2025.03.23 | "Stories"
“Stories”
Matthew 9:27-33
Preached by
Rev. Dr. Marvin Lance Wiser
Eden United Church of Christ
Hayward, CA
23 March 2025
Blessed day, church. It's so good to be passing the peace again. Amen? There’s something healing about being together in community, sharing in the peace of Christ. Do you feel it? It’s a sense of belonging. Rest in that feeling. Hay algo sanador en estar juntos en comunidad, compartiendo la paz de Cristo. ¿Lo sientes? Have you ever had something happen to you that was so good you just couldn’t keep it to yourself? ¿Alguna vez te ha pasado algo tan bueno que no podías guardarlo para ti mismo? A moment of grace, a breakthrough, a healing? I know I have. And today, we’re going to talk about that—a story that’s too good to keep hidden, and the kind of healing that goes beyond just physical transformation.
Before we dive in, let’s take a look at the Scripture passage for today, where two blind men experience healing from Jesus. Let’s see what happened to them, and how it can teach us about the power of telling our stories.
The passage begins with two blind men who follow Jesus, crying out, “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” These men aren’t passive bystanders—they are active seekers. Matthew’s words are deliberate: “They followed him,” and “they asked for mercy.” Their agency and intention are highlighted, just as much as Jesus’ intervention. Nuestro pasaje de hoy comienza con dos ciegos que siguen a Jesús, clamando: “¡Ten misericordia de nosotros, Hijo de David!” Estos hombres no son espectadores pasivos, ellos son buscadores activos.
By addressing Jesus as “Son of David” and “Lord,” they were acknowledging Jesus as the promised Messiah. With their faith, they were writing themselves into the story of Jesus that was unfolding. This episode then is not just about receiving healing; it is also about a deeper connection, a transformation that extends beyond their physical bodies.
This is a key point to take away. The healing didn’t start with Jesus; it started with their faith. They sought out healing. And this is where I think we can relate to their story, especially when it comes to mental health. We need to recognize that healing begins with an acknowledgement of a need for help—to acknowledge where we are hurting and to believe that something can change, even if that change cannot come from us alone. Sometimes it takes a village, or a church.
What are the stories we tell ourselves about our struggles, our limitations, and our pain? Have we reached the point where we, like the blind men, believe that healing is possible through Jesus? By following his way of belonging in relationship to others, rather than Cesar’s domineering and exploitative models that produce physical and mental maladies?
And so Jesus gives these men an opportunity to confirm their faith. He asks, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” It’s not a question of ability, but a question of faith. He wanted to know if they truly believed that their story could change—that their blindness, both physical and spiritual, and relationship to the world and others, could be transformed. Jesús les da a estos hombres un momento para confirmar su fe. Les pregunta: “¿Creen que puedo hacer esto?” No es una pregunta sobre habilidad, sino sobre fe. La sanación no empezó con Jesús tocandolos, sino con su fé.
They respond, “Yes, Lord.” And in that moment, their faith becomes a living action. Jesus touches their eyes, and their sight is restored. The truth here is profound: faith leads to action, and action leads to transformation. These men not only believed in Jesus’ power, but they took action, following Him and crying out for help. This is the core of what we see throughout Scripture—faith that doesn’t stay contained within us but moves us to reach out, to act, to speak, and to heal.
For those of us facing struggles, faith in Jesus’ healing power is just the beginning. The healing doesn’t stop with belief—it continues with the brave act of telling our stories, our truth, seeking help, and sharing our struggles with others. Healing is not a solitary journey; it is communal. And telling our stories—our truth—is often the first step toward healing.
After their healing, Jesus gives the two men an instruction: “See that no one knows about this.” Matthew picks up on the Gospel of Mark’s Messianic Secret, but offers a twist, “See.” The verb here is the Greek word for to see, as with the Spanish expression, ¡ojo!, which serves as a warning, much like, “be careful.” “See to it that no one comes to know.” Jesus is cautioning them, let’s keep this miracle close. And so what do they do? They go tell it on the mountain. Of course, they can’t keep it to themselves. They go and spread the news all over the region. Después de su sanación, Jesús les da a los dos hombres una instrucción: “Vean que nadie se entere de esto.” Por supuesto, no pudieron guardarlo para sí mismos, era una noticia buena que cambió sus vidas.
