25-Paralytic-A

And We Thought We Knew You:
Soul Journey with the Real Jesus

Paralytic
SHACKLED

Autumn AD 25
Capernaum, Galilee

�� Barnabus has been under a lot of pressure lately.� He is in import-export.� Barnabus is a middleman, an agent for grain, oil, flax, balm, perfume, lumber, gold, you name it.

�� Barnabus has a quota to meet.� He's set the quota for himself.� He's still young with a conscientious wife, a couple of children and a small house.� But he's ambitious.� He's intending to dress his wife in the finest of purple and blue and scarlet, accented with diamonds and rubies. He's intending to have many more children.� He's intending to get a larger house - one in which he can entertain lavishly.

�� Dawn breaks and Barnabus is already out and headed for his rendezvous point with the importer from Egypt.� After that, he must inspect the most recent shipment of ivory from Cush.� Then across town for a meeting with copper merchants.

�� Dark has settled in and Barnabus arrives back home.� Dinner has been ready since dusk.� His wife gathers their young children� and they eat.� He listen to stories of the day without really listening.� He is through eating long before the others and leaves the table.

�� What's his sales pitch going to be for those two exporters he's got to see tonight?� Gotta get a second breath.� Just one drink of pomegranate wine to calm him, but not so much that it takes away the mental edge for the sale.�

�� Early evening and he's back out the door.� Back down the street.� Back across town.�

�� He is proud of his white mule.� In times past, only royalty could afford white mules.� They were, as far as anyone was concerned, as strong as the war horses, and as sturdy as camels.� Barnabus felt it was important to have this white mule so he could impress those with whom he did business.� Success ~ or at least the impression of it ~ breeds more success. [1]

�� Late evening.� He's still got one more appointment before he can return home.� Back on his sleek white mule.� Back on the street.� Take another nip of his pomegranate wine, but not too much.�

�� Over to the inn.� Find his supplier, talk quality and values and numbers.� Get the deal worked out so he can move on to another deal.� One more nip of his precious wine to calm him down.� Back on his mule and home.

�� "Honey, I'm home!� Honey?� You in bed?"

�� Sit a minute.� Toy with figs in the bowl next to him.� Stare at the fabric in his robe now hung carefully nearby.� Do something to relax before retiring.� Take one last nip for a good night's sleep.� Upstairs to the bedroom.� Fall into bed.� Toss.� Turn.� Think about tomorrow's calls.� No, don't.� Try to get some zeeees.�

�� The sun sends flickering but sharp red shoots of daylight to the horizon.� It's morning.� Get up.� Talk to his wife a few minutes. �Try to work in some quality time.� Have breakfast.� Make sure he has all the business scrolls he needs for the day.�

�� The sun now full and bright on the horizon.� Refill his wine skin to take with him on the road.� Back out the door.� Back out onto the street.� Try to read a schedule he's written on a tablet and hung on his saddle.� Over to the lake.�

�� Try to convince the tax men to go easy on the importers.

�� A merchant interrupts.� "You sold me inferior pottery.� I want my money back."� He promises to deal with it later in the day.

�� Lunch time.� Stop by the market for a small loaf of bread and some different wine to wash it down with.� Talk business while he's there.� Can't stop.� Gotta keep working.� One of the other merchants wants to re-order.� Gotta keep up.

�� One more nip.� Maintain a positive attitude.

�� "You quoted me twice as much as any other agent.� You're out of your mind!� I wouldn't do business with you if you were the last agent on earth!"

�� Maybe another nip.� Gotta stay calm.��

�� A messenger catches up with him and hands him a message.� His exporter from Corinth has just come in from Tyre and wants a meeting with him tomorrow.

�� "What is it this time?"�

�� Mid-afternoon.� Back out on the street.� Read his agenda hanging on the saddle.� One more nip.� Whip the mule into a gallop.� He's late.� He cannot miss his meeting with the camel trader on the other side of the lake.

