Isabelle Dinoir is not a household
name, but her case will go down in the medical text books. She's
the woman in France who got a new face last November. Well, she
got new lips, a chin, and a nose from a donor. A near-total transplant.
A really extreme makeover.
At her first public appearance the other day, she said, "Now
I have a face like everyone else. A door to the future is opening."
But how did it happen? How did her face get so torn up in the
first place? A dog attacked her—not just any dog, but her
own black lab. Isabelle is a single mom with two teenaged daughters.
She said that at the time of the attack, she was wrestling with
personal problems, she'd had a tough week, and she took some
drugs to help her forget. The drugs really knocked her out. When
she woke up, she looked in the mirror: no face! She didn't even
feel any pain. But her face was gone.
Before the possibility of a transplant came along, she lived
that way for some time. She suffered in many ways, not least
from the stares and rejection and disgust of others. At her news
conference she said, "Now I understand what so many handicapped
people must go through every day." Very important. Her
personal tragedy gave her something: it gave her empathy for
others who suffer.
Her loss gave her something else, too: freedom. You know the
country song, Freedom's Just Another
Word for Nothin' Left to Lose. When surgeons suggested the
transplant, she jumped at the chance. A lot could go wrong, but
she reasoned, "No matter what, it can't get any worse than this."
She was willing to take the risk. Now she says, "There's
no comparison between the face I have today and the face I had
seven months ago. It's totally different."
Now go back in time with me to someone else who had nothing
left to lose: the man with leprosy. We don't even learn his name.
His ravaging disease would have doomed him to loneliness, cut
him off from human community and friendship, and consigned him
to relentless poverty. He also would have heard this message
loud and clear: not even God wants you. So he went to Jesus with
absolutely nothing. Not even a face. Leprosy causes the nose
and ears and lips to lose nerve endings, so the sufferer can't
feel when they get hurt. There's a kind of gangrene which causes
them to rot and eventually drop off. Lepers were supposed to
stay away from other people. But this man would not be denied.
His desperate situation gave him a reckless courage to approach
the Healer, Jesus.
"If you choose, you can heal me." His situation,
humanly speaking, was hopeless. But somehow the very presence
of Jesus inspired the man to take heart and to have hope. Everybody
else avoided him, terrified of catching what he had and horrified
by his face. But somehow he felt okay about approaching Jesus.
The Son of God gave him the courage to believe that an incurable
problem could be solved. Lord, if you want to, you can, you can
heal. Do we have the courage to put our problems in Jesus' hands?
This week, on Tuesday we marked the passing of a great American,
a woman of faith, Coretta Scott King. It was almost to the day
forty years ago that she and her husband were here at Illinois
Wesleyan. Dr. King gave one of the greatest speeches of his life,
an electrifying speech—Feb 10, 1966. It was a statement
of faith—but it wasn't a cosmetic cover-up of current
conditions. It was realistic—about the fierceness of racial
hatred, the persistence of soul-destroying poverty, the injustice
of an economy skewed to favor those already oversupplied with
money, the violence. He saw the twisted face of bigotry—but
he dared to dream of the new countenance of caring that might
one day grace us as a nation. Quoting Thomas Carlyle, Dr. King
declared, "No lie can live forever." That is our
hope in God. No lie can live forever. Truth will ultimately triumph.
But not without suffering. Dr. King knew about suffering that
brings redemption.
Jesus Christ is the source of real redemption. The leper said,
Lord if you want to, you can heal." If you want to! Jesus
said, "Of course I want to." There wasn't any hesitation
about it. Some of the oldest manuscripts have the word rage or
anger rather than compassion. Why would Jesus be mad? It was
against the authorities who had rejected the leper, the bigotry
that had boxed him and shut him out. There's such a thing
as good and holy anger toward the forces that rob people of God's
full life. But He directed his emotion toward redeeming the situation,
not toward hurting others.
One last thing. Think again of Isabelle Dinoir. She had some
closing remarks. "I pay homage to the donor and her family." No
redemption without sacrifice. Somebody died—and she received
new life. Same as with us. Because of Jesus, we're all
transplant recipients. We've gotten new faces. New lives.
How do we pay homage to our Donor, capital D? With our words
and songs of praise. Don't ever sell short the importance
of praise and worship. Jesus himself said it: God seeks grateful
worshipers. And second, by living with empathy for others. The
leper engaged in what we might call inspired disobedience. Jesus
said, don't tell anybody. He didn't tell anybody—he
told everybody! With joy in hearts, let's share what Christ
has done for us—until we see Him FACE to FACE!
Let us pray.
Lord, sin has disfigured us, but you've given us a new
look and new life. May our faces shine with the radiance of
your grace, so others may see your light shining through. In
Jesus name we pray. Amen. |
