MATTHEW 9:1-8
“Forgiveness is man’s deepest need and God’s highest achievement.” That is not only a good summary of the effects of Jesus’ gospel, but it is also a good summary of what we read here in the first eight verses of the ninth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel. For here we will indeed see both that forgiveness is man’s deepest need and also God's highest achievement.
And Behold—Their Faith
Our text takes us from “the other side” (8:28)—the region of the Gadarenes where Jesus cured madness. Jesus is now back to “his own city,” as verse 1 says. This was not Jesus’ birth city (Bethlehem) or his boyhood city (Nazareth) but his adopted city, the city at the center of his Galilean ministry, Capernaum. In his retelling of this miracle, Mark confirms this as the setting and fills in some details. Jesus is in a house preaching the Word to a standing-room-only crowd. Meanwhile, four men who are unable to enter the room through the front door carry their paralyzed friend atop the house (Jewish houses in those days had outside staircases and flat roofs) and enter in an unconventional way. They tear open the roof and let their friend down through it (see Mark 2:1-4). Matthew leaves out the de-roofing and other such details and gets right to the heart of the miracle: “And behold some people brought to him a paralytic, lying on a bed. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven’” (9:2). “Faith” and “forgiveness” are the two key concepts here.
First, Jesus takes note of and commends their faith. Like the leper and the centurion of chapter 8, these five men (the paralytic included) didn’t question in their hearts whether Jesus could heal, only if he would heal. Thus, they took a bold step of faith, no matter the social or material cost, to see what would happen. Jesus saw this faith, and he liked what he saw. As we will see throughout this Gospel, faith manifests itself not so much by what one knows or feels, but by what one does in response to Jesus. These men wholeheartedly trusted that Jesus was sufficient. That’s why they did what they did. “Only say the word, and my servant will be healed” (8:8) was their faithful disposition, the type of faith in the Gospels that “invites the Lord’s miraculous powers.”
Secondly, we see forgiveness. Instead of an immediate miracle, as was Jesus’ practice thus far—he immediately healed the leper, servant, and woman; he immediately stilled the sea and cast out the madness—here he immediately forgives sins. “Take heart, my son,” he says with fatherly care to this poor crippled man; “your sins are forgiven” (v. 2). Imagine the shock! Imagine the disappointment! Why didn’t he heal the man physically? Imagine what people thought.
Many Christian leaders today tell us that the church and its message need to be relevant. We need to meet people where they are. We need to discover people’s felt needs (e.g., loneliness, feelings of inadequacy, etc.) and use those needs to bring such people into a saving relationship with Jesus. Such talk makes some sense, and it certainly sounds kind and understanding. However, it does not reflect Jesus’ philosophy of ministry here. His approach was quite different.
I’m sure this poor paralytic had more than a few felt needs. In ancient times the disabled were social outcasts. There were no mandatory building codes for wheelchair accessibility. There were no special care centers. There was no group therapy. In general, paralytics were lonely, helpless, and hurting people. So, can you imagine all his felt needs? Can you imagine all his real physical needs? This was a desperate man.
So here comes Jesus to the rescue. We can count on Christ’s sympathy for this man, stuck to a mat, barely able to raise his head, longing for a cure, right? But what do we get? Our Lord has the apparent audacity and cruelty to gloss over the most obvious need. Jesus does not first say to him, “Rise, pick up your bed and go home” (v. 6). Rather he first says, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven” (v. 2). How irrelevant! How inappropriate! It is an outrageous statement but “a calculatedly outrageous statement,” for which Jesus is well known.
It is possible that what Jesus says to the paralytic reflects his knowledge of this man’s particular sins and their relationship to his paralysis (it is not uncommon for Scripture to speak of illness and misfortunes as being the result of sin). This man’s sin or sins may have brought about this sickness. Yet it’s also possible (and I think this is the case) that Jesus addresses this man in this way because this man, like any naturally sinful human being, needed his sins to be forgiven. That’s what he (like we) needed most.