�� Late afternoon.� There is a funeral procession.� He rushes around it in a gallop.� Merchants taking up too much room on the narrow road.� Gallop past them.� Pass them all.� Gotta get ahead of the pack.� Don't have time to slow down.� Keep moving.� Keep going.� Speed up just a little.� The sun's going lower and lower.� Beat the sun.� Make the appointment.� Gallop faster. �And faster.� And faster.

�� Out of nowhere appears a cart pulled by a single donkey.� Dead ahead.� Stopped in the middle of the road.� Out of nowhere appears a mother and father and two children.� Out of nowhere appears a nightmare.� A cruel and freakish nightmare.�

�� Neighing.� Sliding.� Careening.�

�� Wheels trying to cling to reality.� Reins trying to evade the impossible.� Screams trying to ward off the unthinkable.��

�� Banging....�

�� Rolling....�

�� Smashing.

�� This isn't happening.� Barnabus is still rushing down the road.� Barnabus is nearly to his appointment.� Those people are nearly to theirs.

�� Fracturing....

�� Splintering....

�� Demolishing.

�� A strange face peers at Barnabus from above.� "Are you all right?"� The stranger reaches down to touch Barnabus and reassure him.� Barnabus can barely see him.� Barnabus cannot feel the man's touch at all.... [2]

Gadara, Galilee

�� He opens his eyes, and now it's Naomi looking at him.� The lights are brighter now.�

�� The inevitable question.� "Where am I?"

�� The dreaded answer.� "You're at an inn at Gadara."

�� "There was an accident...." he recalls.� "Those people...."

�� "Shhhh.� Just rest."

�� Barnabus's head hurts.� He reaches up to touch his head.� But it does not happen.� He has not reached up.� He is still dreaming.� He reaches up again.� Still nothing.

�� "Naomi?"

�� "Yes, Sweetheart?"

�� Barnabus does not know what to ask.� Finally, "Am I dreaming?� Are you really there?"

�� "You're not dreaming," she grins amidst her own tears of turmoil.� "You're really here.� In the flesh."

�� "But I don't feel like I am in the flesh.� Is my flesh gone?"

�� Puzzled, she replies he's all there.

�� "But I don't feel like I'm in my body.� I thought when things like this happened, you float up and see yourself.� But I don't see myself."

�� "Sweetheart, what kind of things?"

�� "I'm not in my body.� Is my body here?"

�� "You're in your body, Barnabus."�

�� Confusion and fear creep into both of them.� A dark enigma.� A question mark that swirls through their minds and makes them dizzy.� Especially Barnabus.� Except he cannot feel his own dizziness.�

�� "I'll be right back, Barnabus," Naomi responds.� Grinning, she adds, "Don't go anywhere."� She is not sure she should have said that.� She disappears out in the courtyard.

�� Now Barnabus feels alone.� So alone.� But he hasn't experienced aloneness yet.�

�� "God, are you still there?" he asks himself.

�� The innkeeper's wife walks in.� "You're in good hands.� We've taken care of accident victims like you a lot.� We've sent for a doctor.� He will be in to see you soon.� How do you feel, sir?"

�� Barnabus replies hesitatingly.� "I'm not sure....� I dunno...."

�� "Well, you just relax.� The doctor will be here in a jiffy."� She smiles caringly and leaves.

�� Barnabus is becoming agitated.� His eyes are trying to focus on what is happening, or not happening.� He is fighting back the tears.� Men don't cry.� Men hide their feelings.� Hide their feelings?� Has he hidden his feelings too much?� Where are his feelings?�

�� "Where are my feelings?" he cries aloud desperately.� "Where are my feelings?"�

�� The doctor walks in.� He examines Barnabus, but not very well.� He only looks.� He does not really examine.� A good doctor would probe and poke and press to see where it hurts.� A real doctor would lift up bandages to see if wounds were taken care of properly.�

�� "How are my scratches?" Barnabus asks, trying to deny he actually has what anyone would classify as wounds.� He is starting with the easy part.

