Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And there was a woman who had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. Luke 13:10-11
He’s still teaching in the synagogues.
And why not, since the people are still listening, but it has to be a hostile atmosphere by now. On this particular day, while he’s speaking his eye falls upon a women who is bent over from the effects of a “disabling spirit.” It seems unlikely that Luke, a physician, would have used that term to describe her condition if Jesus had not used it himself later on. It might have taken unusual discernment to notice her because a woman would not have been sitting up front with the men. Would she had been behind a screen? Tucked away but still there, either because it was her habit or because Messiah was teaching? She didn’t ask to be healed. Maybe she had tried to get close to him before and wasn’t able—obviously, she didn’t get around too well.
Anyway, she’s there: bound and bent and old before her time. Leaning forward probably, listening with her head down, looking at the ground (like always), entranced by his words, though she doesn’t understand them all. All Kingdom he speaks of . . . can she get there? Or can it come to her? Is it for her at all, or only for the powerful and knowledgeable? Perhaps she could come close. I’d rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness, for—
“Woman!”
Even without looking, she knows he’s speaking to her—that shiver down her frozen spine feels like the very word.
“You are free of your affliction.”
And those words . . . They’re like warm water seeping into her bones. Her back flows as the vertebrae loosen one by one. For eighteen years they were locks in place and could not move without shrieking pain. For eighteen years, crabbed and stunted, she had crept along like an insect, scarcely looking up, unable to lift her head. His few words pour into her, the high and low tones of his voice seek out the tiny nerves and blood vessels and muscle fibers, massaging them to life again. Slowly she . . . straightens . . . up. with no pain—the opposite of pain—the rush, the vigor, the dance of body parts working as they were created to work. It’s perfectly normal, and normally perfect; she feels like Adam in the moment he stood up and stretched and felt his body for the first time. Her entire body surges; every nerve tingling, every bone rejoicing.
She can’t help herself; she bursts out in song.
I will sing unto the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously! . . .
Meanwhile, an argument is going on. She notices with half a mind. The ruler of the synagogue is lecturing someone. Oh. He’s lecturing her, along with everyone in earshot which is a big audience because she has attracted quite a crowd. Somehow her dancing feet have carried her right out of the synagogue and into the street, where Jesus is—she must rush up and thank him—along with the rulers and scribes. She notices they’re angry. What about?
“. . . . six days out of the week you have to come and be healed. You know the text: Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the Sabbath day is holy to the Lord. On it you shall do no work . . .
Silly men! What’s happened to her is holy to the Lord. Satan bound her, God healed her. The word is very near, in her mouth and in her heart. The Lord is speaking—about her! His voice sounds angry—but not at her. She’s a daughter of Abraham who walked by faith . . . but bound by Satan—for eighteen years! The experts of the law would untie an ox or donkey to water it on the Sabbath, but throw a fit when this woman—her! I’d rather be an ox or donkey in the stable of my God than . . . than anything.
But he lets me be myself. Look, this is me, free at last!
Her joy is contagious, spreading through the crowd of relatives and neighbors and perfect strangers, all giving glory to God while his Messiah contends with that little surly knot of naysayers. She feels like Miriam (Exodus 15), leading the women of Israel in their victory song:
The horse and its rider he has thrown into the sea!
For the first post in this series, go here.
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