A Broken Man Before the Boundless Gospel
This sermon was originally delivered at Crosswalk Church in Brentwood, TN on March 16, 2025.
Sometimes You Have to Find Another Way
A little while ago I was installing a keypad lock on the door to my upstairs studio—just trying to add an extra layer of security for my equipment, cameras, computers, all that production stuff. So I set the keypad lock up, got the old handle out of the door, got the batteries in, set the code, all of that. I stepped out of the studio, closed the door behind me, pressed lock, and it locked! Great! That’s what it’s supposed to do. So I type in my code to open the lock and continue setting stuff up, and nothing. The lock beeps three times – meaning wrong code. I enter it again, slower, beep beep beep. Wrong code. I enter the default code that came with the lock – beep beep beep. Wrong code. So I try a different code that I may have used, even though I know I didn’t, and beep beep beep. Wrong code.
So now I’ve just resorted to the good ‘ole jiggle the handle and hope. Nope. Next step is the try to get a credit card in there and see if I can open it. I don’t know why I tried that, I don’t know how. But I tried. And you’ll be glad to know that I still don’t know how to do that. So there I was - completely locked out of my own studio.
Then I remembered something—earlier that day, I had opened the upstairs window to let some fresh air in while I was setting things up, and I wasn't completely sure I had locked it when I closed it. It was a slim chance, but worth trying.
So I went out to the shed, dragged out a ladder, and climbed up onto the roof outside that window. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say my heart was racing a bit as I reached for the window—I put both hands on the glass, pushed up, and it slid open! It wasn't locked after all. I awkwardly climbed through, made my way into the studio, and finally unlocked the door from the inside.
It wasn't the normal way to enter my studio. Personally, I prefer the door. And it certainly wasn't dignified. And I’m glad to know that my neighbors don’t call the cops on someone climbing in through an upstairs window.
But sometimes, you have find another way in.
But at the end of the day – I just wanted to get into a room I personally locked myself out of. The stakes weren’t really all that high. Cassy wasn’t even home to see it happening. And thank God for that. But also, thank God there wasn’t a medical emergency going on in that room and I was locked out of it. What would you do in that situation? If a friend or loved one was in there and you’re locked out? You’d do whatever you could to get in there and help. Call 911, bust the door down. If someone’s life was at stake? You bet I would.
Let’s up the stakes again - what if it was their soul that’s at stake. In that moment. It’s life or death, and their soul is at stake. What lengths would you go to then?
Today we’re continuing in our study of the Book of Mark, and in our passage this morning we see four men whose determination is a wonderful example of what real faith looks like when it encounters what seems to be impossible. Because you see, faith isn’t just believing something. Faith acts. Faith moves. And today, we’re going to see how Jesus responds when that kind of barrier-breaking faith shows up at His doorstep, or rather – crashes through the ceiling.
Jesus Draws a Crowd, but Faith Finds a Way
Let's set the scene. Jesus has returned to Capernaum after traveling throughout Galilee. This wasn't just any town—Capernaum had become Jesus' adopted hometown after leaving Nazareth. It was a bustling fishing village on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, and it served as the base for much of Jesus' ministry. Mark tells us in verse 1:
“And when he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home.”
Notice that phrase—"at home." Jesus had established relationships here. People knew where to find him. And in verse 2 we read:
“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.”
Word spreads quickly that he's back in town. In a small first-century village, news traveled fast. Jesus' reputation as a teacher and healer had been growing, and people were eager to see him, to hear him, to be near him. Before long, the house where he's staying is so packed that Mark says there's no room left, not even outside the door. Picture it—bodies pressed together, people standing on tiptoes, craning their necks, straining to hear every word Jesus speaks.
The atmosphere must have been electric. The air thick with anticipation. Everyone wondering what Jesus might say or do next. Would there be another healing? What would he teach? Another confrontation with the Pharisees?
Into this scene come four men carrying their paralyzed friend on a mat. Scripture doesn't tell us their names or their relationship to the paralyzed man. Were they family members? Childhood friends? Neighbors? We don't know. What we do know is that they cared enough to take action.
They've heard about Jesus' healing power. Perhaps they witnessed previous miracles. Maybe they heard how Jesus had cleansed a leper, or driven out demons, or healed Simon Peter's mother-in-law (in this very town, mind you). Whatever they'd heard, they believed it enough to carry their friend through the streets of Capernaum, hoping for a miracle. But when they arrive at the house, they face an impossible situation. Mark 2:3 tells us:
“And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.”
