Power has a pull as real as gravity, a force of nature that can’t be denied. And we all want it at some level. We’ve read that “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” (Lord Acton, 1887) We’ve witnessed examples of this, but is it universally true? Let’s ask more questions: What do we do with our desire for power? Is there a power that is not infectiously corrupt? How much actual power do we really possess? Does it always corrupt?
Today’s passage answers these questions. It shows staggering incidences of power expressed. Christ is the one dispensing His power to a wide range of recipients.
His string of miracles starts with the instant healing of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law who had been suffering from a high fever. Word gets out. After that, other people who need to be cured are brought to Him. It turns into an all-night healing extravaganza, where Jesus not only heals them of physical illnesses but also releases many from demon possession.
He doesn’t stop there either. The next day He gives Simon another miracle up close and personal by stepping into Simon’s boat to teach a crowd who had gathered on the shore. When He is done, he tells Simon to throw his empty nets into the water, even though Simon and his brother have spent the whole night fishing and caught nothing. Simon obeys and catches so many fish they almost sink not one, but two boats.
Impressive, for sure, and mind-bending for the recipient.
What is equally mind-bending, however, is what Jesus says to those who have benefited from the miracles. He doesn’t say the same thing all the time. We don’t know what he said to everyone, of course. But when the demons acknowledged He was the Son of God, He told them to stop talking about it. When the leper was healed, Christ told him to go only to the priest, offer a sacrifice to testify to his cleansing according to the laws of Moses, but tell no one else. His message for Simon was altogether different; Simon, along with James and John are called to be the first Disciples, now tasked to catch men, not fish.
So, what’s going on with all this? Is there a unifying principle that helps us understand more of who Jesus is so He can increase in our lives, and we can decrease? You bet there is. Jesus does all His miracles to demonstrate His power and that He and He alone is the Son of God, the cure for the sinful nature of man, the Messiah. Full stop. This is what He preaches. This is what He teaches.
Those who were on the receiving end of His miracles all acknowledged His power. But Jesus told some to hush because He wanted to control the timing of His story of redemption. He didn’t want people to think that His message was about political power. His power was the message of the Cross, a humbling, agonizing and costly power of constraint. This all had to happen to connect us to His Father. He paid the price of our sin so we wouldn’t have to. That is how Jesus, with laser focus, uses all the power He had for one purpose: to save us. He stayed on course through the busy times because He pulled Himself out of the fray and went to a lonely place to have focused time with His Father.
Reconsider these miracles and look at them again from the receiver’s perspective. Simon’s mother-in-law gets up from her sickbed and serves Jesus. No trumpets blaring. She just gets up and serves. The leper shows signs of faith before he is healed; he knows Jesus has the power, but he doesn’t presume His will. He surrenders in trust to Christ’s goodness towards him, whether that means healing or not. But he still trusts Jesus enough to ask. When Jesus tells Simon to cast his nets into the water, Simon rationally objects at first: “We worked all night and got nothing.” But Simon obeys Christ’s command anyway. After the miracle, Simon’s response is dramatic: repentance, awe and wonder — the fertile soil for growth in Christ. Simon sees Christ’s power and his own powerlessness. Jesus then calls Simon to a higher purpose: “Stay here and maybe catch fish. Follow me, and you WILL catch men.” Jesus even tells Simon not to be afraid, implying that the use of His power is for Simon’s good.
Even today we see this same range of responses to Jesus’s power to save. The nature of humanity hasn’t changed, nor has the need for the saving grace of Christ. How do we respond to His power? How does it change us and our trajectory?
How would I react if I were instantly cured of a debilitating fever? Would I get up and serve the one who cured me? Interestingly, the Lord did cure me with a miracle. In the aftermath of giving birth, I was hospitalized with an inexplicable infection and a fever of 105°. I was circling the drain toward death, and the doctors had scheduled an exploratory surgery because nothing else had worked. The surgery was a last-ditch effort. On the day before, a Sunday, my Church suspended Sunday School and prayed for healing. That afternoon, a previously unknown abscess burst, and almost immediately the fever went down.
My reaction? At first, it was pure joy and gratitude. I thanked this God who had saved me. But then I was rattled. I couldn’t believe that something like that could happen in the first place. The world of possible suffering grew so much larger, and I needed to see if this Jesus I professed really could be trusted in this. I needed a bigger Jesus. After years of cycling through repentance and distance, in prayer I finally surrendered myself to Christ’s power and love even in the face of inexplicable suffering.
Fast-forward a few decades later and I was being treated for a chronic condition that would severely limit my ability to function. My doctor, a godly, wise and brilliant provider, was able to restore my health after a couple of years. At the end of the intense treatment, he told me how miraculous my recovery was and then asked me why I thought the Lord did this for me. My answer was simple: “to practice faith in love so people can see Christ.”
He looked at me and smiled. “Exactly.”