A Letter to Jay
Neil Macdonald, 17/3/2002
Anne suffers from recurring depression. She is also a Christian, but she wonders how to make sense of her faith in the light of her continuing illness. She feels that, as a believer, she ought to be delivered from her despair. Her dealings with some of her fellow Christians have left her bruised and disillusioned, and she finds prayer difficult and often meaningless. She also feels that she derives no real practical support from those at her local church, which she now sees as little more than a draughty and inhospitable building. Although she still attends the occasional service, she wonders increasingly why she bothers.
Richard is a gay man in his thirties. He sees the Church as a repressive organisation, and those who associate with it as hostile to his lifestyle, and even a threat to him. He is aware that some Christians would seek to “cure” him: to attempt the reordering of what he regards as his capacity for love. He views the Church as being little more than conservative morality masquerading as religion. Although he is genuinely interested in helping people, and is enthusiastic about holistic methods of healing, he can see no relevance for Jesus in either his life or the lives of his friends.
There are in our society many people just like Anne and Richard, and the tremendous story of the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-45) has a great deal to say to them. And to us, too. It gives some clear indications of what true healing might involve, and it gives guidance to Christians about how they might approach people who may be in need of it.
The first thing to note is that Jesus has relationships of love not only with Lazarus, but also with Martha and Mary, who initially make him aware of their brother’s sickness. The channels are therefore open for God to operate effectively. St Paul reminds us that the “fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things”, he tells us, “there is no law” (Galatians 5:22-23). And neither Anne nor Richard would be against them either. Both are open to being influenced by such a power, and they react well when they meet Christians who are not inclined to use judgement, but will approach them in a relaxed manner that reflects both humanity and understanding.
In fact the love of Jesus for Lazarus is so intense that he weeps at the death of his friend. He is greatly disturbed in Spirit and deeply moved. And the need for that compassion is important for us, too. If hatred, jealousy, or envy is present - or as is more often the case, a failure to forgive - then there is likely to be a serious block on the whole healing process. This is surely why St James calls on his readers to “confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man”, he reminds us, “is powerful and effective.” (James 5:16).
We also need faith that God will actually work in the situation and will do what is best for us, even if the evidence for this takes a little time to emerge. Again, St James is very clear that “the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven” (James 5:15). Faith in such cases is simple trust – it is not about heroics, and Christians who tell people that their failure to make progress is due to lack of it are being arrogant and unhelpful. Understandably, Martha has doubts about God’s power to transform the situation for her dead brother, but Jesus is gentle with her. “Did I not tell you”, he asks “that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?"
The other big obstacle to God’s healing power is our desire to control the outcome. There is evidence that the Church itself lost much of its healing ministry in the wake of the Edict of Milan, in 313AD, when it ceased to be persecuted and became more preoccupied with its hierarchies and the need to regulate through canon law. It was to regain that ministry in the twentieth century, especially in places like Latin America, where poverty and powerlessness were commonplace, and Christians were – like Jesus himself – operating in hostile territory, liable to be beaten - if not stoned – to death. We always need to some extent to be living on the edge, if our ministry is to be relevant. And as the Gospel reminds us, even Jesus is powerless without the direct intervention of God.
We also need to be careful not to impose a personal agenda. There was a time when Christians, along with the rest of society, were prepared to designate as mentally ill – and commit to asylums - people who were perceived as in “moral danger”, or likely to be. Such people were often no more than high-spirited, unconventional, or questioning. Attitudes like this are still around, as both Anne and Richard would testify. Far too many Christians see healing in very worldly terms. They expect physical or psychological results – and if these do not occur, they are soon disheartened. In such a view the healing ministry must – like Jesus’s own ministry here on Earth – be adjudged a failure. For healing in this world is only ever partial, and like Lazarus and his sisters, all of us must face our own individual deaths. There really is a need to put aside our own prejudices, and let God do the work, and we may often perceive his glory in unusual ways.
So what is Christian healing really about? Once again, it is in the raising of Lazarus that we are given a clue to its real significance. It is a process through which we experience the power of the Spirit to lift us out of our despair, and to see far beyond the plight we are in. We can perceive that through the restored and enhanced human relationships of those who love, support and pray for us, how God, “by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.” (Philippians 3:21). It is that feeling of growing into the loving power of the Spirit – regardless of whether there is any physical or psychological improvement, either at the time or in the future – that characterises the experience.
This Gospel passage is also a powerful reminder of the message of the Incarnation – God became man and lived among his people. He is still there with us, both in our grief, and in our joy, as when Jesus lifts his eyes to heaven to give thanks to God for what he knows He is about to do. It is in the friendship of Jesus for those who are willing to accompany him on his ongoing journey through this world that we may find the catalyst for the power of healing in our lives, and in the lives of those around us. And that experience is not primarily about “curing” people, but about raising them up and empowering them so that they may also see the beauty of the whole of creation. It is the ongoing work of his Spirit, and in such encounters we are given more than a hint that the love we experience and wish to convey is not limited in its expression to the life of this world alone.