�� "Oh, they're fine."� But the doctor is not smiling.

�� "Have you felt any part of my examining you?"

�� "There wasn't anything to feel, doctor."

�� "How about this?"

�� "What this?� There wasn't anything."

�� "And this?"

�� "Come on.� Get serious."

�� "Or this?"

�� Barnabus laughs ever so slightly in a dark, negative sort of way.� Way down deep in this throat, in his soul, possibly in his body.� But what about his body?

�� Deep down, Barnabus knows.� He did die in that accident.� His body died.

�� "Barnabus, your paralysis will be indefinite.� As far as we have been able to determine, you will have to adjust to a new kind of life.� We're still trying, still experimenting.� But we cannot give you much hope.� Pray to God for a miracle."

�� "Oh God!" Barnabus screams inside.�

�� His shout zooms across the courtyard outside, down the street, across the countryside, and to the ears of Jesus.� Jesus is teaching some people.� He stops abruptly for a moment.� People around him wonder if he has lost his train of thought.� He is listening to Barnabus.� He makes a mental note to remember Barnabus and be ready for him.� But Barnabus will have to come to him.

�� "Are you saying, doc, that I'll never....� I'll never...."

�� "As far as we can tell, you'll never have use of your legs or arms again."

�� Barnabus has been at the inn nearly a week now.� He's been trying to get up the nerve to ask another question.� It is as terrible as the first question.� What can be as terrible as that?�

�� He asks Naomi how everyone is in Capernaum.� All the ones she knows about are fine.� Well, how about Bethsaida and Gergasa?� All fine as far as she knows.� She is not volunteering anything more.� But she has an odd expression.� She is hiding something.� What is it?� He must find out.� Though he really does not want to find out.�

�� The next day Barnabus is brought out into the courtyard to enjoy the sun.� Travelers come and go.� He has insisted that his good robe be placed over him so people don't feel sorry for him, but rather think he is just resting.� Of course Naomi had to bring one from home; the one he was wearing in the accident was torn beyond use.

�� Over and over he casually asks visitors how people are in their towns.� Has anything happened of interest there lately?� Not really.� Life as usual.� There may be a drought this year, but that's about all.

�� One evening an entire family comes to the inn.� The children play around him out in the courtyard.� He is trying to sleep.� A ball accidently lands on his legs.

�� "Hey, mister.� Would you throw us our ball?"

�� Barnabus awakens.� They repeat their request.� "Hey, mister.� Would you throw us our ball?"

�� He becomes confused.� Angry.� He says nothing.� The oldest child walks up to him and bends over.� He picks up the ball.� "Why didn't you throw the ball back to us?"

�� "Well, Son, I guess it's because I can't."

�� "What do you mean, you can't?� Everyone can throw a ball."

�� "Well, I guess I'm an exception.� I've spent my life trying to be an exception.� So I guess that's what I am.� I can't lift my arms to throw anything."

�� "Were you born that way?"

�� "No, I was in a terrible accident."

�� "What happened?"

�� "I was making my mule go too fast for road conditions and...."

�� "I heard about that accident kind of like that once.� It killed everybody in the family.� They were traveling from Amatha to Tiberius, I think."

�� Barnabus stares up into a barren sky.� A beautiful blue to others, but full of nothingness to him.� He does not want to hear more.

�� "My dad says their parents ought to go after the guy on that white mule and do to him what he did to that family."� Barnabus says nothing.� "Mister, what were you riding in your accident?"

�� "Take me inside, someone!� Take me inside!� Now"

�� Barnabus feels like he's been thrust into the bowels of hell.� Hell where he belongs.� Hell where, if you feel anything at all, it's torment and agony.� Hell where Satan laughs heinously.� Hell where only bad people go.