Now, put yourself in their shoes for a moment. You've carried your friend across town. The weight of the mat has made your arms ache. The sun is hot. You're sweating, tired. You finally arrive at the house, only to find an impenetrable wall of bodies. The crowd won't let you through. The door is blocked. Your hope begins to fade.
What would you do? What would most of us do?
"Oh well, I tried. I guess it wasn't meant to be."
"Let's come back tomorrow. Maybe the crowd will be smaller then."
"Jesus is too busy for us today. We'll have to wait."
It would be so easy, so reasonable, to give up. To accept the barrier as final. To turn back, reschedule, wait for a more convenient time. But not these four men. Something within them refuses to accept the obstacle as the end of their journey. Their faith—their absolute conviction that Jesus can and will help their friend—compels them to find another way. No crowd, no barrier, no locked door will prevent them from bringing their friend to the Healer.
So they begin to think creatively. They look at each other. They look at the house. And then they look up. The first part of Mark 2:4 tells us:
“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.”
An example of a first-century Capernaum house.
The houses in first-century Capernaum weren't like our modern homes with pitched roofs and attics. They typically had flat roofs made of wooden beams laid parallel to each other, covered with branches, thatch, and packed earth. Archaeological discoveries in Capernaum have given us insights into the construction methods of that time—these roofs were about two feet thick, sturdy enough to walk on.
In fact, people commonly used their rooftops as extra living space—a place to cool off in the evening, to sleep under the stars on hot nights, or to dry food in the sun.
External stairs or ladders provided access to these rooftops. So the four friends carry their paralyzed companion up to the roof.
Just like that?
Carrying a grown man up a ladder or steep stairs, while he lies helpless on a mat. This wasn't easy. With every step, they're demonstrating their determination, their love, their faith. Once on the roof, they locate the spot above where Jesus is teaching. And then they start digging. First through the packed earth, then pulling away the thatch and branches, finally creating an opening between the beams large enough to lower a man through.
Can you imagine what that was like for the people inside? There they are, listening to Jesus teach, hanging on his every word, when suddenly dirt starts falling from the ceiling. Then small pieces of thatch and branches. People look up, confused. The hole grows larger, letting in beams of light, until it's big enough to lower a grown man through. I wonder what Jesus thought in that moment. Did he pause mid-sentence? Did he smile, already knowing what was happening? Did the owner of the house protest the destruction of his property? Because I don’t think I’d be happy with someone ripping my roof off to get inside. Whatever the reaction below, the four friends are undeterred. They secure the mat with ropes and carefully begin to lower their friend down through the opening they've created, right into the middle of the crowd, right at the feet of Jesus. The rest of Mark 2:4 says:
“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.”
This is faith in action—bold, determined, faith. These men were:
1. Determined - They refused to accept defeat when faced with obstacles.
2. Creative - They found an unconventional solution when the conventional path was blocked.
3. Sacrificial - They were willing to damage property, face criticism, and expend tremendous physical effort.
4. United - They worked together with a common purpose, combining their strength and resolve.
5. Focused - They kept their eyes on the goal—getting their friend to Jesus—rather than being distracted by difficulties.
Their actions reveal something so important about the nature of authentic faith. It isn't passive wishful thinking. It's not merely intellectual agreement to a set of beliefs. True faith acts. It moves. It persists. It finds a way through barriers to get to Christ.
The Greek word used in the New Testament for faith, Πίστις (pistis) carries connotations of trust, belief, and confidence, but it's always connected to action. We see a wonderful example of this when James connects faith to action, writing:
“For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith (πίστις) apart from works is dead.”
These four men embody the kind of living faith that James describes—a faith that has no other option, but to demonstrate its reality through concrete actions.
And if we take this even deeper: Jewish tradition, there's this beautiful concept called חֶ֫סֶד (hesed) - a word that appears over 250 times in the Old Testament. It combines love, loyalty, and faithfulness in a way that goes beyond just feeling compassionate. It's about committed action. These four friends embodied חֶ֫סֶד (hesed) - they didn't just feel bad for their paralyzed friend; they committed to doing whatever it took to bring him to Jesus, showing the same kind of steadfast love that God shows to us. Their actions weren't just impressive; they were actually reflecting the very character of God Himself.
