Unbound
This sermon reflects on Jesus’ healing of a woman bent down by burden and the clash between rigid law and liberating love. It invites us to move beyond limited perspectives—of ourselves, of others, and of God—and step into Christ’s expansive vision of dignity and compassion.
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
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Transcript
Imagine for a moment that you have been bent over for the last eighteen years. Every day, you wake up and see the world from the ground up. The people you love, the things you cherish,
are all seen from an unfamiliar view.
Your body, once moving in one way, now moves and feels differently. You’ve learned to live within its limits,
and yet the pain, fatigue, and breathlessness weigh on you.
You feel the stares and whispers of others, the uncomfortable silence, the pity in their eyes.
Some may have tried to help—some with kindness, some out of obligation, others with little understanding.
Still, you keep showing up.
You keep worshiping, keep living, keep loving.
But your life is also marked by the extra burdens others put on you— the judgment, the assumptions, the quiet exclusion.
Perhaps hope for change has dimmed,
not because you lack faith,
but because this has been your life for so long.
Then, you hear about a teacher, a healer,
someone who has been doing extraordinary things.
And he’s visiting the synagogue in which you worship.
You, like the rest of the crowd, are waiting.
Waiting to see what this man will do.
He calls you over, looks at you with compassion,
and with a voice full of authority and mercy, says,
“Friend, you are released from your burden.”
And he touches you.
For a moment, you’re stunned. Something shifts in your heart, in your spirit. Strength returns to your spine, the pain in your back begins to lessen. You stand up, fully, for the first time in eighteen years.
You feel the air, the space, the room in your lungs, and in your life. But something else happens: your perspective shifts.
The world that once felt so constricted now seems expansive. Not because you were any less worthy,
but because Jesus has unbound you—
from pain and from the narrow way others saw you—
so you can live with joy in a new way.
Others are outraged.
They criticize the healing because it happened at an inappropriate time. They argue that you should have waited another day…
another day of pain, another day of exclusion.
They see rules, but not life.
They see law, but not heart.
And in their eyes, what should be a moment of celebration
becomes an opportunity for judgment. They don’t see the miracle. They see only their expectations.
But let’s consider from another angle—the perspective of the synagogue leader:
The synagogue leader is a man of the law.
His whole life, his identity, is rooted in the observance of the Sabbath. The Sabbath…a sacred gift, a day of rest…
a day when folks can draw close to God without worldly distractions. It isn’t just about physical rest, but spiritual renewal.
To break the Sabbath, in his mind,
is a violation of something much greater than a rule—
it is a challenge to the order and sanctity of God’s command.
From his perspective, Jesus’ actions are a violation of that sacred order. Healing on the Sabbath isn’t just inconvenient,
it’s illegal in his understanding.
It isn’t just about a woman being healed;
it is about Jesus challenging the very foundation of his faith.
How could he allow a miracle to be performed in direct opposition to the law that governed the rest of their lives?
Jesus sees something completely different:
Jesus, in his gentle yet bold way, challenges this rigid perspective. He doesn’t just see a broken rule; he sees life weighed down by burden. He doesn’t just see the law; he sees a heart that has been burdened for years. Jesus doesn’t come to uphold a rigid interpretation of the law but to fulfill the law—to bring it to life, to animate it.
In his response to the synagogue leader,
he points out the hypocrisy in their thinking. He asks:
“Do you care more about your farm animals than you care about this woman, a daughter of Abraham?
Can’t we untie her from her oppression on the Sabbath?”
Our perspectives can be limited and distorted.
The woman’s life was shaped by both her pain
and the burdens others piled on her.
The synagogue leader’s life was shaped by rules, the law.
But Jesus invites them both, and us, into a broader perspective— to see people with love and compassion,
and to value restoration above rigid expectations.
How often do we let our fixed perspectives blind us
to what God is doing right in front of us?
How often do we become so entrenched in our own views
that we miss the heart of what God is doing?
This isn’t the first time God has called someone to a new way of seeing. Think of Jeremiah, who tried to define himself by limitation.
When Jeremiah said, “I am only a boy,”
God pushed back: “Don’t say you’re only. I formed you.
I consecrated you. I will be with you.”
And when Jesus saw this woman, similarly, he said:
“Don’t say you are only. Don’t believe that you are only what others label— only your pain, only your limits, only the weight others put on you. You are more—you are known, you are seen, you are free.”
Where we see limitation, God sees possibility.
Where we see rules, God sees restoration.
Where we see “I am only…,” God says, “No, you are mine.”
Today, Jesus is asking us to change our perspective.
He is inviting us to see beyond the surface,
beyond the rules and habits we so often cling to,
and to see people the way he sees them—
whole, cherished, and beloved.
Some experience freedom through physical healing;
others through the assurance of being fully loved—
made in God’s image.
Either way, Jesus calls us into God’s broad vision of dignity and compassion.
And as we do that, as we let God open our eyes and hearts to his broader vision, we’ll find ourselves unbound,
set free to live in the fullness of God’s love.
Not because we’ve done anything,
but because we’ve encountered a love that transforms,
a perspective that renews,
and a freedom that can only come
from seeing the world through God’s eyes.
And when we step into that freedom, we share Jeremiah’s calling too: to pluck up what weighs folks down,
to plant seeds of hope and healing,
to live out God’s vision of restoration.
May we step out of our limited perspectives
and into God’s expansive vision of dignity and compassion,
experiencing the freedom that only God can give. Amen.