�� A killer?� I'm no killer.� I don't even go hunting.� I encourage the raising of all kinds of animals.� I'm no killer.� I'M NO KILLER!!!!�

�� He shouts to his soul.� And to God.� A piercing, raging wail.� A thunderous yet deafening silent scream.�

�� It swirls around and out his room.� Once more it rushes down the road and to the ears of Jesus.� Once again, Jesus stops what he's saying.� Once again, Jesus hears Barnabus.� Oh, yes.� The guilt.� We'll take care of that too.� When Barnabus's ready.� When Barnabus comes to Jesus.

�� Barnabus throws up.� The whole thing is repulsive and nauseating.� Get rid of the atrocity.� Get rid of the guilt.� Get rid of the memory.� George rings for a nurse, for he knows Barnabus could drown in his own vomit ~ his own guilt.� She comes running.� Barnabus continues to wretch.� On how he hates himself.�

�� Taking Barnabus to court for the murders of four people is moot.� Take his import-export license from him?� He'll never trade again anyway.� Put him in prison?� He's become a prisoner in his own body.� He's received his sentencing.� A living death. [3]

Capernaum, Galilee

�� The day arrives when Barnabus is taken home.� The home he walked out of.� The home he'll never walk through again.� To the children he played with.� The children he'll never play with again.� A home once full of excitement and laughter.� Now a home full of paralyzing doom.

�� He lies there day after day.� Hour after hour.� Moment after moment.� Nothing but a blank ceiling to look at.� Sometimes Naomi props him up in his new hospital bed so he can look around, but that just reminds him of his prison.

�� Oh my God, where are you?

�� Staring.� Helpless, impotent staring.� Powerless.� Abandoned by hope.� Unending ticking.� Defenseless against time.�

�� Stripped of all dignity, he has two bags attached to him to hold his body waste.� Gradually his robust legs that used to take him wherever he wanted begin to shrivel.� Gradually his muscular arms that used to lift and throw and carry just about anything he wanted begin to waste away.

�� Oh God, why?� Why me?

�� Family members come and go out of his room, his outer prison.�

�� Barnabus's children show him the pictures they drew, and give him hugs.� He can't feel the hugs.� He has to watch them to know when they're done hugging so he can thank them.� Thank them like a beggar thrown a leftover.

�� "Hey, Barnabus, ole boy!"

�� It's a friend.� No, friends.� Four guys he's been passing extra business to that he's too busy to handle.� Four guys he's met for drinks after work once a week.� Four guys who got married about the same time that he did.�

�� Four faithful, loyal friends.� They don't have to do this, you know.� Barnabus knows no one wants to be reminded of their own vulnerability by being around deteriorating failure.�

�� But strangely, like no one in the world, they can cheer him up.� They don't really and truly understand what he's going through, but they supply him with mettle.�

�� He tries to respond accordingly.� He doesn't want them to give up on him and quit stopping by.� He couldn't bear losing his all his friends.� He has so few left.� Oh how invaluable those few treasures are.

�� "Hey, guys!� Come on in!� Today, you are looking at a man of action!"

�� "Great!� And what's that, slugger?"

�� "I built a house last week."

�� "Well, you've already got a house.� Where did you build this one?"� They play along.� The game is good.� It's good for them all.

�� "On the highest hill in town."

�� There is no new house on the highest hill in town, of course.� But imagining it has kept his mind moving and performing.� One board at a time.� One nail at a time.� He'd heard prisoners do this sort of thing to pass the intolerable time.

�� Barnabus continues with his narrative.� One step at a time.� They all listen excitedly.

�� "That's great, Barnabus.� Hey, how about a game of dice?"

�� "I can take you on and run you into the wall before you know what happens!" Barnabus replies.

�� They set it up.� Barnabus instructs one of the guys how high to throw the die.� Eli, his opponent, instructs the other guy how high to throw his die, keeping everything on the same level.�

�� "Ah, you ruthless fiend!� How'd you do that?"