And I’m honing in on this, because what's particularly striking about this story is that it's the faith of this group, not just the paralyzed man, that Mark emphasizes. Verse 5 begins,
“And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’”
We don't know if the paralyzed man himself had faith in Jesus. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he was the one who suggested being taken to Jesus in the first place. Or perhaps he was skeptical, brought along by the insistence of his friends. The text doesn't tell us. But it does tell us that Jesus responded to the faith of this group—to the faith demonstrated by these four unnamed men who refused to let anything stand between their friend and getting him to Christ. Their faith-driven action was a response to God’s grace, not a prerequisite for it.
This story gives us a wonderful picture of how faith works in community. Let me be clear - each person still needs their own relationship with God. I can't believe for you, and you can't believe for me when it comes to salvation. That's always between each individual and God, and only through Christ do we have salvation.
But that doesn't mean faith is just a private matter. Look at what these friends did! They couldn't make their friend's spiritual decisions for him, but they could literally carry him to Jesus.
And that's exactly what they did.
It's like when you have a friend who's going through a tough time. You can’t force them to trust God. But you can invite them to church. You can share your own story of how God has worked in your life. You can pray for them. Just think about your own walk with Christ. Has there been someone in your life who "carried" you to Jesus in some way? Maybe it was a parent who brought you to church as a child. Maybe it was a friend who invited you to a Bible study. Maybe it was a coworker whose life showed you what following Jesus looks like.
What I’m getting at here is that we need each other. Some days we're the ones doing the carrying; other days, we're the ones being carried. That's how the body of Christ is supposed to work - the strong help the weak, those who can see guide those who cannot, those who know the way help those who are lost.
These four friends couldn't heal the paralyzed man. They couldn't forgive his sins.
But they could bring him to Jesus.
And that's our job too – to help people connect with the Savior who can forgive sins. To help others find hope in Jesus Christ.
So, let me ask you: Who are you carrying to Jesus today? Who in your life needs to experience Christ? His forgiveness, His love. And what barriers are you facing that might require creative, determined, sacrificial faith and focus to overcome? And at the same time, we must ask: What barriers are keeping you from bringing yourself to Jesus? Social pressure? Fear? Doubt? Pride? Past disappointment? Cultural obstacles? Faith finds a way through, over, under, around the barriers. The four friends in our story believed so strongly that Jesus could help that no obstacle was going to stop them.
Jesus Addresses the Deeper Need First
The paralyzed man is now lying before Jesus, having been lowered through the roof. But Jesus does something unexpected. Instead of immediately healing his paralysis, He looks at him and says in Mark 2:4-5:
“Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’”
That’s not what anyone was expecting. This man came for physical healing—his friends carried him all this way for one reason: to walk again. But before Jesus speaks to his legs, He speaks to his soul. Because sin is the deeper issue. The real paralysis that Jesus is healing here is not just physical—it was spiritual.
Why? Because our spiritual condition is far more important than our physical condition. Our relationship with God matters more than our circumstances. This shows us Jesus’ priorities, and, by the way, what our priorities should be as well.
And this doesn't mean physical suffering isn't important. Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and showing compassion for physical needs. He cares deeply about our physical well-being. But He knows that our greatest need isn't physical healing—it's spiritual. It’s reconciliation with God.
This same issue comes up in John 9, when Jesus and His disciples encounter a man who was blind from birth. The disciples ask:
“And his disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’”
They assumed his condition was a direct result of someone’s sin. But Jesus corrects them:
“Jesus answered, ‘It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
In other words, while we often try to draw a straight line between suffering and personal sin, Jesus shows us a bigger picture. Not all suffering is the result of specific sins we’ve committed, but all suffering exists because sin broke the world. When Adam sinned, everything fractured—our relationship with God, our relationships with each other, even creation itself. Disease, decay, and death entered into the world. That’s why we get sick. That’s why our bodies break down. That’s why there’s so much pain. So when Jesus first forgives the paralyzed man’s sins, He’s not ignoring his physical condition—He’s addressing the actual root cause of all suffering.
What's also remarkable is how Jesus addresses this man. He calls him "τέκνον" (teknon) in Greek—"son" or "child"—a term of endearment and acceptance. Before any healing takes place, Jesus establishes a relationship with this man that, again, goes beyond his physical need.
