Standing tall in the grace of Christ
Sermon by Pr. Sharai Jacob on the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost + Sunday, August 24, 2025.
In today's Gospel reading, we find ourselves in a synagogue on the Sabbath. The place is filled with familiar sounds—quiet footsteps, whispered greetings, and the rustling of robes. It is the weekly rhythm of worship, a rhythm that for generations has brought God's people into sacred rest and reflection.
But this Sabbath is different. There is a guest preacher—Jesus of Nazareth. Word has spread that he speaks with power, heals with authority, and sees what others miss. And in the crowd is a woman… a woman whose life has been marked by pain and quiet exclusion.
Luke tells us that this woman had been bent over for eighteen years. Unable to stand up straight.
Now imagine that. Eighteen years.
We can assume she was in chronic pain, which is more than physical suffering. It can cause brain fog, depression, lethargy, irritability. It wears a person down emotionally and mentally. It isolates.
And it wasn't just her body that was bent. Over time, the weight of her condition may have bent her spirit too.
During that time, and throughout history — even today — a visible disability often meant social exclusion. You could be ignored, treated as less than, seen as spiritually suspect or simply inconvenient.
Maybe you've felt something like that. Maybe not from a disability, but from the weight of grief, anxiety, shame, or depression. Maybe you've felt this through microagressions - those small moments when someone, usually without realizing, says or does something to “other” you. Some of us understand that feeling of being on the margins… of being in the room, but not really seen.
Now, to be fair, it’s possible this woman had a supportive faith community. She was present at synagogue. But even loving communities can, with the best intentions, still leave people feeling different, isolated, out of place.
And then… Jesus sees her.
He’s in the middle of teaching. But he stops. He notices her.
She hasn’t called out. She hasn’t asked for healing. Maybe after so many disappointments, she wasn’t even hoping for much anymore.
But Jesus leans in. He bows his head to meet her eye. And then he speaks to her directly.
“Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”
And he lays his hands on her.
And something incredible happens. Luke says she immediately straightened up and began to praise God.
As Jesus took a moment to meet her, to connect with her, he was beginning to remind of her of her true identity.
He later calls her “Daughter of Abraham.” Jesus is giving her a name. A place. A title of honor. She belongs. She’s part of the covenant. She is not forgotten.
This wasn’t just a healing—it was a reclaiming of her true identity as a child of God, made in God's image. An equal.
At that moment, the synagogue leader speaks up, and his voice is full of frustration. “There are six days for work. Come and be healed on those days—not on the Sabbath.”
Now before we rush to judgment, let’s understand where he’s coming from.
He is trying to uphold the Sabbath—a sacred gift given by God, commanded in the Torah. The Sabbath was meant to be holy, a day set apart. And healing was considered “work” by some interpretations. So in his eyes, Jesus is violating something sacred.
Jesus’ answer doesn’t reject the Sabbath or even reject the synagogue leader. Jesus is participating in debate for the interpretation of scripture. It is through debates like these that the synagogue leader would have learned much of what he believed. Even today, being open to the many interpretations of scripture allows us to see deeper and appreciate the complexity of God's Word.
“You untie your ox or donkey on the Sabbath and lead it to water, don’t you? Ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day?”
This is a profound moment.
Jesus is saying: The Sabbath is the perfect day for healing. The best day to be set free.
Because Sabbath isn’t just about rest—it’s about restoration. About liberation. About aligning with the heart of God.
At this point, Jesus and the synagogue leader have revealed more about the Sabbath. That it can be a day for setting people free. When they hear this, the entire crowd rejoices. The woman had praised God on her own. Had come to hear Jesus alone. She may have felt alone in her struggles for 18 years. But, today the community joins her in rejoicing and praise.
This moment is not just as a one-time miracle—but it is linked to a common thread in Jesus’ whole ministry, especially in the book of Luke.
Earlier in Luke 4, Jesus read from Isaiah in his hometown synagogue: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free…”
And then he said: “Today, this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” And now, here in Luke 13, that promise is being fulfilled—again.
This woman, once bent over, her head low, her spirit broken, is now standing strong in her identity and testifying to the goodness of God.
Can you picture her?
After eighteen years. Looking around the room. Seeing people eye to eye for the first time in almost two decades.
She had gotten used to seeing the world from below. From the corners. From the sidelines.
But now she sees it as it really is—as God intended for her to. A world she is expected to take up space in.
So, what about us? Who are the people we overlook because it's too uncomfortable for us to really see them? What assumptions do we carry about people’s worth based on what we do see—or think we see?
Jesus' call to us is to remind one another, and especially those who are overlooked, that we are all equal in Christ. That we all deserve to be welcomed into community and reminded of our identity as God's children.
And maybe you’re someone who feels bent over. Worn down by never ending pain you see in the world? Maybe you are weary after years of facing discrimination? Maybe you feel weighed down by shame, isolation, or self doubt.
Hear the good news:
Jesus sees you and knows your name. You are a child of God, and you are worth rejoicing over.
May the Lord who sees you, who lifts you, who restores you,
walk with you as you go.
May you go in the joy of the Kingdom—
standing tall in the grace of Christ.
Amen.