I wish they would leave me alone.
Life has been intolerable ever since I was paralysed. I wanted to die but for some reason, God did not allow me and instead he trapped me in an even greater hell so that I can contemplate my sin while suffering the humiliation of being taken care of everyday.
My family feeds me and cleans me while my friends would spend time with me, taking me outside in this wooden pallet that they had put together so they can carry me around.
It has not been easy for them and sometimes when she thought I had fallen asleep I could hear my mother softly weeping. My friends would be all smiles and cheerful conversation but I’m sure that they are with me only because they pity me. I see pity in every look that passers-by gave me and that fleeting, but ill-disguised, thought of how I am a useless burden.
I have stopped myself from responding to them. I hardly ever speak anymore. I had hated myself and I hate myself even more now. Everyday I ask God, not to forgive me because I am useless scum, but to pity me enough to take my life.
Today they are taking me to this healer that has been the talk of the town. They had heard him teach and were really drawn to him. “He’s the real deal! Truly a man who knows God.” I don’t want to be healed; I want to die, to stop existing. As they carried me, excited and hopeful, I closed my eyes and shut out everything. I wished they would leave me alone.
There was some problem getting to see the healer; the crowd was too big and there was no way to get past the crush of bodies. My friends were undeterred, just as they were undeterred by my lack of response and cooperation. They took me to the roof and lowered me to the feet of the healer through a hole they made.
The room was hushed as everyone took in the scene.
The healer looked up and saw my friends. I followed his gaze and, for the first time in a long time, I looked into their eyes as they gazed down through the hole. I saw their excitement and their hopefulness for me. I saw their love.
My gaze shifted slightly and I stared into the eyes of the healer, eyes that saw me and saw all the ugliness that I have stored up inside; he saw my pain, he saw my despair, he saw my anger, he saw my hatred, he saw my sin.
“Son, your sins are forgiven.”
Tears that were already welling up now flowed. I looked into the eyes of my friends who did not give up on me even though I had given up and it was like a dam burst, a huge blockage within me broke. I sought forgiveness through my eyes and found that it was already there in theirs.
I looked at the healer again but he was now speaking to the people gathered. Then I became aware of the buzz of indignation emanating from those seated nearby. The healer quietened the room and spoke:
“Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to this paralysed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”
Then he turned to me and once again looked deep in my eyes. “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.”
I cannot really remember because I was not focused on details at the time. Did I feel my body strengthening? It did not seem so. I know I felt light, lighter than I had ever felt in years. I know that the man who had made me feel this way told me to get up and take my mat and go home. I just did.
As I walked, the crowd parted, letting me through. My friends had rushed down to see me. I hugged them so closely and tightly, as if I would never let them go, because they had never let me go. And as we hurried to my home to see my family, my mother, I asked, “Who was that man?”
“His name is Jesus.”