Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The slap of sandals pounding down the hardened dirt road rang out as the ten men raced into the village. Single-minded determination etched their faces. Hope and faith-filled their hearts. Even though they couldn’t see the results yet, they knew it would happen. They didn’t have to see to believe. There wasn’t a Naaman among them. They didn’t hesitate at Jesus’ command. They didn’t need an enormous, ostentatious ceremony. They didn’t need a special prayer spoken over them or the laying on of hands. The words Jesus spoke were enough to bring about instant obedience. Within seconds of Jesus’ words, they wheeled around, tripping over one another in their haste to get to the temple. Show the priests. Hear the pronouncement that they had been cleansed. Their leprosy was gone. They could return to their normal lives. (II Kings 5:1-27) 

With every step they checked their physical status. Studied one another. Examined their own distorted appendages. Evaluated how they were feeling. At any moment they anticipated the change. Somewhere between the entrance to the village and the priests at the temple, there was going to be a miracle. They knew it. Jesus’ reputation preceded Him. His healing abilities were known far and wide. The lepers knew, had always known, if they could just speak to Jesus, they would be healed. And they believed it. Completely. Even though they didn’t see or experience immediate change and healing, the ten lepers clung to their faith and kept running, doing exactly as Jesus told them to do. Going to show the priests they were healed, even when it hadn’t happened yet. 

No one is to say exactly when their healing occurred. Step 9 or step 99. But it happened. As they traveled, they were healed. Appendages were restored. Skin was healed. They looked like new men. Whole men. Excitement and exhilaration rushed through their hearts, exploded in their minds. They were back! Back to their families and friends. Back to their homes and lives. Back to their flocks and herds and business stalls. Back to celebrations and feasts. After a few seconds of staring in near disbelief at one another, they turned and sprinted the last few yards to the temple. This wasn’t a time for standing around inspecting one another. This was a time for jubilant celebration. They urgently needed to see the priest. They had festivities to plan. It was the most important thing they could think of to do. At least for nine of them. 

Excited and relieved to have his illness healed along with the others, the tenth leper, a Samaritan, didn’t join the final sprint to the temple. The Bible doesn’t tell us why. We can only speculate. Perhaps, being a Samaritan, visiting the temple wasn’t so important to him. Maybe he didn’t have a wife and family to return to. Perhaps he wanted to speak to priests closer to home. Or maybe it was simply that his mama had instilled far better manners in him. Maybe her voice echoed in his head reminding him of the debt he needed to pay. A debt of gratitude. Due now. While he could still go back and catch Jesus before He was enveloped by the next crowd or moved on to the next town. The priests would be available later in the day. They would be there tomorrow if he found it necessary to go then. The priests weren’t the ones who deserved his gratitude. They hadn’t healed him. Hadn’t done anything for him. Only Jesus had. 

Wheeling on his heel, the Samaritan ran in the opposite direction as his fellow former lepers. Racing back to where Jesus was, the man skidded to a halt, garments swishing around his ankles. He meant to be on his knees before he started talking, but his heart overflowed before he hit the ground. Glory to God! Thank you, Jesus! Bowing with his face to the ground at the feet of the One who had literally saved his life, words of gratitude erupted in an unquenchable flow. Thanks. Praise. Glory. Gratitude. For himself. For the others. Jesus had made their faith become sight, cleansed their bodies, restored their lives. All of them. They had all received these gifts. Yet he alone came back to offer thanks.

One wonders where the other nine found themselves at that moment. Were they already leaving the temple to scurry home, embrace their wives, kiss their children, greet their friends and neighbors with the news they were whole again? Did some head straight to their places of business to see how things were faring? Did they rush out to kill the fatted calf and proclaim a celebration in honor of their newly healed bodies? Did they pause, in all of the excitement, to silently pray a prayer of thanks for their rescue? Did they speak to their families about the power of faith in God? Did they mention Jesus at all? His power? His mercy? His grace? Was He the centerpiece of their stories or just a supporting actor as they took center stage? 

The Samaritan’s singularity did not go unnoticed. Jesus was keenly aware of their glaring absence. In questions etched with disappointment and a touch of indignation, Jesus wondered where the other men were. There were ten of them. Ten lepers. Ten outcasts begging for cleansing. Ten men with the faith to believe in His power and head off to the priests before seeing their request granted. Ten men whose bodies had been completely restored. Ten men who could now choose to go anywhere, do anything, speak to anyone they chose. Yet only one chose to return. The Samaritan. 

Where were the others? Where were the men from Galilee? Why was it only this foreigner who came back and gave glory to God? Why was it that, when the prayers were answered, the wishes granted, the desires of their hearts given, why had only one returned to give glory to God? Hadn’t their mama’s taught them better? Hadn’t the scholars briefed them? Didn’t they know their purpose on earth, the desired result of their healing was not to give them a special gift or endow them with a lovely lifetime of pleasure? Didn’t they know why they were there in the first place? Didn’t they know their sole purpose in life was to bring glory to God? And what better way to do so than to fall on their faces before Jesus in glory and gratitude? And why was it that a foreigner, a Samaritan, clearly knew what they didn’t? They were healed, they were here, not to simply go on about their lives seeking pleasure and prosperity. The sole purpose of their miracle was to bring glory to God. (Luke 17:11-19)

Admittedly, I wish I knew the rest of the story. I want to know what happened to each of those men over the next 10 years. I want to know where they ended up. I want to know if they ever realized the reason they were given the gift they received that day. I want to know if they ever found their true purpose, the actual meaning of life. I want to know if they went on to live the remaining days of their lives in a way that brought glory to God. I’m uniquely interested, because it isn’t normal for us. Not for any of us. Not the lepers then. Not us now. Gratitude is often an afterthought. Something given grudgingly or in hopes of keeping the lane open for future blessings. To be grateful and give glory to God for what He has done while humbly stepping out of the limelight is something that requires intentionality. It’s a learned art. But it’s what we were placed on earth to do. Glorify God. (Isaiah 43:6-7; Ephesians 5:15; Romans 15:6; I Corinthians 6:19-20)

 It isn’t exactly a mainstream idea. Instead, selfishness and greed are the prevailing postures of our day. Celebrities and slogans, podcasts and books encourage us to chase glory and acknowledgment and praise, to build up our following, gain publicity, become influencers for others so we can bask in their love and honor and worship. Hoard it for ourselves. Refuse to share it. Not with others. Not with God. Friends, that’s not why you are here. You aren’t here to make a name for yourself, build buildings in your honor, or leave a legacy commemorating your time on this earth. Your sole purpose in life is to bring glory to God who gives you the ability to do all things and, by doing so, point others to Him. (Romans 7:4; Isaiah 43:21; I Peter 2:9; John 15:8; Psalm 50:23)

So. How are you doing with that? Are you living a life that glorifies God? Are you pointing to Him with every success, every blessing, every answered prayer? Do you divert all praise and glory to God or do you claim some for yourself? Do you talk about His magnificent works, even the tiny ones, when you sit down with family, when you walk with friends, when you make small talk with strangers? Are you constantly singing the praises of God in a manner that encourages everyone around you to take their eyes off you, off others, off earth, and focus on Jesus Christ alone? If not, why not? What is more important to you than glorifying God? What other purpose could you possibly have on earth? Why are you here, if not to glorify God? (I Corinthians 10:13; Matthew 5:16; Proverbs 25:27; Jeremiah 9:23-24; Revelation 4:11)