�� "What a rebound!"

�� The game's over.� A stellar performance by both sides.�

�� Now they get serious.� They always get a little serious before they leave.� Though not too much so.� Just enough to let Barnabus know they care.� Know they're all still friends.� Know that they'll stick together as they always did no matter what.

�� "So, how are things really?"

�� "What can I say?� It's the same all the time.� I've got Naomi reading a book to me.� Always wanted to read our kings' Chronicles.� There's a bunch more I want to get around to too."

�� His eyes look a little sad.� Their eyes reflect his feelings, for how could he not be sad?

�� "We're pulling for you, Barnabus.� We're the four gladiators and our fearless leader."

�� Barnabus is confused.

�� "You're our fearless leader, Barnabus.� You have so much courage."

�� "I have no choice.� I can either live or die.� I have no choice."

�� "But you've got heart.� You've chosen to be as positive as possible in the middle of the impossible.� Your courage is talked about by everyone."

�� "Everyone?"

�� "You better believe it, Barnabus!� You are admired by so many people.� You're becoming a hero."

�� Barnabus's confused, but accepts their words of encouragement with undying gratitude.� "Thanks, guys."

�� "Gotta go now, Barnabus.� We're praying for you."

�� They leave.� Barnabus lies still now, reflecting their words.� And the last part too.� They're praying for him.� But where's God?� Barnabus doesn't see him or feel him.�

�� But those people he killed.� Could he get the guys to take him out to the cemetery?� Could he get them to help him ask their forgiveness?� He can't do it with his wife.� He needs a different kind of strength for this trip.� This inevitable trip.� He cries.� They all cry.� Oh the guilt.� How can he keep bearing the guilt?

Spring AD 27

�� More weeks and months.� A year.� Two.� Barnabus has learned a few tricks to help him live a little more independently.� He can still use his tongue and nose and teeth and lips.� For buttons and bells, sticks, and kisses.� Barnabus is trying.� Barnabus has grit.� But still he asks the question.

�� Oh God.� Why?� Where are you, God?� The prison.� The guilt.� Endless.� Eternal.

�� Lately Barnabus has been hearing about a guy who says the new kingdom of God is near and that the people will be free at last.� Despite threats by the Temple of excommunication.� Despite threats by political leaders of imprisonment or execution.� Barnabus relates to those threats.� Excommunicated from life.� Imprisoned in paralysis.

�� He asks his wife to keep him up to date on the news she hears that about Jesus who lives over in Nazareth.�

�� "Honey!� You'll never believe this!� Someone told me he actually performed a miracle!� He turned water into wine!" [4]

�� That interests Barnabus, but mostly to give him something new to think about.�

�� "Honey, you'll never believe what happened?� That Jesus has healed two young boys at the brink of death.� He can do the impossible!" [5]

�� "He heals?" Barnabus asks aloud after she leaves.� "He actually heals?� People wouldn't say that if it weren't true."�

�� The thought echoes in his mind day after day.� He continues to ask for more information on Jesus.� More details.� Where does he live?� How many people has he healed so far?� Does he charge?� Is he a hoax?�

�� "Sweetheart!" Naomi calls out one evening.� "You'll never guess what's happening right here in Capernaum.� He's healing people right now.� And he's going to be available to heal even more people.� He's moved to Capernaum!"

�� He's doing it at the home of Peter, Jonah's son, and one of the close associates of Jesus.� People are lined up.� With crutches, on mats, with bandages everywhere possible.� Everyone coming out running and waving their arms in ecstatic joy.� "I'm healed!� I'm healed!� Jesus healed me!" [6]

�� The words rush deliriously into Barnabus's mind and get stuck in his memory.� "Jesus healed me!� Jesus healed me!"

�� He dreams it.� He eats it.� He lives it in his mind.� Over and over.� He's making his way to Jesus, and Jesus is healing him too.� It consumes Barnabus.

