He said, “If you will listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in his sight, obeying his commands and keeping all his decrees, then I will not make you suffer any of the diseases I sent on the Egyptians; for I am the Lord who heals you.” [Exodus 15:26 (NLT)]
Jehovah Rapha, the “Lord who Heals You,” was the name of God proclaimed to the Israelites through Moses at Marah. Indeed, a God who could make the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers clean and raise Lazarus from the dead can heal any physical ailment.
Jehovah Rapha, however, doesn’t limit His healing to physical ailments; He can heal our emotional and spiritual brokenness as well. God made known this name of His as the Israelites were camped at Marah. For three days, they’d traveled in the desert without finding any water. When they arrived at Marah, the exhausted and thirsty group was disappointed to find the water undrinkable because of its bitterness. When Moses cried out to the Lord, God had him throw a piece of wood into the water to make it sweet. The Lord who Heals took the bitter out of the Israelites’ water and made it palatable.
Our Christian creeds speak of the resurrection of the dead and, in this Easter season, we often speak of Christ’s resurrection. As we sang out the words to “Resurrecting” last Sunday, I realized we don’t have to physically die to be dead. Bitterness, anger, shame, fear, depression, loss of faith and guilt can poison our hearts and take away life. We still may be breathing but we’re dead inside. The God who Heals, Jehovah Rapha, can take our ailing embittered hearts and restore them to health. As He did with the water at Marah, He can take poison and make it palatable. The Lord who Heals can transform the bitter in our lives into something bearable.
Jehovah Rapha, thank you for your healing grace. Take my brokenness—the dead and bitter parts of my life—and make them sweet. Resurrect me, dear Lord.
By Your spirit I will rise From the ashes of defeat
The resurrected king Is resurrecting me
In Your name I come alive To declare your victory
The resurrected king Is resurrecting me.
[“Resurrecting” (Elevation Music- Brown, Brock, Ntlele, Furtick and Joye)]
We’d taken my daughter and grand-daughter to a magic show and both my husband and grand had participated in two rather impressive illusions. On the way home, we three adults tried to figure out how each trick had been done. We explored various scenarios that might explain how the $50 bill with my husband’s signature on it ended up in the middle of an uncut orange, in a paper bag, and in a locked box that was in another locked box across the stage. We also tried to figure out how the magician used an elaborate series of mathematical calculations to know the age of our grand’s dog in dog years. (The dog, not there and being 105 in dog years, was most definitely not your average dog.) While we pondered various scenarios, my grand piped up, “Stop trying to figure it out. It was magic!” While it was an entertaining show, we know it wasn’t magic; it was just a carefully orchestrated and well-executed series of tricks. Nevertheless, we continued to want to know how each had been done. There is something about us all that wants to make sense of that which makes no sense. Sometimes, however, that can’t be done.
It’s springtime in the mountains and I’m thrilled to see that it’s snowing. Although I was hoping for at least one more powder day on the mountain, that’s not why I’m pleased. I’m happy because, once again, everything looks pristine and clean. You see, March’s warmer temperatures and sunshine have been busy melting the nearly 300 inches of snow we’ve had this season. As that white stuff gradually disappears, ugliness is uncovered. Hidden under those mounds of snow is four months’ worth of unsightly litter, pollution, exhaust and smoke residue, scoria and gravel. That filthy accumulation is now making its appearance along the roadways. As the snow recedes along the footpaths, it’s not just lost mittens, discarded tissues and cigarette butts that emerge but also the dog dirt and moose and elk pellets from the animals who have ventured onto the trails. As beautiful as springtime in the mountains can be, this ugliness is part of what we call “mud season.” Today’s snow covers it all up again and I can briefly forget the filth hiding beneath it. It’s sort of like sweeping dirt under the carpet or painting over handprints on the wall; although the grime is still there, it doesn’t bother us because it can’t be seen.
I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to unplug the televisions until after the elections in November. It doesn’t matter which party or which candidate, the conduct and rhetoric has become nearly unbearable. Today’s Bible reading took me to Matthew 5 and the Beatitudes—those declarations of blessedness given by Jesus at the beginning of His Sermon on the Mount. I couldn’t help but contrast His words with the behavior of our politicians, their supporters and the news media. I then remembered A.W. Tozer’s observation that, if we were to take the Beatitudes and turn them inside out, we’d have the “very qualities which distinguish human life and conduct.”
Having been raised in the Episcopal Church, I’ve always observed Lent and practiced some sort of self-denial during the six weeks from Ash Wednesday to Easter. According to Christianity Today, nearly one in five Americans observed Lent in 2015. In a survey this year, more than 400,000 tweeted about their fasts and food or drink and technology were the most popular categories of denial.
Devotions of the Heart 