A Strength Beyond Our Own

“But Jesus answered, ‘No more of this!’ And he touched the man’s ear and healed him.”
Luke 22:51 (NIV)

A mark on a favorite shirt can make us reach for the strongest cleaner we can find. We simply want to save what matters before the stain becomes permanent. Yet the same cleaner that removes the stain can fade the color or leave a faded area larger than the original mark. Urgency narrows our attention to the damage in front of us. We may not notice what the cleaner is doing to the fabric we hoped to protect. The stain may disappear while the fabric itself is weakened.

On the night Jesus was arrested, a crowd came carrying swords and clubs. The people who had followed him saw what was about to happen and asked, “Lord, should we strike with our swords?” (Luke 22:49). Before Jesus answered, one of them acted. He “struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear” (Luke 22:50). The man with the sword stood beside Jesus. The wounded servant had come with those to arrest him. In the space between the question and Jesus’ reply, the blow had already fallen.

Jesus answered after the blow. “No more of this!” he said (Luke 22:51). The follower’s concern was real, but the action was unlike the person he meant to defend. Could loyalty to Jesus still carry us into something that does not look like Jesus? Then Jesus turned toward the servant. Luke says he touched the injured ear and healed him. Perhaps his answer reaches us when defending our response gives way to seeing the person it affected.

Most of our forceful responses do not involve swords. They may be an email sent too quickly or a well-meaning correction delivered before the other person finishes speaking. Jesus had said, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27–28). Standing beside the wounded servant, Jesus made those words visible. The person affected may be across from us, reading our message, or growing quiet while we defend what we said. Could this be the strength beyond our own, not the force that defends the blow, but the courage to turn toward the wound?

Isaiah pictured God’s peace as a day when people would “beat their swords into plowshares” (Isaiah 2:4). Beside the wounded servant, Jesus gave a glimpse of that peace. The sword had already fallen, yet he answered with a hand that healed. A plowshare does more than refuse to wound. It turns the same metal toward the soil, opening hard ground for seed, new growth, and harvest. What we damage is not always restored quickly. Still, maybe the strength in me that once reached for the sword is not something Jesus must discard. In his hands, it may become the plowshare that opens wounded ground for a harvest I had not imagined.

Prayer

Jesus, interrupt me when I act before listening. Turn my attention toward the person my actions have affected, and reshape my strength so that it heals, restores, and reflects your peace. Amen.