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Then one of them gets an idea—probably the youngest guy the tattooed and pierced guy, because he's an outside-the-box thinker.

"Dudes! What if we make a hole and lower him through the roof! Whoaaa!"

They realize it's an unorthodox way to get into a room, but they are desperate to get to Jesus. They had decided they wouldn't let anything get in their way, so strong is their trust in Jesus, so great their love for their friend.

The man's friends must wonder how Jesus will respond to their unconventional plan. I know from personal experience that teachers can get a little touchy about being interrupted. You'll notice Jesus made sure he came to earth before there were beepers and pagers and cell phones ("in the fullness of time" is the biblical phrase for it).

Jesus looks up and sees the faces of four friends staring down at him. They have nothing to ask for themselves. Their only thought is, "If we can just get our friend close to Jesus …" That's what great friends want to do for each other.

Then the text says an amazing thing: "When Jesus saw their faith …"

Usually healing stories speak of Jesus seeing the faith of the one asking for healing for themselves or their child. Here it's the faith, not primarily of the man, but of his friends.

Do you have any idea what the faith of one person can do for a friend?

They dug a hole through a roof and sent in their friend. There is no record of their saying anything. It is not what he heard that moved Jesus; we are told that he saw their faith. What did he see?

A big hole in the ceiling, four faces in it—sweaty, dusty, anxious, hopeful faces thinking only of their friend and trusting somehow that Jesus will respond. Jesus sees a group that possesses and acts on an irrational commitment to the well-being of one of its members.

Jesus sees a little of what God intended when he made human beings. He sees people who love even in the face of shame and brokenness. He thinks to himself that this is humanity at its finest.

He sees their faith.

Jesus turns and looks down at this twisted, motionless body on a mat. He sees not only a broken body but—as in every one of us—a broken, fallen soul.

He speaks tenderly: "Son, your sins are forgiven."

I wonder what the man on the mat thinks at this point. He hadn't really signed up to have his sins talked about.

But it's one of the things that happen when you get neck deep into community. In deep community with Jesus, in the Fellowship of the Mat, we find our sin being talked about and forgiven.

Jesus is filling the desires of this man's friends, perhaps even deeper than they realize. When someone is your friend your greatest desire for them—deeper than external well-being or even physical health—is that things are right between them and God. If someone is truly my friend, their deepest concern is the well-being of my character, my soul.

This man—who has been mocked and judged by people who assumed that his damaged body indicated that he was spiritually inferior—this man is told by Jesus, "You're clean. You're forgiven. You are right with God."

It is striking that Jesus knew the man needed forgiveness as well as healing. A friend of mine asked recently, "What sins can a paralytic do, anyway?" Jesus understood, of course, that the deadliest sins—resentment, arrogance, judgmentalism, lovelessness—are ones we can commit without lifting a finger.