Think of what our Lord says here in this way. Imagine being in a car accident and rushed to the ER. If the doctor there treated your broken toe before your internal brain hemorrhage, you would not think him to be especially compassionate or levelheaded. Here Jesus, the Great Physician, shows both his compassion and his levelheadedness by treating this man’s greatest need first. Jesus stops the spiritual bleeding of the soul caused by sin. He does this because he knows that to cure this man’s body would have been an immediate but impermanent solution. To restore his health would perhaps save him from decades of suffering, but to restore his soul would save him (whatever becomes of his body) from death. So in verse 2 Jesus’ authoritative declaration of the forgiveness of sins may not have been what the paralytic and his friends wanted to hear (it certainly wasn’t what the scribes wanted to hear), but it was what they needed to hear. It is what we need to hear as well.
Our felt needs or physical needs may be great, but they will never be as great as our need for forgiveness.
And Behold—Their Doubt
Forgiveness is man’s deepest need and God’s highest achievement. That’s why Jesus first says, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven” (v. 2). However, the story doesn’t stop there. Jesus’ declaration in verse 2 creates a most unexpected twist in the story in verses 3,4. The action abruptly shifts from the needs of the paralytic to the thoughts of the religious authorities. It shifts, we may say, from the physical paralytic to the spiritual paralytics—“the scribes”— some of whom said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming” (v. 3).
Now, before we are overly accusatory toward the scribes, I want us to sit in their seats for a minute. Often we come down too hard on these religious leaders simply because we fail to understand their perspective. Here we must understand that in Jewish theology one thing was clear: sin could be forgiven by bringing an offering to God in the temple. Yet, what do we find here? There is no sin offering, no priest, and no temple. Thus it is no wonder these men who were schooled in the Law “questioned in their hearts, ‘Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”’ (Mark 2:6, 7). If only God can forgive sins, which the Hebrew Bible everywhere attests, then what is this man Jesus up to? Who on earth does he think he is? Does he think he is God (cp. John 10:33)?
The Jewish scribes are no keystone cops. They are no three stooges. They are not bumbling idiots. The scribes were thinking rightly about this “teacher,” Jesus, for if God alone can forgive sins, Jesus is either claiming to be God or is guilty of blasphemy. And looking at him—this man of real flesh and bones and blood—they naturally concluded the second option to be more likely. In their view Jesus is guilty of claiming to stand in the very place of God and to exercise God’s power to forgive. Only God can forgive sins; Jesus claimed to forgive sins; he is only a man; he is thus guilty of blasphemy, which according to Leviticus 24:10-16 is a capital offense; therefore Jesus must die! This is their logic, for this is precisely what unfolds in the Gospel narrative. Months later, when Jesus was standing before the Jewish Council, comprised of the high priest, the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes (see 26:57), the high priest declared concerning Jesus, “‘You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your judgment?’ They answered, ‘He deserves death’” (26:65b, 66).
I’m sure you have seen a movie where a bank robbery has gone awry and the robber is holding someone hostage, and the police captain or FBI agent is told in his earpiece, “Our sharpshooters have the man in range.” Trained to hit a target with absolute precision, the sharpshooters are just waiting for the command to pull the trigger. Similarly, the scribes, Bible sharpshooters if you will, are eyeing the target. As the story unfolds, they will take the shot and tragically kill the most innocent man ever to live. Their judgment was good, but not good enough. Here Jesus warns them not to be so trigger-happy, and he reprimands them for the slight inaccuracy of their aim.
But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, “Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic—“Rise, pick up your bed and go home.” And he rose and went home. (vv. 4-7)
I doubt that Jesus had any formal education in philosophy, but he certainly demonstrated a mastery of the art of argument. Here our Lord gives what philosophers call an a fortiori argument, which goes like this: if something more difficult can he achieved, then this guarantees the validity of the claim of something less difficult. This is the precise logic Jesus uses in his clever counter-question: "Which is easier to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, and walk?’” Well, “it is surely easier to say that the man’s sins are forgiven (for which there is no empirical verification) than to say that the paralytic should get up and walk (for which there would be an immediate empirical verification).” Therefore, since there was no way to test the reality of forgiveness, but an easy way to test the reality of healing, Jesus proved he had the power to forgive sin by healing the paralyzed man. Demonstrating his divine power in both word and deed, he commanded the paralytic to rise, pick up his bed, and go home. And what happened? “And he rose and went home” (v. 7).
