Mark 7:31-37 · The Healing of a Deaf and Mute Man
You Can Be Articulate
Mark 7:31-37
Sermon
by Michael B. Brown
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A quick look at any medical journal reveals thousands of phobias that afflict people ... not discomforts or unpleasantries, but full-blown, pulse-raising, sweat-inducing, emotionally debilitating phobias. They come in all shapes and sizes.

We find arachnaphobia (the fear of spiders) and musophobia (the fear of mice). There are claustrophobia (the fear of confined spaces with no visible exit) and hydrophobia (the fear of water which prevents anyone from knowing the joys of swimming in summer or deep sea fishing). My personal Achilles heel is acrophobia (the fear of heights). I don't do ferris wheels or roller coasters. When my children say, "Dad, we want to ride the chair lift," in this or that amusement park, I always answer, "Great! I'll buy you the tickets and wait right here until you return."

Some folks suffer from sitophobia (the fear of foods, which is often a by-product of obesiophobia, the fear of being fat, which frequently leads to anorexia or bulimia, which usually lead to physical dysfunction and sometimes even death).

Some phobias are peculiar to the extent that most of us cannot possibly identify or even sympathize. How about venustaphobia (the fear of beautiful women)? Or chorophobia (the fear of dancing)? Or pediaphobia (the fear of dolls)? There are regional phobias (such as lilapsophobia, the fear of hurricanes or antlophobia, the fear of floods). One in 20 adults suffer from agoraphobia, the mother of all phobias (the fear of fear). One I find particularly intriguing is ecclesiaphobia (the fear of churches). It seems to strike millions of unsuspecting victims every Sunday morning.

Of all the fears that paralyze people, one is most common. It is called laliophobia -- the fear of speaking in public. More people are afraid of doing that than of anything else at all. It is the fear that we cannot communicate to others that which we know, we cannot articulate that which we believe, and if we try we will sound stupid or silly, ludicrous or laughable. Certainly this phobia spills over into our lives of faith so that the old hymn "I Love To Tell The Story" is more appropriately sung "I Love The Story But Couldn't Tell It If I Tried." That, however, need not be the case. So far as our lives of faith are concerned, we can be articulate. We can tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love with power and passion whether or not we are able to stand on our feet in front of a crowd. That's not always where the best preaching is done anyway.

Mark tells of a man who could not articulate his wants, needs, emotions or wishes. He could speak after a fashion, but not well. One had to listen closely to understand anything he tried to say. But one day Jesus came along and changed all that. And in telling that story Mark provides the following formula for what it takes to be able to communicate effectively. 1 -- Before we can speak a winning word, we have to hear a winning word.

"And they brought to Him a man who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech ... And Jesus put His fingers in his ears, and touched his tongue, and said, 'Be opened!' And his ears were opened, his tongue released, and he spoke plainly."

There is a beautiful hearing-impaired actress named Marlee Matlin who won an Oscar for the poignant movie Children Of A Lesser God. In the movie she consistently communicated via sign language, though her leading man knew she could speak. In a riveting scene near the film's conclusion, she finally verbalized in his presence. Her words were intelligible but not articulate, slowly formed just well enough to be understood, but not clearly. The character could not speak well because she could not hear.

Apparently such was the case for the man in Mark's story. Before Jesus unlocked his tongue, first he had to open his ears. Only when he had heard a message did he have anything to say.

So it is for most of us. We cannot share with others what we have not found ourselves. We cannot teach what we have not heard. We cannot articulate a truth to others that we have not appropriated in our own lives.

My wife and I used to go to a doctor who chain-smoked. He was a wonderful physician. We trusted him implicitly. But had he ever needed to warn us about the dangers of tobacco, we wouldn't have taken him seriously because he would not have practiced what he preached.

A friend told me of referring someone to a clinic for people with eating disorders. As it turned out, the counselor at the clinic was a man in mid-life who was grossly obese. Why would anyone listen to his counsel about diet or nutrition? Obviously he doesn't take his own advice.

How many parents lecture their children about the dangers of drugs while holding a can of beer in their hand? Why should children pay any attention to that?

