Locations & Times

Sometimes I read Scripture and feel a little disconnected or unable to relate to a particular historical account. Then I do a deeper dive and Bam!, my heart is right there in the scene.

Such was the case when I read of the Roman centurion in Matthew 8 and Luke 7. The centurion was a man of courage, wealth, and prestige. As a highly respected military professional, he was accustomed to giving orders and having others follow his bidding. He was fearless. On the surface, he and I are nothing alike, but after digging deeper I realized how much I relate to this man—especially in the moment when he understood that he was powerless to save a loved one … the moment he realized how much he needed Jesus.

If the centurion had kept a journal, I imagine how the entry might have read after his servant was healed:

My head is still reeling with gratitude and amazement. My servant was incredibly sick, paralyzed and close to death. I know others thought me a fool for caring. I’m expected to be disciplined and focused. But when I found myself powerless to heal him, my soul was vexed. I wrestled with my options.

In addition to the healers and magicians, my position gave me access to local and military doctors. I could have gone to a pagan temple and prayed to Aesculapius (the Roman god of medicine and healing) or even asked the local rabbis to pray since we have become friends.

But deep down I knew that they are all mere men or man-made gods. They, like me, have limitations and I didn’t have time to waste. My servant’s death was imminent so I sent some of the Jewish elders to speak to Jesus for me, hoping He would help even though I am a Gentile.

I had heard reports about Jesus, a Jewish man of compassion whose reach and authority were said to go beyond that of any human. Some say He is the son of God, with authority over sickness and death.

I know about authority—I command multitudes of soldiers; they do what I tell them. Likewise, I obey what my superiors tell me. So, I sent for Jesus. He was my only hope.

The elders pleaded with Him on my behalf, and Jesus followed them to my house.

But when He neared my home, I called out to let Him know that I wasn’t worthy for Him to enter my home. “Just say the word and my servant will be healed.” I told Him.

Not only did Jesus heal my servant as I hoped, but He told the crowds that were following Him that He had never seen such faith in all of Israel! From me … a Gentile! (see Luke 7:9 and Matthew 8:10) 

***

I can only imagine what the centurion would have written, but one thing I am certain of is that every one of us will come to a moment when we have no control over people or outcomes. The moment may arrive as a prodigal child, a chronic health issue, or a crime committed against us. It might be a natural disaster that strikes, or a loved one’s struggle with addiction. A spouse who chooses to leave a marriage. Infertility. Death. The circumstances we have little or no control over are countless, and no amount of striving, love, money, power, or prestige can change them. 

In these moments, we decide who we trust the outcomes to. We choose where to place our faith. 

Jesus was not impressed with the centurion’s power or authority. He praised his faith. That is what this story is about. Not about the centurion. Not about the healed servant. It’s about faith. It’s about loosening our grip on the illusion of control and handing the reins over to Jesus. When we do this, everything changes.  

Even if our circumstances remain the same.

For reflection: 

• Where am I clinging to control and what am I afraid will happen if I loosen my grip?
• What would change—not externally, but internally—if I rested in His power instead of my own?