I have written in the past about the benefits of reading scripture with regular repetition. Deep insight emerges not from racing through chapters but from lingering over verses until they open themselves to us. We continue through the Gospel of Mark chapter one with our Vietnamese students in three to five verse segments, and the slowness has become its own teacher. What appears simple on first reading reveals layers of meaning when we return to it again and again.
We see the beginning of Christ’s earthly ministry, the calling of Peter and Andrew, then James and John. One of the first miracles the Gospel of Mark records Jesus performing is the casting out of the demon in the Capernaum synagogue. Immediately following this scene, Jesus retires to His new friend Peter’s house.
This is where the narrative takes a turn that reveals something profound about how we relate to God—and how small our expectations of Him can be.
“And immediately he left the synagogue and entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law lay ill with a fever, and immediately they told him about her. And he came and took her by the hand and lifted her up, and the fever left her, and she began to serve them. That evening at sundown they brought to him all who were sick or oppressed by demons. And the whole city was gathered together at the door. And he healed many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons. And he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.” — Mark 1:29–34 (ESV)
We learn that Peter’s mother-in-law is living with him. Although scripture does not explicitly tell us why, we can reasonably infer that she is under Peter’s protection—most likely because Peter’s wife has no brothers with whom their mother can live. We learn that she has been very ill for some time, and the request is made for Jesus to heal her. Jesus heals her, and she immediately begins to serve them.
Remarkably, the narrative shifts from this moment. Throughout the evening, the entire town of Capernaum gathers at Peter’s house, bringing many to be healed. Mark tells us precisely who they bring: the sick and the demon-possessed.
No lepers. No paralytics.
They bring to Jesus what they know He can heal. What they have seen Him heal in others. They bring ailments that fit within their categories, within their understanding of what a teacher and healer does. Even in this act of faith—and it is faith to bring the sick to Jesus at all—they keep Christ in a box. They limit Him to what they have already witnessed, what they can comprehend, what feels safe and manageable.
They do not bring Him the impossible. They do not bring Him the untouchable. They bring Him what they believe He might be able to fix.
“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed. And Simon and those who were with him searched for him, and they found him and said to him, ‘Everyone is looking for you.’ And he said to them, ‘Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came.’ And he went throughout all Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and casting out demons.” — Mark 1:35–39 (ESV)
Early in the morning, before dawn, Jesus departs. He goes to a desolate place to pray. Peter and the others—James, John, and Andrew—chase Him down. Their words reveal their assumption: “Everyone is looking for you.”
The implication is clear. Why did you leave? The crowds are here. The need is here. The ministry is here. Come back and do what we expect you to do.
Christ’s response is simple, direct, and revelatory: “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came.”
Jesus will not be bound by human desires. He will not be confined to Capernaum simply because the crowds have gathered. He will not bend His mission to fit the disciples’ expectations or the townspeople’s demands. He came to preach the kingdom of God throughout all Galilee, and that is precisely what He will do.
This is the pattern of the incarnation. Christ does not come to fulfill our agendas. He comes to fulfill His Father’s will. He is not a tame Messiah who can be controlled, predicted, or boxed in by human expectation.
One of my favorite quotes from C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe captures this truth perfectly. When the Pevensie children first hear about Aslan, they ask Mr. Beaver if he is safe. Mr. Beaver replies, “Safe? Who said anything about safe? Course he is not safe. But he is good. He is the King, I tell you.”
Christ is not safe. He will not bend to our expectations. He will not stay where we place Him. He will not heal only what we bring to Him. He will not limit Himself to our categories of what is possible.
But He is good. He is so much more than we can comprehend. And He invites us to step outside our small boxes and trust Him with the impossible.
“And a leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, ‘If you will, you can make me clean.’ Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, ‘I will; be clean.’ And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.” — Mark 1:40–42 (ESV)
As they were going—as Jesus was leaving Capernaum to preach in the surrounding towns—a leper approached Him.
Everything about this moment is significant. The leper does not wait for Jesus to come to him. He pursues Christ. He approaches and kneels in an act of worship. He knows who Jesus is, even before the disciples fully comprehend it.
And then he speaks words that reveal the depth of his faith: “If you will, you can make me clean.”
