There’s a moment in Scripture that captures something profound about who Jesus is—and it happens in a synagogue with a man who’s ashamed of his own hand.

But before we go there, let’s set the stage: we all face something. Stress, shame, anxiety, fear, sin—our stories differ, but the burdens feel familiar.

What if the message we most needed to hear wasn’t about the weight we carry, but about the One who carries us?

Jesus is greater.

Not just greater in theory. Greater in a deeply personal, deeply practical way. Greater than the worst you’ve done. Greater than the pain you’re in. Greater than the mountain in front of you.

Jesus Meets Us Right Where We Are

In Matthew 12, Jesus enters a synagogue and sees a man with a withered hand. Culturally, this man would’ve been seen as cursed. Jewish tradition often linked deformity or illness with divine punishment. His hand was more than a physical issue—it was likely his greatest shame.

But Jesus didn’t avoid him. He didn’t make the man wait until he got “better.” Instead, Jesus told him, “Stretch out your hand.”

It’s a stunning picture of how Jesus operates. He meets us right where we are. In our mess. In our shame. In the place we’d rather hide.

Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death…” But the verse doesn’t stop there. It continues: “…but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

That comma changes everything. If it ended at death, we’d be stuck. But grace puts a comma where we expected a period.

Grace Feels Offensive When Hearts Are Hard

Not everyone was amazed by the miracle. The Pharisees were angry. Not because Jesus healed—but because He did it on the Sabbath. According to their interpretation of the law, healing wasn’t allowed unless a life was at risk.

But Jesus flips the conversation. He asks them, “If you had a sheep fall into a pit on the Sabbath, wouldn’t you lift it out?” Of course they would.

Then He says, “How much more valuable is a person than a sheep?”

Jesus isn’t just exposing hypocrisy—He’s revealing their hardened hearts.

When our hearts are hard, grace feels like a threat. It challenges our pride, our systems, our control. For those clinging to religious routine, grace felt offensive.

I used to feel that way. Before I came to faith at 22, I had plenty of encounters with the Gospel. And I often thought, “Who are you to tell me there’s only one way to God?” I pushed back hard on the idea that Jesus was the only way—because my heart was hard.

But grace breaks through.

There’s Only One Way—and That’s Good News

John 14:6 says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

That used to sound exclusive—maybe even unfair. But now I see it as incredibly hopeful.

Because without Jesus, there wouldn’t be any way at all.

None of us are good enough on our own. None of us can work our way into perfection. Isaiah 64:6 says our righteousness is like “filthy rags.” Even our best efforts fall short.

But Jesus didn’t ask us to measure up. He offered to take our place.

The perfect Son of God lived a sinless life, died a sacrificial death, and rose again—so we could be clothed in His righteousness.

We don’t earn it. We receive it.

Jesus Is Greater Than Every System and Every Story

Let’s step back and look at what Jesus was redefining that day.

  • Greater than the temple: The temple was a place. Jesus is God with us.
  • Greater than the Sabbath: The Sabbath offered rest for a day. Jesus offers rest for the soul.
  • Greater than King David: David ruled with power. Jesus rules with mercy—and is the King of kings.
  • Greater than the priests: They offered annual sacrifices. Jesus became the final, complete sacrifice.
  • Greater than religion: Religion says “do.” Jesus says “done.”

In every comparison, Jesus comes out not just better, but greater. He replaces stone with Spirit. Rules with relationship. Distance with closeness.

He’s not a teacher offering advice. He’s a Savior offering rescue.

You Are That Man With the Withered Hand

Back to the man in the synagogue.

He had a choice that day: stay silent and hidden—or stretch out what he’d rather keep hidden.

And he chose to stretch it out.

That’s when healing happened. That’s when restoration came.

That’s us. We all have a “withered hand.” Something broken. Something we’re ashamed of. Something we hide.

But Jesus invites us to bring it into the light—not to expose us, but to heal us.

Your past isn’t too broken. Your secret isn’t too ugly. Your heart isn’t too hard. If you stretch it out, Jesus will meet you there.

We’ll Never Be Greater Sinners Than He Is Savior

This is the kind of Savior Jesus is: One who carries our sin and shame on Himself. One who sees our worst and still offers us His best.

It’s finished. The work is done. “Tetelestai”—Jesus’s final word on the cross—means “It is finished.” That’s not just a theological concept. That’s personal.

When we say yes to Him, our sin is nailed to that cross. Our shame is covered. Our debt is paid.

So when God looks at us, He doesn’t see our mess. He sees His Son.

He sees redeemed. He sees righteous. He sees restored.

This Is Your Moment

Jesus is still doing what He did in that synagogue.

He’s still walking into places of shame and inviting people to stretch out their pain. He’s still healing. He’s still restoring. He’s still calling people to rest.

He’s still standing at the door—knocking.

Not demanding, not forcing—but inviting.

And this invitation is for you. Whether you’ve never taken that step, or whether you’ve followed Him for years but still carry silent shame.

Open the door.

There is no burden greater than Jesus. He is greater.

Jeff Evans
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