�� Barnabus sends for his four buddies.� They come over a few days later.

�� "What's up?" they kid as they come through the door of his room.

�� Barnabus is grinning ear to ear.�

�� "I'm healed.� I'm healed."

�� They frown.� "What are you talking about, man?"� Still they try to smile with their perpetual positive attitude.

�� "I'm the same as healed."

�� "What do you mean?� You're regaining your feeling?"

�� "Jesus.� He's going to heal me."

�� They become thoroughly serious.� Everyone has heard about Jesus.� Everyone has been talking about him.� He actually healed people of all kinds of things you just can't fake - instantly.

�� "Take me to him.� Take me to Jesus."

�� "Sure, guy.� Anything you want.� But it'll take some time.� He may not even be in town right now.� Don't worry, pal.� We'll find him.� Maybe we can bring him here to you."

�� "No, I've got to go to him.� Find a way.� You can do it."

�� A few days later one of Barnabus's friends stops by.

�� "Good news and bad news."

�� "Spill it," Barnabus responds, a little agitated at his putting him off like this.

�� "We found out where he lives, but he's leaving tomorrow on a lecture tour.� He's going all over Galilee.� It'll take him months."

�� Barnabus almost curses, but doesn't.�

�� "Get his itinerary.� We'll follow him."� As soon as Barnabus says it, he knows he's asking the impossible.� How can he ask his friends to chase all over Galilee after Jesus?� Besides, they don't know how to take care of him.�

�� There is no reply to his statement.� So he concludes the conversation.� "We'll see him when he gets back then."

�� Can he take this any longer?� He knows he can, for he knows he has to.

�� He continues to dream.� And stare at the barren ceiling.� And cry out of self-pity sometimes, then get disgusted with himself.�

�� He still weeps for those he killed.� How can he get rid of the nightmare?� Even Jesus can't do that.� He can heal the body.� But he can't heal what happened.� Jesus can't make those people come back to life.� Jesus can't do away with Barnabus's ghastly guilt.� No one can do that.

Winter AD 27

�� "Barnabus, he's back!� Jesus is back home!� He's at the same house he stayed in before!� I'll call the other guys.� We'll take off work this afternoon and get you over there.� Barnabus, this is it!"� Just as quickly he is gone.

�� "Who came by, dear?"� Naomi calls from an upstairs room.

�� "Come here, sweetheart."� His voice is trembling.� But he's smiling too.� She goes to him and takes his hand, even though he can't feel it.

�� "Get me ready."�

�� Then, it is like the words send a surge of power through his spirit that sets his whole being on fire.� "Get me ready!" he shouts.� "I'm about the be healed!� Healed!� Healed, Naomi!"

�� She knows what it is all about.� She embraces her husband.� Her tears fall on his face.� Their mutual pain drifts to another house in town and falls on the spirit of Jesus.� Jesus is waiting for Barnabus.� Come on, Barnabus.� You can do it.� Come to Jesus!

�� Moments later, they arrive at the house.� But it is overflowing with people. [7]

�� "It's impossible.� He's surrounded by people.� We'll have to come back another time."

�� "Oh, no you don't!� You're going to figure something out.� You're going to call into the house and interrupt his talk.� You're going to get Jesus out here to me."

�� "Can't do that, Barnabus."

�� "Then you'll get me in to him." The old Barnabus is back ~ the one who conquers all.

�� "How?� It's impossible."

�� Inside the house, Jesus is alternately teaching and healing people.� Then he hesitates just like the times before.� He grins.� Barnabus is nearby.� Barnabus will make it.� Barnabus is going to be fine.

�� "Set me down," Barnabus insists.� "I need to think."