Now, many commentators interpret this as disobedience, an act that hastens the tension leading to Jesus’ eventual arrest. But I think there's something deeper here. After all, it’s not a coincidence that Jesus’ very next healing episode after healing the blind men, was healing a mute. What we’re seeing is the in-controllability of good news. The healing they experienced was so profound that they couldn’t keep it in. When something transformative happens in our lives, it bursts out, it overflows, and it’s often impossible to hide, like the parable of the mustard seed. It’s the same too when we experience righteous indignation, like the Prophet Jeremiah with a fire in his bones. Good news breaks silence, even amid harsh warnings. And sometimes it’s the very act of breaking silence itself that is the good news that allows for eventual healing. Faith overcomes secrecy and silence. Ultimately, it was the faith of our characters that could not be contained. Faith leads to action and action leads to transformation, individually and communally.
This reminds me of something Maya Angelou once said: “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
This is powerful—the stories we carry inside of us are not meant to be hidden. Las historias que llevamos dentro no están destinadas a estar escondidas. De hecho, el mismo acto de contar nuestras historias es a menudo parte del proceso de curación. In fact, the very act of telling our stories is often part of the healing process. What’s been bottled up inside of you? What healing have you experienced that you haven’t shared? What healing are you ready for? It’s not just about telling others; it’s about the healing that comes when we speak our truth, when we acknowledge the power of our stories. We heard such a story from this very pulpit last Sunday. What stories are we telling as a congregation, as a collective, what narratives are we choosing to share and how? ¿Qué has estado reprimiendo en tu interior? ¿Qué sanación has experimentado que no has compartido? ¿Qué sanación estás listo para recibir? No se trata solo de contárselo a los demás; se trata de la sanación que viene cuando decimos nuestra verdad.
Our stories of healing might best serve others and ourselves when not contained. Especially now. Jesus was right to caution the characters around timing, because his time was not yet at hand. But the time to claim the good news of the kingdom of heaven is now. The time for unbridled truth-telling is now.
In this vein, storytelling can be a form of resistance—resisting the silence, the stigma, the shame that too often surrounds both personal healing and mental health. Another form of resistance is in today’s world, where false narratives run rampant and truth-telling becomes a revolutionary act of defiance, solidarity, and healing. May we speak our truths loudly and proudly against conspiracies that seek to harm.
As hatred has come much faster this term, likewise, we too are to be bolder. Accordingly, Boston Mayor Michelle Wu stated in her state of the city address, “We were built on the values this federal administration seeks to tear down.” Tyranny is not to be tolerated. Truth-telling is tyranny’s antidote, and ultimately the balm for all of society.
And how are we as a society doing “mentally.” Pretty broken it seems. I hope we’re not boycotting Netflix right now, because there’s a great documentary streaming there entitled, Join, or Die that examines the last half-century of America's civic unraveling through the journey of social and political scientist Robert Putnam of Harvard University. President Obama was his student and also happened to award him with the National Humanities Medal.
You may remember his book published in 2000, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, which developed from a 1995 essay of his. In essence he found that more people were bowling than ever before, but they were doing so alone, isolated as an individual activity rather than as a group. And so while bowling alleys were seeing more people come through their doors than ever before, they weren’t spending on concessions as they did when they were in groups, laughing and sharing stories, and so revenue plummeted. Another proportionally related trend that Putnam observed was the staggering decline in participation in civic clubs and communities of faith. This was what he had observed in less democratic regions of Italy in the 1970s. The writing was on the wall, and now we’re dealing with the fallout.
So just as the cracks of communal brokenness were observed back in the 1990s, during a time of relative calm; now amid the chaos of the onslaught of democratic institutions we are to hoist flags of recovery and renewal, become the putty that mends the fissures: participate in clubs, choirs, boards, communities of faith, fun Fridays, church councils. Share our stories. Say yes to social wholeness that allows for mental wellness. The writing on the wall may just change its tune yet.
