God's Chosen

 

Behold, my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.  He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. 

These verses from Isaiah 42 so beautifully capture the works of Christ among us.  I am meditating these days on the story of the man with the withered hand, in Mark 3.  Imagine this man among us, in our congregation; we have compassion on him whenever he walks in. 

Now imagine despising this man and his hand.  Watch as this Christ comes in, the one who has been doing all those healings.  Watch him, lest he try to pull that here, on this Sabbath day, this day holy to the Lord.  What?  How dare he do that sort of labor on the Sabbath, holy to the Lord?  Imagine hating him for his compassionate touch, his care for this suffering man.  Imagine plotting to kill him for it. 

Have they not suffered with this useless-handed man?  Have they not wondered how he gets along with only one hand to do his daily work?  Is their concern only that Jesus might heal him on the Sabbath, holy to the Lord?   

It's no wonder that Jesus looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart.  Oh Father, heal us of this same hard-heartedness.  Give us Your compassionate heart; change our hearts of stone into hearts of warm, kind flesh.  You, O Christ, are God's Servant, the One in whom His soul delights.  No wonder.