�

�� His four friends comply.� They set him down as near to the front door as they can.� Barnabus looks into the sky.� He scans the clouds.� He scrutinizes the heads of people listening and watching and probably wanting to be healed too.� Still his eyes keep moving.� Searching.� Probing.� Exploring. [8]

�� Then he spots it.�

�� "The roof!"

�� "What?"

�� "The roof!� Nobody's up there.� That's a lot closer than where we are now.� There must be a hundred people here."

�� "And how do you propose that, wise guy?" his friends ask wishing they hadn't, afraid he'd have an answer.

�� "Ropes.� We're close to the seashore.� Run down there and get ropes from some of the boats. Steal them if you have to."

�� They run down to the seashore nearby and are able to buy some ropes off one of the few fishermen still down there.� They report to Barnabus who's obviously in charge now.

�� But no ladder.�

�� "Look around!� Think!� There's got to be a ladder somewhere nearby."

�� They rush up and down the street.� The courtyard gate to one of the houses is open.� Inside they spot a ladder.� They have just enough money left to buy it, and provide a little profit to the hesitant householder.

�� Back to Barnabus.� Back to a miracle in the making.� Back to wonder.

�� "One healing, coming right up!" they announce to him.� Then they pick him up and ease closer to the outside wall of the house.� "Excuse us!� Emergency coming through!"

�� Now at the bottom of the wall, they set up the ladder, then return to get Barnabus on his cot.� They set him down at the bottom of the ladder, attach four ropes to it, then climb up to the roof.

��

�� Naomi supports Barnabus as far as she can while the men pull up the cot.� Slowly.� Closer to Barnabus's healing.�

�� Barnabus's heart is beating out of his chest.� He cannot feel it, but he knows it is.� Barnabus and his friends know he's about to be healed.� What Barnabus doesn't know is that the healing will be much more than he knows, much more than he ever dreamed. [9]

�� Half way up, one of the guys shouts down.� "Barnabus, you've been gaining weight.� You're made of steel."

�� "You better believe it!" he shouts back. He does not remember the last time he genuinely laughed.

�� "All right.� You're here.� What now?"

�� "While you were gone, Naomi spotted a carpenter in the crowd.� She 'borrowed,' well, look under my cover."

�� They're not believing it.� They're laughing.� An axe, two hammers, a pry bar, and a saw.�

�� "We're going through the roof!"

�� The four men get to work.�

�� From inside below, the pounding can be heard.� Peter runs up to the second floor of his house.� By the time he arrives, there is a small hole in the roof. [10]

�� "He wants healed.� He's our friend.� Please help us get to Jesus so our friend can be healed."

�� Peter's astounded at their audacity.� Peter likes that.� He knows there's no other way to Jesus.� Peter looks around, then pulls a table over under the small hole.� He runs downstairs to find a hammer and anchor and returns to the surprise guests on the roof.� Using the tools he has found and the muscles that come with his trade, he attacks the roof from the inside.

�� Shortly, Andrew appears.� "What's going on up here?"�

�� "Gotta get this man healed, Andrew.� Help us out."

�� And Jesus?� He's getting really excited.� Excited for Barnabus.� Now, that's faith!� He keeps talking and healing, and occasionally he looks up toward the ceiling.� The others in the house do the same, but they keep listening, because Jesus keeps talking.

�� Andrew starts pulling on the lathe from the inside while the four strangers remove the tiles on their side.� In record time there is a hole in the roof large enough to lower Barnabus through.� Down the stairs.� Down, down, humbly, to Jesus. [11]

�� "Hello Son."� Jesus has been expecting Barnabus.� Somehow Barnabus knows it. He grows somber.

�� It is not like Barnabus expected.� Jesus just stands there and stares at him.� He's waiting for something. There are some things Barnabus needs to take care of first. Can he reach in that far? Jesus waits still.

�� Then it comes over him. Barnabus is deluged with his own tears.� He hadn't planned it this way.� He's never cried in front of other people before.� "Those people," he sobs.� "I didn't mean it.� I didn't mean to kill them."� There.� He has said it.� For the first time aloud, he has said it.

