Today, only ruins remain of Capernaum, that city by the lakeshore, heart of the Savior’s Galilean ministry. Here he preached in the synagogue, taught by the seaside, and healed in the homes.
On one significant occasion, Jesus (Luke 4:18) took a text from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound” (Isa. 61:1), a clear pronouncement of a divine plan to rescue the “lost battalion” to which we belong.
But Jesus’ preaching in Galilee had been merely prelude. The Son of Man had always had a dread rendezvous to keep on a hill called Golgotha.
Arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane after the Last Supper, deserted by his disciples, spat upon, tried, and humiliated, Jesus staggered under his great cross toward Calvary. He progressed from triumph—to betrayal—to torture—to death on the cross.
In the words of the hymn, “… the scene was changed; the morn was cold and chill, as the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.” For us our Heavenly Father gave his Son. For us our Elder Brother gave his life.
At the last moment the Master could have turned back. But he did not. He passed beneath all things that he might save all things—the human race, the earth, and all the life that ever inhabited it.
No words in Christendom mean more to me than those spoken by the angel to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord: “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.” (Luke 24:5–6.)
With this pronouncement, the “lost battalion” of mankind—those who have lived and died, those who now live and one day will die, and those yet to be born and yet to die—this battalion of humanity lost had just been rescued.
(April 1971 General Conference, http://www.lds.org/general-conference/1971/04/lost-battalions?lang=eng)
As I ponder his words, I can almost hear the shuffle of sandaled feet, the murmurs of astonishment from listeners as they echo from Capernaum’s peaceful scene. Here multitudes crowded around Jesus, bringing the sick to be healed. A palsied man picked up his bed and walked, and a Roman centurion’s faith restored his servant’s health.
Not only by precept did Jesus teach, but also by example. He was faithful to his divine mission. He stretched forth his hand that others might be lifted toward God.
At Galilee there came to him a leper who pleaded: “Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.” (Matt. 8:2–3.) The hand of Jesus was not polluted by touching the leper’s body, but the leper’s body was cleansed by the touch of that holy hand.
In Capernaum, at the house of Peter, yet another example was provided. The mother of Peter’s wife lay sick of a fever. The sacred record reveals that Jesus came “and took her by the hand, and lifted her up; and immediately the fever left her. …” (Mark 1:31.)
So it was with the daughter of Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue. Each parent can appreciate the feelings of Jairus as he sought the Lord, and, upon finding him, fell at his feet and pleaded, “My little daughter lieth at the point of death; I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live.” (Mark 5:23.)
“While he yet spake, there cometh one from the [ruler’s] house, saying to him, Thy daughter is dead; trouble not the Master.
“But when Jesus heard it, he answered him, saying, Fear not: believe only, and she shall be made whole.” Parents wept. Others mourned. Jesus declared: “Weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth.
“[He] … took her by the hand, and called, saying: Maid, arise.
“And her spirit came again, and she arose straightway. …” (Luke 8:49–50, 52, 54–55.)
Once again, the Lord had stretched forth his hand to take the hand of another.
The beloved apostles noted well his example. He lived not so to be ministered unto, but to minister; not to receive, but to give; not to save his life, but to pour it out for others.
If they would see the star that should at once direct their feet and influence their destiny, they must look for it, not in the changing skies or outward circumstance, but each in the depth of his own heart and after the pattern provided by the Master.
Reflect for a moment on the experience of Peter at the gate Beautiful of the temple. One sympathizes with the plight of the man lame from birth who each day was carried to the temple gate that he might ask alms of all who entered. That he asked alms of Peter and John as these two brethren approached indicates that he regarded them no differently from scores of others who must have passed by him that day. Then Peter’s majestic yet gentle command: “Look on us.” (Acts 3:4.) The record states that the lame man gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something from them.
The stirring words Peter then spoke have lifted the hearts of honest believers down through the stream of time, even to this day: “Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.” Frequently we conclude the citation at this point and fail to note the next verses: “And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: … he … stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple. …” (Acts 3:6–8.)
A helping hand had been extended. A broken body had been healed. A precious soul had been lifted toward God.
(October 1971 General Conference, http://www.lds.org/general-conference/1971/10/with-hand-and-heart?lang=eng)
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