I knew a fellow clergy once who shuffled from one out-of-the-way congregation to another almost yearly. He was never popular or well-received by his church members. He wrestled with why his seminary classmates were serving exciting parishes while he was always on the edge of nowhere with a moving company on call. However, anyone who is around him for five minutes knows exactly why. His language is so profane it would make Andrew Dice Clay blush. It's not easy listening to someone talk about Jesus when virtually everything else he has to say is obscene.

Before the man in Mark's story could speak a winning word to the world, first he had to hear, receive and accept that word as his own. We cannot communicate a Gospel we do not possess. 2 -- Jesus communicated his truth, love and power in this story to a single person, not to a crowd.

Just because one is not quick afoot in front of a crowd does not mean s/he can't tell people about Jesus. The most effective communicating is always done one person at a time. For every incident in the gospels where Jesus addresses great crowds (e.g., the Sermon on the Mount or preaching from the boats by the Sea of Galilee), there are dozens of other occasions when he spoke to ones and twos: to Andrew who came asking questions; to Nicodemus who came under the cover of darkness; to Zacchaeus that day in the little scoundrel's house; to Mary and Martha in their home in Bethany; to a Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well; to a poor man chained to the tombstones outside The Decapolis; to a grateful leper on the highway; to a handful of children and their moms who stopped Christ on his way to Jerusalem. To be a powerful communicator of truth does not require having to wow great crowds with our words. More often it means winning one person at a time with our faith.

I heard a Christian recording artist on the radio recently talking about the most important influences in his life. He knows and has worked with all the most prominent Christian preachers, lecturers, authors and performers in the nation. But he said above and beyond them all, the single most profound influence in his life (in fact, he said, the single force that won him to Christ) was his mother. He confessed that he had not been an easy child. If trouble were to be found, he was usually the one to find it. But every night his mother would come into his room, kneel beside his bed and talk to Jesus about her son. He would listen in as she said: "Jesus, he's a good boy. He just doesn't know it yet. Give me the patience to be his mother. Let me be slow to anger and quick to forgive. And let me love him the way you do." The singer said: "I play concerts before huge audiences. I am heard on radio stations around the world. But somehow I think the most important witness I make is every night when I'm home, I kneel and pray beside my little boy's bed like Mama did next to mine." We never know the incredible influence we can have on the world simply by sharing our faith, articulating the gospel, to one other person at a time. 3 -- The most effective way of communicating is not through what we say but rather through what we do and what we are.

"And they brought to him a man who was deaf and had an impediment of speech ... And taking him aside privately, Jesus touched his ears and his tongue, and looking up to heaven, he sighed, 'Be opened.' " Jesus touched the man. He didn't just say, "I hope you get to feeling better," or "I'll keep you in my prayers." Instead he took action. He did something specific and visible to make the man's pain go away.

Still the most powerful way of articulating the gospel to others is through what we are and do rather than what we say. The old poem still carries a great deal of truth:

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day. I'd rather one should walk with me than merely point the way.

In Keeping Pace, Ernest Fitzgerald relayed the true story of a magazine company which several years ago purchased a new computer. Its function was to compile data and send out subscription notices to customers whose subscriptions had lapsed. One day something went wrong with the machine, and before the error was discovered (about a month later), a certain rancher in Colorado had received 9,374 notices that his subscription had expired. Someone in the magazine office posted the letter the company received from him. Inside was a check for one year's subscription along with a handwritten note saying: "I give up! Send me the magazine." He was won over by their consistent, persistent attention.

That's what still wins people over to Christ. It's the consistent witness we live before them: the kindness and gentility that are consistently evident, the willingness to listen without judging and to help without expecting something in return, the smile that's always there, the warm hug or handshake that we can count on, the friendship that doesn't blow hot and cold, the faith that is evident in good times and other times, as well. We articulate Christ's presence and power most effectively not with eloquent words but rather with a steady, faithful Christian life that others can see and believe in.

Mark concludes the story by saying the gospel was "zealously proclaimed" through all the region. A man who thought he didn't have much to say became a great communicator of the greatest truth in all the world. The same can happen for all who simply believe in Christ and live what they believe in front of others.

CSS Publishing, Be All That You Can Be, by Michael B. Brown