Think about this miracle for a moment. Out of this mob of people gathered in this house, how many of these people did Jesus heal? We don’t know. Matthew highlights only one. Why only one? Only one was needed to make the point. Jesus’ point, given in verse 6, is, “the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”
Be careful when you read the miracle stories of Jesus not to miss the point. In this passage, just when we may think we have our finger on its message, Jesus says, “Look carefully at it again.” We may point to this passage and say it is primarily about how Jesus can heal (v. 7). “No,” Jesus says, “it’s not about that.” We point again and say it is primarily about the type of faith necessary to bring about such healing (v. 2). But Jesus says, “No, it’s not about that either.” What it is about is Jesus’ authority and ability to forgive sins! Note verse 6: “the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” That’s what this passage is about. If you’ve missed that message, you’ve missed everything.
Jesus is “the Son of Man”—that is, he is the king prophesied in Daniel who in come into the world with all divine authority. He is “the Son of Man [who] has authority on earth,” which means no more need for a temple on earth, a sacrificial system on earth, or a priesthood on earth to make those sacrifices in the temple. The Son of Man now has authority on earth to forgive sins.
What can wash away all my sin?
The temple? The priests? The blood of bulls and goats?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
The forgiveness of sin is our deepest need, and through Christ it is God’s highest achievement.
Following the Crowd
Some years ago I used to commute to work. Seven minutes there and seven minutes back home. During this commute I would always listen to a book on tape. “Redeeming the time because the days are evil,” Paul said (Ephesians 5:16 kjv). You’d be amazed how many books you can get through in just fourteen minutes a day. I listened to Moby Dick, The Iliad, The Odyssey, Torn Sawyer, and dozens of other great books.
One month I listened to H. G. Wells’s famous novel The Invisible Man. Throughout this brilliant work of fiction, Wells describes the story of a scientist who discovered a way to make the appearance but not the matter of his body disappear. In one scene the invisible man encounters the skeptical Professor Kemp, who just that morning had repudiated the newspaper’s claim that an invisible man was on the loose. Using the best scientific information available, this professor claimed the whole thing a hoax—until the invisible man paid him a visit. Once Professor Kemp recognized the movements and heard the voice of this invisible man, it was only a matter of seconds before he changed his opinion and believed in this absurd reality.
In a similar way Jesus' healing of the paralytic proved his invisible miracle of forgiving this man’s sins. As Professor Kemp's doubt changed to faith when he experienced undisputable evidence, so too did Jesus desire that these scribes and this crowd would “know” (v. 6) this invisible reality for themselves. Jesus wanted them to know and experience firsthand both the right and the authority by which he forgives sins, as well as the forgiveness of sins itself. But it appears, as usual, that the crowd and the scribes missed the point.
However, this is not so obvious from the text itself. At first glance verse 8 seems to be a positive conclusion: “When the crowds saw it [the miracle], they were afraid [“filled with awe” is the sense, niv; nasb, “awestruck”], and they glorified God, who had given such authority to men.” This sounds positive enough until we realize that this glorification of God is somewhat superficial. That they “glorified God” does not mean that they recognized Jesus’ true identity or that they recognized that Jesus’ “physical miracle verified his moral miracle.” Remember that this was a small religious community and as such no one doubted when this paralytic took up his bed and paraded home. They knew something miraculous and amazing had just happened. They rightly and naturally responded with terror or amazement, saying essentially, “Wow, God, this is truly awesome. In all our lives we have never seen anything like this!”