All of this shines a light on the intersection of mental health and sharing our stories. How often have we been taught to keep quiet about our mental and emotional struggles? ¿Cuántas veces nos han enseñado a callar nuestras luchas mentales y emocionales? To hide our pain, to mask our brokenness. Esconder nuestro dolor, esconder nuestra quebrantamiento. This is true for me, a son of the South, who was taught it was never okay to show emotions. Look at this girl dad now. You should have seen me watching Moana 2 or Wicked. I’ve come a long way—we’ve come a long way. There’s a stigma that still surrounds mental health and emotional wellness, even in the church. But I believe that we, as a body of believers, can change that, just as we can begin bowling together again. Aún existe un estigma que rodea la salud mental, incluso en la iglesia. Pero creo que nosotros, como cuerpo de creyentes, podemos cambiar eso, compartiendo nuestras historias.
When we tell our stories of struggle and healing—whether it’s with anxiety, depression, trauma, the list could go on and on—we break the silence. We offer space for others to share, to heal, and to seek help. Oftentimes it’s our intervention that can lead to professional help. Cuando contamos nuestras historias de lucha y sanación, rompemos el silencio. Ofrecemos espacio para que otros compartan, sanen y busquen ayuda. Un espacio para esto es un programa aquí que se llama Mentes Fuertes. Este programa de resiliencia y empoderamiento ha enseñado a las personas a compartir sus experiencias, apoyarse mutuamente. Se trataba de recuperar el sentido de valía y autonomía a través del poder de nuestras historias, rompiendo el estigma y reivindicando el bienestar.
A couple of years ago, Yuliana, who happens to be a narrative therapist, had the opportunity to work on a mental health project with Mass General Hospital and Harvard University called Mentes Fuertes / Strong Minds. It’s a 10-session peer-to-peer emotional wellness program that uses storytelling and skills building as key tools in healing. The program taught people to share their experiences, to support one another, and to own their narratives. This was about reclaiming a sense of worth and autonomy through the power of our stories, breaking stigma, and claiming wellness. This is but one of many ministries of resilience and empowerment offered here at Eden Church.
And this is what we see in our passage today—healing was not just about physical sight; it was about owning a new story, and learning how to share it, one of redemption, worth, and healing. A new story.
The truth is that God has come to heal us. In Jesus, we are invited to leave behind the shadows of our old stories and walk into the light of the kingdom. The stories of pain, of brokenness, of silence—they no longer define us completely. In Christ, we are given new narratives of freedom, healing, and wholeness. Church, Christ is the co-author of our stories. La verdad es que Dios ha venido a sanarnos. En Jesús, somos invitados a dejar atrás las sombras de nuestras viejas historias y caminar hacia la luz del reino. Nuestras historias de dolor, de quebrantamiento, de silencio, ya no nos definen por completo. En Cristo, se nos dan nuevas narrativas de libertad, sanación y plenitud. Así que les pregunto hoy, ¿cómo estamos contando nuestras historias? ¿Cómo estamos recibiendo las historias de los demás? Dios quiere sanación para todos.
So, I ask you today, how are we telling our stories? How are we receiving others’ stories? Are we, like the healed men in today’s passage, sharing the good news of what Jesus has done for us? How the Jesus movement has and is changing lives? That there is an alternative to dominant narratives of exclusion and exploitation? Are we willing to speak our truth, even when it feels risky, even when the world around us tells us to stay quiet? The truth is that God desires healing for us all.
Let’s not keep our stories to ourselves only. The time to speak the truth is now. The time to connect, share, and heal together is now. Our truth and our stories both liberate us and connect us to one another. We may be broken, but we are beautiful, beloved, and on the path toward wholeness.
Remember the words of Brené Brown: “Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” While this may look differently for each of us, may we all be brave enough to share our stories, to heal, and to help others do the same.
Amen.