�� Tears stream across his reddening face.� Those relentless, brutal tears.� Tears of release.� Right there in front of everyone.� His private tears.� His private guilt.�

�� "Must God punish me with a living death?� Please, Jesus.� Help me.� Heal me."

�� Jesus looks down at Barnabus.� He's reading Barnabus' heart.� His spirit is fusing with Barnabus' spirit.� Oh the agony Barnabus is bearing.� Wrenching agony.� Paralyzing agony.� Oh Barnabus.� You don't have to keep bearing this burden.�

�� Jesus must deal with his paralyzed spirit first.

�� "Son."� Barnabus looks up at a man maybe five years older than him.� Yet he's calling him son.�

�� "Son, you needn't be despondent anymore.� I forgive you.� Your sins are forgiven." [12]

�� Still merged in heart, Barnabus does not know how to release the feelings of guilt.� Jesus is helping him.� Jesus is smiling.� It's okay.� Jesus is the author of life.� They live on, Barnabus.� Those people live on!

�� "Just what is going on here?"� The man whispers to his cohort, promulgating with righteous indignation.� "He can't just tell someone their sins are forgiven!" he continues in disgust.� "He's gone too far!"

�� He is one of the Scripture scholars who's come to hear what Jesus is telling all those people.

�� "That's impious blasphemy!" he continues, in a half whisper, half announcement.� "That's out and out sacrilege!"

�� His pious nose gets bent out of shape.� "Who besides God can forgive sins?� No one!" [13]

�� Jesus is not backing down.� He is advancing on the enemy.�

�� "I am now going to prove to you that I, the Son of Mankind, have power to forgive sins on earth!"

�� Jesus looks down at Barnabus, the center of attention, but in some ways alone in the room with Jesus.� "Okay now, son, go ahead and get up!" [14]

�� The people gasp, but remain silent.� Watching.� Waiting.� Will Jesus be able to pull it off once more?

�� Jesus touches Barnabus's hand.� Barnabus can feel it.� Barnabus can feel!�

�� "Oh, yes!" he shouts.� "I will!� I will!"�

�� Barnabus looks down at his hand and wills it to move.� His hand obeys.� He raises himself on one elbow.� He lifts the other hand to touch his cover.� He can feel his cover!� He throws his cover off, and for the first time in two years he can feel his feet.� His feet in turn slide over and his feet feel the floor.� He looks up at Jesus.� He's in a sitting position.� He puts his hands behind him and gives a shove.� His knees strengthen, his atrophied muscles fill out, and Barnabus stands up right.

�� His soul at last can feel again.� His body at last can feel again.� He looks in Jesus' eyes.� Jesus' eyes mix together encouragement and courage.�

�� "Look everyone!" Barnabus tells his closest friends.� "Jesus can heal!� And he forgave me!"� For the first time in most of his twenty-five years, Barnabus can feel ~ really feel.

�� Barnabus climbs the stairs, makes his way up onto the roof from the table.� He stands beneath the roughly-hewn hole with sunlight streaming into the formerly dark room.� And he shouts to the whole world.

�� "I'm healed!� I'm healed!� And Jesus forgave me!� I'm free!� All of me!� I'm free at last!� I'm free!" [15]

LIFE APPLICATION

1.�� Think about your life right now.� Are you putting too much value on accumulating things?� Are you spending too much time in the pursuit of things?� In what way will you change your priorities?

2.�� Did you ever get angry at God for allowing something bad to happen to you that was really a result of your own free will which God gives everyone?� Instead of blaming God, will you pray and ask God to forgive you for your self-destructive behavior?� What will you do to try not to repeat such actions?

3.�� Did you ever know someone or know of someone who lost health or wealth or anything else important, yet that person inspired others who had lost nothing?� Think of something important that you have lost.� In what way can you use your experience to give courage to others?

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