Yet similar to the declaration at the end of other miracle stories, this seemingly positive declaration contains everything except the one thing that is necessary (the only thing Jesus is looking for)—faith. Their response lacked faith in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God, the Son of Man, the one to whom we now go to receive forgiveness of sin.
The older I get, the more I appreciate my mother’s common sense in not allowing me as a child to do something simply because everyone else was doing it. The plea of “everyone else is doing it” rarely worked with my mother. She turned a deaf ear to the notion of following the crowd, I suppose because she knew that the crowd was not a valid indication of whether or not an activity was wise or profitable. As in real life, in the Bible we often find that the crowd rarely knows what they’re saying or doing. In Matthew’s Gospel particularly we know for certain that the crowd is not to be followed.
The word “crowds” in Greek is oxlos. I don’t know why, but I love saying the word oxlos. Matthew must have liked it just as much, for he used it fifty times in his Gospel. But for Matthew the word oxlos was far more than an interesting-sounding word. To him there is a whole theology behind this two syllable noun.
At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry he is rarely without a large crowd surrounding him. The crowd forms the audience for his teaching, and the crowds are often the object of his miraculous compassion. Yet it is this same crowd whom Matthew never once describes as corporately turning to Jesus in repentance and faith. They may be amazed. They may give generic worship or lip service to God. But the crowd never turns to Jesus for the forgiveness of their sins.
If you think I’m being too hard on them (I’m stretching verse 8 beyond how it can or should be stretched)—“Leave this poor crowd in Capernaum alone!”—you ought to hear what Jesus will say of this crowd later in 11:23, 24:
And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You will be brought down to Hades. For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I tell you that it will be more tolerable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom than for you.
This crowd in Capernaum saw Jesus in the flesh more than any group in history. Our Lord considered their city “his own city” (9:1). This crowd heard his sermons live and in person. This crowd witnessed with their own eyes his miracles. Yes, they were amazed. Yes, they were astonished. Yes, they were filled with awe. But they were never filled with faith. The crowd was never converted. The crowd never came to Jesus for the forgiveness of their sins.
The point of all this is that amazement is not enough! Don’t follow the crowd, or at least not this crowd. If you want to follow a crowd, follow the one at Pentecost, who was “cut to the heart” after hearing Peter’s powerful speach about “this Jesus whom you crucified,” this Jesus whom “God has made... both Lord and Christ” (Acts 2:36b, 37a). This crowd said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, “'Brothers, what shall we do?’And Peter said to them, 'Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins’” (Acts 2:37b, 38a). Then what happened? They did just that, “and there were added that day about three thousand souls” (Acts 2:41b). Do you want to join a crowd? That’s fine, but don't join the one in Capernaum. Join the one in Jerusalem. Repent, believe, and be baptized in the name of Jesus for the forgiveness of your sins.
God's Highest Achievement
If you have leprosy or some other terrible skin disease, I can’t promise you that Jesus will heal your leprosy. If you have a child or someone you love who is dying, I can’t promise you that Jesus will cure him or her. If you have a fever, I can’t promise you that Jesus will cool it. If you’re paralyzed, I can’t promise you that Jesus will heal you. But if you are a sinner who knows that you are as helpless as a crippled man lowered through a ceiling on a mat, I can promise you that if you have faith in Jesus and his death and resurrection—the ultimate display of his power and authority and compassion—he will forgive your sins.
It’s not that Jesus can’t deal with whatever physical issues with which you and I are dealing. He certainly has the power and at times the willingness, as clearly shown in Matthew 8, 9. It’s not that Jesus can’t or won’t deal with all that ails us on the outside. Rather, it’s that his priority is dealing with what ails us on the inside. For you see, “forgiveness is our deepest need”—this world needs forgiveness more than we need a cure for cancer, and such forgiveness is what God offers to us in the gospel, which is truly his “highest achievement”—the forgiveness of sins through the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.
(R. Kent Hughes. and Douglas Sean O'Donnell., 2013; edited Carl Hinton., 2020)