Not if you are able. Not if you have the power. The leper has no doubt about Christ’s ability. His question is not about power but about willingness. He kneels before Jesus and places his impossible need at the feet of the One he knows can heal.
Moved with pity, Jesus responds with an act of stunning humanity and compassion. He reaches out His hand and touches this unclean man.
Pause here. This is the first human contact this man has felt since he contracted the disease. Leprosy rendered a person ceremonially unclean under the Law of Moses. Lepers were required to live outside the community, to cry out “Unclean! Unclean!” when anyone approached, to wear torn clothes and cover their faces. They were isolated, untouchable, cut off from human contact and from worship in the temple.
This man has not felt the warmth of another person’s hand in years. Perhaps decades.
And the first touch he receives comes from God become man.
Jesus demonstrates in this moment that He is the author of the Law of cleanness. He does not become unclean by touching the leper. Instead, His cleanness flows into the man and makes him whole. More than that, Jesus shows His compassion and humanity. He does not heal from a distance with a word alone. He could have. But He chose to touch.
The leper is made clean. Immediately. Completely. And he walks away having experienced not only the power of God but the tenderness of His presence.
We too often operate like the people of Capernaum. We bring to God only what we know He can fix. We bring the manageable, the predictable, the safe. We keep our expectations small and our prayers cautious. We ask for healing for the sick, for provision in our finances, for wisdom in our decisions—all good things, all legitimate needs. But we stop short of bringing Him the impossible.
We do not bring the leper. We do not bring the paralytic. We do not bring the situations that feel too broken, too far gone, too untouchable. We keep Christ in a God-sized box—ironically, a box far too small for the God of the universe—and we limit Him to what we have already seen Him do.
But we are called to live like the leper in Mark 1:40.
The leper shows us what proximity discipleship looks like in practice. Before we can lead others closer to Jesus, we must first draw near ourselves. Before we can invite anyone into the presence of God, we must pursue that presence with our whole hearts.
The leper does not stand at a distance and shout his request. He does not send a representative. He does not wait for Jesus to notice him. He pursues proximity. He draws near. He closes the gap between himself and the Source of all healing, all hope, all life.
And he comes in worship.
This is the posture of proximity discipleship: drawing near to the God of the universe with the prayer on our lips, “If you will, you can make me clean.” It is not casual. It is not distant. It is intimate, vulnerable, and utterly dependent. The leper kneels at the feet of Jesus, acknowledging both His sovereignty—”if you will”—and His power—”you can.” He places himself entirely at the mercy and discretion of the One who holds all authority in heaven and on earth.
This is not presumption. This is worship. The leper does not demand. He does not manipulate. He trusts. He surrenders. He believes that proximity to Jesus changes everything.
Proximity discipleship is not a program. It is not a method for reaching others. It is first and foremost a posture we take in our own relationship with God. We cannot lead others into the presence of Jesus if we ourselves are content to keep our distance. We cannot invite others to bring their impossible needs to Him if we refuse to bring our own.
The leper teaches us that proximity discipleship begins with radical trust and radical nearness. It begins with closing the gap between ourselves and God. It begins with kneeling in worship, bringing the untouchable parts of our lives into His presence, and praying with utter dependence: “If you will, you can make me clean.”
This is the faith Christ invites us to practice. Not a faith that keeps Him in categories. Not a faith that limits Him to our expectations. Not a faith that only brings what we think He might be willing to heal. But a faith that draws near in worship and says, “Lord, I know you can. If you will, you can make me clean. You can heal this broken relationship. You can restore this shattered dream. You can redeem this impossible situation. You can touch the untouchable parts of my life and make me whole.”
Christ is not safe. He will not stay in the boxes we build for Him. He will not limit Himself to our expectations. He will not heal only what we bring in our small faith.
But He is good. He is moved with compassion. He reaches out His hand and touches the untouchable. He heals the impossible. And He invites us to trust Him with all of it—not just the manageable, but the lepers in our lives that we have been too afraid to bring to Him.
Stop keeping Christ in a box. Stop bringing Him only what you know He can fix. Draw near to the God of the universe. Fall at His feet in worship. Bring Him the impossible. Practice proximity discipleship in your own life first—pursuing His presence with the kind of radical trust the leper displayed.
“If you will, you can make me clean.”
He is willing. And He is able.
From one man He made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us. Acts 17:26-27