So the questions we need to be asking ourselves:
Do we come to Jesus only for what He can do for us physically, materially, temporarily? Or do we recognize that our greatest need is to be forgiven and restored in our relationship with Him?
It’s so easy to just be so focused on our immediate problems that we miss our deeper spiritual needs.
Jesus Demonstrates His Authority
But let’s continue. Jesus' words, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” immediately caused controversy. Mark tells us that some teachers of the law were sitting there thinking to themselves,
“Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”
"Why does He talk like this? That’s blasphemy! Only God can forgive sins!"
And here’s something that may surprise you: they’re spot on. Not a phrase I find myself saying a lot, but here it is. Solid theology. Well part of it: only God can forgive sins.
Now, if I wrong you, you can forgive me for that offense. But sin itself is ultimately an offense against God, and only God has the authority to forgive it.
So we get two options here:
Jesus is blaspheming by claiming divinity, claiming He’s God, or
He's God.
Middle ground doesn’t exist.
And then, we arrive at one of my absolute favorite moments in the Bible. Verse 8 says:
“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?”
Okay – just put yourself in the shoes of those pharisees for a moment. You’re sitting there, silently judging someone in your mind, as you do, just happens to be Jesus this time though, thinking these thoughts that you haven’t voiced to anyone – and suddenly He turns to you and responds directly to those unspoken thoughts! What?! Yet, evidence, direct evidence, again, that Jesus is who He says he is.
And what’s more, He doesn’t just know their thoughts, He challenges them with a question, verse 9:
“Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’?”
It's a brilliant question, isn’t it? Because it works on multiple levels. On one level, simply saying "your sins are forgiven" is way easier because no one can see whether it actually happened. There's no visible verification. You could say those words to anyone, and no one could prove whether anything actually occurred. But saying "get up and walk" to a paralyzed person? That puts the authority you’re claiming immediately to the test. Verifiably. If nothing happens – you’re exposed as a fraud right there in front of everyone.
But on a deeper level, the real answer to the question is the opposite. Physical healing, while it is definitely miraculous, is still temporary. The man’s body would eventually age and die. But forgiveness of sins? That requires the real miracle. That required Jesus to go to the cross. That required Him to take the punishment that we deserve, to bear the weight of human sin, to experience the Father’s rejection so that we don’t have to. As we’ll celebrate at easter, the price for those simple words to this man lowered through the ceiling, “Son, your sins are forgiven” was Jesus’ own blood.
So just look at how this plays out, Jesus is back in Capernaum. Word spreads fast, and there’s a huge crowd gathering around Him. These men carry their friend to Jesus, but can’t get in. So they go to the roof, dig through it, lower their paralyzed friend through the opening to Jesus, and He tells him his sins are forgiven. This pharisee silently judges Jesus in his thoughts, Jesus knows what the pharisee thought (which is awesome), and in Jesus’ challenge to him we’re presented with the Gospel. In 9 verses total we get all of this.
I love it.
Because Jesus, He poses this question to help them–and us–understand something so important about His identity and His mission. He’s saying, “You think I don’t have authority to forgive sins? Let me show you my authority in a way you can’t deny.” Then we get verses 10-11:
“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.’”
Boom – mic drop. I got chills reading it this past week. I got chills writing it into my sermon, and I have chills saying it now. It’s just so - awesome. It’s beyond words.
This, by the way, is the first time in Mark's Gospel that Jesus refers to Himself as the “Son of Man,” though He'll use it many more times. It's a reference to Daniel 7:13-14,
“I saw in the night visions, and behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man, and he came to the Ancient of Days and was presented before him. And to him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom one that shall not be destroyed.”
By calling Himself the "Son of Man," Jesus is making a claim to be this heavenly, authoritative figure directly from Daniel's vision. So that, combined with His claim to forgive sins, Jesus is essentially saying, "Let me prove my authority to forgive sins (to do the invisible miracle) by doing a visible one." He's connecting His ability to heal with His authority to forgive. Both flow from the same power and authority that only God possesses.
Jesus isn't just saying He's a messenger announcing God's forgiveness—He's claiming the personal authority to forgive sins Himself. And we’re about to get the proof.
The Response: Praise and Worship
So Jesus turns to the paralyzed man and says,
“I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.”
