that door--and a lock for the refrigerator.  The many times he would clog the toilets with rolls of toilet paper or special receipts I needed....or the nasty time I caught him--this is gross--dipping toilet paper in the potty (it was unused) and then sucking the water from the paper! He loved to chase our angry chihuahua through the house and then laugh when she'd nip at him.  And because my wise mom taught me to take pictures of things that she promised I would laugh at later, here are some others:

This was where I could always be sure to find him when it was quiet...the bathroom.  Either playing in the toilet or somehow in the sink, turning the water on and off and soap pumped everywhere.

...and this was the face he'd always make when I caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to.  See?  Funny now, but at the time, not so much.

Here he is at one of Roy's birthdays.  All was quiet and I looked over to see him trying to figure out how matches worked.

There's that face again.

This is one of my favorites.  Again...it was quiet and we soon discovered why.  He had taken a spatula to 24 eggs in the refrigerator.  When we asked him why he would do that, his response?  "I had to!"

 Fast forward five plus years and I couldn't be more happier with our sweet boy.  Oh, the joy he brings my heart.  Whether it's seeing his big, toothy, grin in the carpool line, the always 8 kisses he gives me when I drop him off at school in the mornings, his sweet, sincere heart for the Lord and the Bible, his absolute love of life or the fact that he loves to snuggle up with me and have me call him either "Dude" or "Bubs",  I delight in him.  Yes, I know there are some difficult and hard years ahead and right now the "poopy/fart talk" is just about all I can handle, but I'll take it.  He is doing what he was designed to do and so I will do what I was designed to do and bring up my boy.

P.S. Here is a favorite video of our family's that captures the sweet innocence of Caroline, the frustration of Mommy and the adventure and humor of Roy Austin: