Tempting Christ

Forgiving the Paralytic

As I thought about my problem with tempting Jesus, I realized I might be going about this all wrong. I was tempting him. Instead, I should be showing him how foolish his plan and mission were. All demonkind had been trying to show God the wrongness of allowing suffering and evil in the world. I had the opportunity to make that case directly, and with the Son of God in human form, he might actually understand.

So I returned to the leper and the family of the merchant, prompting them to tell the story of the miraculous healing. I whispered about the other healings Jesus had done as well--and every time I told the people I spoke to exactly where Jesus was. As always, these people wouldn't know how they knew the location of the Son of God. Those that wondered about it at all would assume God had sent them the knowledge.

When, at last, I'd fanned the fire of human suffering to a sufficient height, I found Jesus.

He was sitting in a house, teaching and healing as he always did. The place was packed, people pushed and shoved to get access to the windows, and lines of lame, terminally ill, and suffering stretched in all directions.

I drifted inside.

With effort, I encouraged people to make room for the worst of the lot--babies with severe deformations, young people on the verge of death from cancer, old people with dementia. Jesus moved among them, pausing between healings to speak.

"Imagine that you have a friend, and he comes to you at midnight and says, 'Hey, can you lend me three loaves of bread? A friend of mine has just come to visit me and I have nothing to give him.' What will you say to him?"

Someone in the crowd answered. "Go away!"

The crowd laughed.

Jesus smiled. "But remember I said he was your friend? Wouldn't that matter?"

People shook their heads.

"No, of course not. Suppose, though, he persists in calling out and knocking. Maybe you will tell him to go away a second time--but if that doesn't work?"

"I'd get three loaves of bread and throw them at his head!" someone shouted.

More laugher.

"Yes," Jesus answered. "And so it is if you persist in prayer. If you patiently continue to ask, God will respond. Ask, and the door shall be opened unto you. Seek and you shall find."

Bits of timber and straw fell from the ceiling then. Both Jesus and the crowd backed away towards the outside of the room.

A whole section of roofing collapsed into the house, and, a moment later, some men on the roof lowered a paralytic to the inside, ropes attached to all four corners of his pallet.

He was truly a pathetic sight, thin with twisted and permanently bent limbs, and covered with sores from where he'd lain too long on one side. He drooled.

I flew above the man, hovering there and summoned my power, willing Jesus to see me.

My cape fluttered and I brandished my flaming sword.

"Look upon this suffering, Son of God. This man, these children. What you see is but a small sampling of what fills this planet from corner to corner. If your time as a mortal has taught you anything, surely it has shown how great the need is, how wrong your Father is for allowing things to be this way."

He stared at me with those pale brown eyes of his. I suppose it was because his power was active, radiating from him because of all the healing he'd done, that his gaze pierced me a burning lance--but I held my ground. This was a battle I'd long wanted to have, and I'd not back down easily.

Jesus gestured to the roof, but kept his eyes on me. "These men above us have shown us what it is to persist in prayer. Look at their dedication, determination."

The crowd watched, silent. I could feel their thirst for more miracles, spectacles, and wonders.

Power flashed out from Jesus, enough that I flinched and was forced to retreat, shielding my face with my hands.

To my surprise, when the energy had cleared, nothing was changed. Frantically, I glanced about the room, trying to see what he'd done.

"So I tell you," Jesus' voice was almost a whisper as he gazed, smiling, upon the paralytic. "This man's sins are forgiven."

For several seconds, there was stunned silence. The pharisees who'd come to listen in the back began muttering to each other. "What blasphemy. Does he think he's God?"

"Who cares about sins?" I shouted, advancing to hover above the paralytic once again. "Look at this man. Look at his friends. See. Finally, understand just what life is like on this world."

"I have come to save souls not bodies," Jesus said. "But to show you that I care for both, and that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins, I say to you--" He focused his pale, fiery eyes on the paralytic. "Rise. Pick up your mat and walk."

As he spoke, power went out from him, far less than before. When it washed over the wretch on the floor, his limbs straightened and his body writhed. While the crowd gasped and backed away, the man stretched, sat up, and rubbed his eyes as if arising from slumber.

The former paralytic stretched out his fingers, gazing at both the front and back of his hands, eyes wide. Then smiled. "I'm whole!"

"One day," Jesus said, "all suffering will end. When the Kingdom of God is here in its glory, there will at last be an end to pain and disease."

I fumed. "But why have pain at all? Ever? And will there be an end to my suffering on that day, Son of God, or is your mercy only for a select few? Listen to me ask, seek, and knock. What of me, Son of God? What of my kind or the sinners or the prostitutes? Are we to be left in outer darkness, wailing and gnashing our teeth? Where is your love for us?"

I used what power I had to make myself heard, for the crowd was buzzing with excitement at what they'd just seen. Everyone wanted to touch the formerly paralyzed man, as if he himself had become something holy.

While they were all distracted, Jesus again fixed his gaze on me. He whispered. "Though you will not appreciate this, I forgive you your sins, Darius."

Power shot from him like lightning and struck me with equal force. It was the smiting I'd long anticipated.

I screamed as the darkness was ripped from my soul. The scent of my spiritual flesh being burned filled the air, as if my very being were being offered upon an altar.

Sheol beckoned for me, and I fell toward it like a burning meteor--but I did not fall into it. Instead, I found myself redirected toward the coin I'd thrown into the sea, the container for my soul.

The next thing I knew, I was on the beach with the waves gently washing over me. The sun warmed me in a way I couldn't remember it ever having done before. It seemed brighter and the sea more beautiful. Birds laughed and danced as they frolicked in the spray around me. I could feel their joy.

Somehow, my safeguard against being cast into the pit had worked.

I forgive your sins, Darius.

Why had he done that? Oh, yes, I'd told him I was asking, seeking, and knocking--of course, forgiveness wasn't what I wanted. Was this some kind of divine joke? It didn't feel like one.

And though I was resolved to regain my fallen status, for the moment I could not bring myself to do so. I stayed by the sea and marveled at the beauty all around me and sang with a happiness I'd not felt for thousands of years.