Tearing off the Roof

Our kids spend a large portion of their days dancing and singing (read: screaming) along to music playing on YouTube. Something about watching singers on TV makes them feel like they are at, or maybe they are, a fun concert. Their favorites are some phenomenal worship songs. Lyrics that have been tried and found faithful for centuries find their place in new melodies. The girls usually perform their newest ballet moves while CJ air drums along.

One of CJ’s current favorites is “Tear off the Roof” by Brandon Lake.

This purpose of this post is not the topic of artists or music video content. But I want to share with you my current life’s visual.

If you do not know my family personally, CJ is our almost teenage son, who was born in a different country, with a host of complex medical conditions. He uses a wheelchair to navigate through life.

The first time I heard this music video, my stomach dropped.  A scene from a popular show called The Chosen played on the screen.

And when He returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that He was at home. And many were gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door. And He was preaching the word to them. And they came, bringing to Him a paralytic carried by four men. And when they could not get near Him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above Him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. And when Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, “Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” And immediately Jesus, perceiving in His spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them, “Why do you question these things in your hearts? Which is easier to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”- He said to the paralytic- “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We never saw anything like this!”

Mark 2:1-12

CJ’s life has been far from easy. He faces more challenges in a day than most adults do in years.

This story of the paralytic, mentioned in three of the gospels, is very real to me as the mother of a child who is handicapped. The extraordinary details left out of this story make it so gritty and powerful, I’m not sure I can articulate it. Since most people who retell this story understandably do not have first-hand experience with severe disabilities, let me paint a picture to give you the weight of the story Mark recorded for us.

Do you know what it is like to carry anyone larger than a toddler up countless steps, much less an ancient ladder onto a roof? I’ve lifted him to change the mat under him like the one described in the story. I see how complicated it is to bathe when you cannot stand. Imagine trying to change your clothes without the use of your legs. Think about the number of pressure ulcers you fight from immobility as a paralytic- the infection, the drainage, and odor. Consider the number of times people have physically moved you against your will and you were powerless to stop them. Because certain types of nerve damage cause incontinence, bowel and bladder control is lacking for many- a fact that would make the paralytic in the story unclean and shunned, not to mention messy to lower into a house. Do you feel the humility of dragging your body across the floor, unable to look at any other human’s face at eye level? Can you hear the taunts and jeers of your peers? The ones who could not fathom the strength you carry under every scar.

But I sit in the living room and watch my daughters twirl round and round, but narrow in on my son’s face as he watches these friends literally tear the roof off a house to get this man to Jesus.

He sees the legs that don’t move and the love radiating from Jesus’ eyes.

And then CJ starts to sing.

And my heart feels like it could stop beating.

Because we have begged Jesus to heal CJ. We’ve pounded on heaven’s door until our fists were bloody, pleading for God to move- to heal CJ’s body, his mind, and his heart.

And He hasn’t.

The music pounds on and the character’s toes start to wiggle.

And the calendar in my hand is a countdown to a massive, life-changing spinal surgery for CJ.

Because of his birth defect, his spine has become so deformed, without surgery, the compression of his heart, lungs, and other organs will eventually kill him. The problem is so severe, the surgeons will permanently remove one of his vertebrae, putting his spinal cord at extreme risk, while they attempt to forcefully straighten his spine.

This is the reality of our family. We know the Healer, and sometimes He chooses not to heal. Instead, He asks us to press forward, trusting His goodness despite unending suffering.

I sat in CJ’s room recently, answering some of his many questions.

“Mom, after this surgery, will I walk like my sisters?”

And I choked back the tears as I shook my head.

The truth is, this surgery is so risky, the odds are high that he could lose the little function he has now. 30% chance of complete paralysis is what they told us. Then the surgeon mentioned that the nerves for his hands are close to where they will be operating. Nerve damage is irreversible. They will be dangerously close to cutting near a major artery. So, no, my boy won’t walk when he wakes up. And I swallow down the more terrifying question, “What if this is the surgery he doesn’t wake up from?”

The music thumps as CJ drums along, his legs crumpled on the floor under him.

I look around the living room once again, my family of six, worshipping joyfully with the thrill of loud music.

“There is a life changing.
Grave shaking.
Dead raising power in the room.
Heart-healing.
Hell-stealing.
No ceiling power.
So tear off the roof.”

And I see Him. I see Jesus in this room.

His healing runs in our veins, even when His answer is no. He holds all of the power, and He marches onward with us as we wheel our baby into the OR or we twirl together in the living room.

A masterfully played song achieves its goal of stirring heart-pounding emotions. And the Biblical story of the paralytic uproots the dark questions that haunt my soul. We cheer for the man who took up his mat and walked home. We jut out our chins at the scribes who questioned the authority of Jesus. We weep as we imagine the joy on the face of Jesus as He forgives sin and changes lives.

But what do we do with the ache when the cover of the Bible closes and the wheelchair still rolls across the room?

We must be careful not to read ourselves into stories that God did not intend us to. We will come across hundreds of characters throughout Scripture and identify parts of ourselves in most of them. We see our desperation in the prayers of Hannah, our suffering in Job, our injustice in Tamar, our sin in David, our joy in overflowing fishermen’s nets, our salvation in Paul, and so many others.

We watch as God moves throughout the generations, pushing His purposes through the centuries and using a variety of lives to tell His story. And that is the key. It is His story.

You see, I can read the story of the paralytic and drive myself to insanity doubting the levels of my own faith and questioning the goodness of God when my son doesn’t take up his mat and walk. I can spiral into wondering if God is who He says He is. If He can be trusted.

And while some self-reflection and digging into stories is beneficial and right, I must use caution to not miss the point entirely. 

The story of the paralytic is not a story about the paralytic. It is a story about Jesus.

It shows us that Jesus cares to teach the truth, as He was doing when the paralytic arrived. It shows us that He recognizes our faith, and the power of friends who carry us to His feet. It clearly displays His compassion. He shows us that He knows the heart and thought of man. He demonstrates His authority to forgive sins- an authority only available to God Himself, thus proving His divinity. He proves miraculous power.

Because we can be slow to learn, He uses stories to teach us that His every action is for our good and His glory. He was good to heal a man. He was good to honor the friends. He was good to call out the sin of the scribes, granting the opportunity for repentance. There is not a single part of this story that does not demonstrate His goodness.

And when I see the story for what it is- a story about Jesus, only then I can accurately apply it to my own life. God’s dealings with CJ are good. God’s dealings with me as I care for CJ’s broken body and heart are good.

I don’t know the suffering the paralytic endured until he met Jesus, and I don’t know what kind of troubles life brought to him after his healing. But I know that Jesus was the defining point.

The song lyrics are right. There is power in the presence of Jesus.

And there is the same defining point for CJ. And for me. If Jesus has promised to be with us, even to the end of the age, then He has already given me what we’d really tear the roof off for: Him.

He has stamped every event in our lives with His seal, promising that somehow, it is all good. Even when it doesn’t feel good.

So friends, tear off the roof. Drag yourself and your friends to Jesus. Bring everything to Him. But remember that you’re not pressing in for the gifts or the healing. You’re pressing in to get to Jesus. Because the power, safety, and healing is Him.