Every eye in the room shifts from Jesus to the paralyzed man. There's a moment of breathless anticipation. Will anything happen?
What happens next confirms Jesus' authority in the most undeniable way:
“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!’”
"He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all."
The Greek text emphasizes that this happened "immediately" (εὐθύς, euthys) – a word Mark loves to use throughout his Gospel to show the power and immediacy of Jesus' actions. He tells us that the healing was instantaneous and complete. This wasn't a slight improvement or just some psychological effect. This was physical transformation. The man who had to be carried in by four friends, who couldn't move his own limbs, who had been dependent on others perhaps for years – this man now stands on his own strength, picks up his own mat, and walks out through the crowd. There's no physical therapy, no gradual improvement, no recovery period—just immediate, complete restoration.
Try to picture this. The man is lying there one second, perhaps with atrophied muscles from years of paralysis, and the next he's standing—his legs suddenly strong enough to bear his weight. His nervous system, previously unable to send signals to his limbs, now functions perfectly. He reaches down, rolls up the mat he's been lying on, tucks it under his arm, and begins walking through the stunned crowd that parts to make way for him.
People are gasping. Some are covering their mouths in shock. Others are pointing, nudging their neighbors—"Look! He's walking!" The friends who brought him are leaning through the hole in the roof, cheering and whooping with joy. It’s almost like we can hear the celebration: "He did it! Jesus healed him! Look at him walk!"
And what about the pharisees? They're stunned into silence, their theological objections hanging in the air, unanswered and now irrelevant in the face of this undeniable miracle. They came to judge, but now find themselves being judged by the very evidence before their eyes. Mark tells us the crowd "were all amazed and praised God, saying, 'We have never seen anything like this!'" The Greek word for "amazed" here is ἐξίστημι (existēmi), which literally means to "stand outside oneself" or to be beside oneself with amazement. This is jaw-dropping astonishment that leaves you speechless. The kind of amazement that fundamentally alters how you see the world.
And now, this is huge - notice their response: they praise God. They recognize that what they've witnessed could only be explained as an act of God.
“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!’”
They exclaim. This miracle doesn't fit into their existing categories or past experiences. It demands a new understanding, a new perspective. This miraculous healing accomplished several things:
It validated Jesus' authority to forgive sins. Jesus explicitly connected the visible healing with the invisible forgiveness, using one to prove the other. As Augustine would later write, "He did the miracle which they could see, that they might believe He had done the other one that they could not see."
It demonstrated His compassion for human suffering. Jesus didn't just make theological points—He actually healed a man in desperate need. He addressed both spiritual and physical needs, showing God's concern for the whole person.
It revealed His identity as more than just a teacher or prophet. The combination of forgiving sins (which only God can do), knowing the thoughts of the pharisees, and healing with a word places Jesus in a category by Himself. These are Godly prerogatives and powers.
It showed the power of persistent faith. Jesus responded to the determined faith of the four friends who refused to let obstacles stop them from bringing their friend to Him. Their faith created the context for this miracle.
It fulfilled messianic prophecies. Isaiah had foretold that when the Messiah came, "the lame shall leap like a deer" (Isaiah 35:6). This healing was a sign that God's promised redemption was breaking into the world through Jesus.
But here's something important to remember: Every person Jesus physically healed during His earthly ministry eventually died. And that’s not meant as a downer, but to emphasize that the real miracle, the forgiveness of sins, that's eternal. That lasts beyond the grave. That addresses our deepest and most fundamental need as human beings. That treats the disease, not the symptoms.
And we’re challenged do examine our own priorities. What are we more concerned with—our physical well-being or our spiritual condition? Our temporary circumstances or our eternal standing before God? What would we rather hear from Jesus—"Your body is healed" or "Your sins are forgiven"? The answer to that question reveals a lot. Our culture is obsessed with physical health, youth, and comfort, and this story reminds us that our spiritual health matters infinitely more. Jesus didn't come primarily as a miracle worker or healer, though He did those things. He came as a Savior, to reconcile us to God by addressing the root problem of sin.
And I’m struck by the way this passage ends. The man walks out:
His healing isn't private—it's public, visible, undeniable. And so too should our response to Jesus be. When Jesus transforms our lives—whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually—it should be evident to those around us. Our healed lives become testimonies that bring amazement and glory to God.
