Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

They missed it!  They totally missed their miracle! The people of Nazareth had cajoled, whined, demanded that Jesus perform a miracle. It was His duty, right? He’d just read from the Prophet Isaiah saying God would send a Savior to release captives, heal the sick, and overthrow oppression. Jesus sat there, read that prophecy, and calmly stated it had been fulfilled. The obvious indication being He was that Savior. But they wanted proof. They wanted their share of the miraculous. A healing or two. They deserved it, right? 

Jesus was a homegrown boy, a good one. He was raised in their town. His family still lived there. They did business with Joseph. If this kid had turned out to be their Savior, shouldn’t they get the most benefit? He’d already done miracles in other places. Yet here He was, sitting among them, claiming to be the promised Savior, but refusing to do a miracle to prove it. And He insulted them in the process, claiming they wouldn’t accept Him in His hometown. Seriously? 

It didn’t sit right. Angrily, they jump up and rush at Him. He’d give them their miracle or jump off a cliff. They press forward. Jesus backs up. They push closer. The edge of the cliff looms behind Him. Blinded by anger at the alleged insult and their own desire to see proof of His claims, they keep pushing. Their minds are fixed on getting their miracle. They have Jesus cornered now. He’ll have to give in. But wait. Where did He go? Did He fall over the edge? No. He’s not there. He’s not anywhere! In the haze of their anger, the single-mindedness to have their demands met, they missed the very miracle they were so desirous to see. Jesus miraculously passed through the crowd and walked away. No one saw Him go. No one felt Him brush their arm as He passed. They didn’t even realize He was gone until it was done. They missed their miracle because they were looking only for the miracle they wanted, the big flashy one. In their narrow-mindedness, they missed the mundane miracle they got. (Luke 4:14-30)  

In righteous indignation, I want to exclaim over the ridiculousness of these people. What were they thinking? Did their selfish hearts imagine Jesus would just walk through town and fix everything with a magical wave of His hand?  Were they expecting the heavens to open, wealth to rain down, illness to evaporate, and everything to be flowers and sunshine forever after?  I scoff at the silliness. But my scoff turns to a discomfort-covering cough as I am forced to acknowledge I’ve been in the exact same space.

Earlier this year, my daughter was enduring some issues at school. Like you, I have a no-tolerance policy for any type of bullying, false accusations, or mistreatment of my child. We were trying to fix the problem. We talked with the counselor and principal. They tried. Things weren’t looking good. When Spring break rolled around we were seated firmly in the front seat of the struggle bus. I was exhausted trying to think of a way to make it through the last nine weeks of school. It was going to be a long ride. We needed a miracle. I had a dozen ideas for how that miracle could look. I’d prayed a hundred prayers. Nothing seemed to happen. 

When we got back from Spring Break, our state locked down in COVID-19 quarantine. I hated it. It was horrible. I could barely pray a prayer that wasn’t angry. My kids were in limbo waiting to see if school would start again. We were all in limbo waiting to see if life would start again. Somehow, through the fog of my angst and irritation, I realized my daughter had effectively been removed from the issue at school. A positive in a world of negatives, for certain. And when the news finally came that school was canceled for the remainder of the year, the scales fell off my eyes and I saw the miracle that was staring me in the face all along. That annoying, frustrating, nearly unbearable quarantine was my miracle. 

I certainly didn’t expect a respiratory virus and global quarantine to be the miraculous answer to my desperate prayers. I didn’t expect my child’s rescue to come on the wings of a canceled school year. My miracle looked nothing like I expected it to.  It wasn’t as lovely or peaceful as I imagined. In fact, I probably would have missed the miracle, called it coincidence, if I hadn’t read the above account in the book of Luke just a few months before. It spoke to me then and continues to speak to me now. It tells me that I miss seeing the miraculous I long to see, not because it doesn’t happen, but because my idea of the miraculous is too narrow, too human. 

Yours might be too. We get bogged down with the crazy notion that miracles are all big, ostentatious moments drawing crowds and attention. We think miracles are only the life-changing moments of death sentence diseases healed, insurmountable bills paid, or lives in a horrific car crash saved. We expect miracles to be so large, so loud, so influential that we miss the small, everyday miracles. The ones that happen with no fanfare, no press, no audience. We dub them coincidences. We call them serendipitous. We fail to look at them and say, “That’s miraculous!” We miss miracles because our idea of the miraculous is so limited.  

So was Naaman’s. He nearly missed his miracle too. We wonder how. Stricken with an incurable disease, why would he come to the prophet Elisha asking for a miracle, but not want to do something so simple as dipping in a river? So what if it’s muddy? Who cares if it’s demeaning? What does it matter if the prophet himself gave the prescription or sent it via a servant?  Doesn’t Naaman value his life more than a little mud and a touch of humiliation in front of a few servants? 

But it does matter, because Naaman, just like us, is looking for a pleasant, flashy, obvious miracle. One he thought up on his own, something to brag about. Doesn’t this prophet know who he is? Does Elisha not grasp the dignity of Naaman’s station?  Yet he doesn’t even come out of the house. He sends his servant out to say, “Go take a dip in the muddy, disgusting waters of the Jordan.”  It feels like a diss, a dismissal. It’s not. It’s a test. A test to see if Naaman believes in the miraculous power of Elisha’s God, even if his healing doesn’t happen with a wave of the prophet’s hand. Could Naaman believe that a miracle could happen in the still quietness of a dirty river instead of the way he thinks it should?  (II Kings 5:1-14)

Can you?  In the virulent onslaught of news, gossip, and opinions of the world, have you lost your ability to see the miraculous? Do you fail to recognize miracles because they don’t look the way you imagined?  Do you fail to believe God, rail at Him for not coming through, because you can see only the lost miracle you wanted, not the one you got? Have you forgotten that God is omniscient? Your past, present, and future are spread before Him. (Psalm 139; Job 28:24) Maybe your idea of a miraculous rescue would be disastrous in the long run. He knows and sends a miracle to benefit your future, whether you see it now or not. (Jeremiah 29:11) 

You see, our miracles might not look like we imagined. They might not be splashed across the internet in bold-type headlines. They are miracles just the same. So stop it. Stop limiting God. Stop coming to Him demanding a specific miracle in exchange for devotion, good behavior, devoutness. Stop being too much like Naaman, throwing a fit when your miracle isn’t flashy enough or doesn’t draw a crowd. Stop being like the people of Nazareth. Stop thinking God owes you some crazy, wild, “magical unicorn” miracle. He doesn’t owe you anything, but He still chooses to shower on you miracle after miracle. (Psalm 68:19) If you open your eyes, you’ll see them. They might not be breaking news. They might not be medical journal material. They might not even be miraculous to your neighbor. But when we put our trust in the power of God and allow Him to perform His miracles, all things are possible, both large and small. (Luke 1:37) So roll your problems, worries, and cares over on God, mind your business, and leave the miracle-working to the Master. (I Peter 5:7)