Conclusion
As we bring this powerful story to a close, I’m struck by how many different barriers were broken in this remarkable encounter with Jesus.
First, the four friends broke through physical barriers to bring their paralyzed companion to Jesus. When faced with an impenetrable crowd, they didn’t give up—they found another way. They climbed, dug, and disrupted to make sure their friend got to Jesus.
Second, Jesus broke through spiritual barriers by forgiving the man’s sins. The greatest obstacle between humanity and God has always been sin, and Jesus, by His authority, removed that barrier.
Then He shattered the physiological barrier, restoring the man’s body in an instant. And as the man picked up his mat and walked, he publicly broke through cultural barriers, boldly displaying his transformation.
And finally, the theological barriers came crashing down. The religious leaders had built rigid systems around how God was supposed to work—who could be forgiven, how healing happened, and who had authority. But Jesus doesn’t fit in their box. He never does.
Each of these barrier-breaking moments reveals something profound about faith and about Jesus.
Each of these barrier-breaking moments reveals something really important about faith and about Jesus:
True faith is persistent. The four friends refused to accept the crowd as a final obstacle. It finds another way in. They kept pushing forward until they found a way. Too often, we give up at the first sign of difficulty. But faith that moves mountains isn’t passive
True faith is communal. It carries others to Jesus.
True faith is focused on Jesus. It isn’t distracted by the crowd.
But let’s be clear—this kind of active faith isn’t about earning God’s favor. These men didn’t break through the roof to prove themselves worthy of Jesus’ help. They acted because they already believed in His power and compassion. Their effort was a response to faith, not a requirement for grace. In the same way, we don’t bring people to Jesus to earn His approval—we do it because we trust in His ability to heal and restore.
This brings me to three important questions:
First, are we blocking the door?
Look at this scene from another angle. Imagine someone else in the crowd that day—someone who got there early, claimed their spot, and refused to move. They weren’t trying to be a barrier, but they became one.
Are we crowding around Jesus so tightly that we’re making it harder for someone else to get to Him?
Think about the way we live our faith:
Do we make Jesus more accessible to others, or are we unintentionally making it harder?
Are we welcoming and inviting, or are we exclusive, inward-focused, caught up in our own experience?
Do we step aside to make room, or does someone have to rip up the roof just to get in?
The four friends didn’t let the crowd’s indifference stop them. But what if the crowd had made a way instead?
This isn’t just a question on an individual level—it’s a challenge to the Church. Do people see Jesus in us? Are we actively helping others come to Him, or are we blocking the way with legalism, judgment, or spiritual complacency and apathy?
What is Roof-Breaking Faith?
And second, what does ‘roof-breaking faith’ look like in our lives today? We're not literally carrying our friends on mats or tearing through ceilings, but the principle remains the same—determined, creative, sacrificial faith that brings others to Jesus.
For parents, it might mean persistently praying for your children, modeling authentic faith even when they seem uninterested, and creating environments where they can encounter Christ. It might look like the father who adjusts his work schedule to be there with his family, building relationships with his family and modeling faith and leadership in the home.
For a friend supporting someone struggling with addiction, it might mean learning about recovery resources, accompanying them to support meetings, and standing by them through relapses—all while gently pointing to Jesus as the ultimate source of healing and freedom.
In the workplace, it might look like integrity that stands out, kindness that raises questions, and wisdom that opens doors for conversations about faith. It's the coworker who notices someone going through a difficult time and offers both practical help and an invitation to find community at church.
For those with resources, it might mean financially supporting missionaries or ministries that are reaching people you could never reach personally—becoming the hands that lower others to Jesus through your generosity.
Whatever form it takes, the essence remains the same: We see someone in need, we believe Jesus is the answer, and we don’t let let obstacles prevent us from sharing Him. These four men had no idea that their determination would be recorded for all of history. They weren’t trying to make a name for themselves. We don’t even know their names. They weren’t thinking about legacy. They just wanted to get their friend to Jesus.
And that’s our call too.
To share the hope of Christ with others. Like these four friends, we do everything we can to lead people to Jesus, with full faith and assurance that only He can do the transforming work in their lives. My prayer for us as a church is that we be people of faith who refuse to stop at obstacles. May we be the stretcher-bearers, doing everything we can to share Jesus with anyone who will let us. And may we always remember that Jesus’ greatest gift isn’t just healing—but salvation itself.
Let’s pray.
