Reflection on Luke 5:12-16
“If you want to, you can cure me.” Jesus replied, “Of course I want to! Be cured.”
Years ago, during a retreat by a lake, we were each given a stone and asked to reflect on something we needed to release—fear, pain, or doubt. We walked to the water, named our burden silently, and dropped the stone. As the stone disappeared and ripples spread across the surface, I felt an unexpected lightness. It wasn’t just about letting go but also creating space for something new—a gift waiting to be embraced.
In Luke 5:12-16, the leper carries his burden to Jesus, daring to hope. His words, “If you want to, you can cure me,” reflect both vulnerability and trust. Jesus’ response, “Of course I want to! Be cured,” reveals God’s unconditional love and desire for our healing. With a touch, Jesus restores not only the man’s body but also his dignity and belonging.
The act of dropping a stone into water mirrors this moment. The stone represents what we hold onto—fears, shame, doubts—while the water symbolizes God’s open heart, ready to receive and transform. As the stone sinks, the ripples remind us that letting go isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of renewal and grace.
What stones are you carrying? Let Jesus’ words echo: “Of course I want to!” As you let go, make room for the gifts of God—healing, freedom, and belonging. And just as ripples expand outward, so does God’s transformative love, calling you to live unburdened, whole, and renewed.
SONG OF LETTING COME
O Sacred One, who breaks the bread,
teach us to be broken too,
to split the shell, to share the core,
to let love’s light shine through.
Unseal the heart, unbind the soul,
that fears to show its face.
May we, in tender vulnerability,
reflect Your endless grace.
We let go now, O Patient Lord,
of judgments held too long,
of cynic’s doubts, of trembling fear —
replace them with love’s song.
As wheat is crushed to make the loaf,
and grapes are pressed for wine,
break us open, shape our hearts,
till they beat in rhythm with Thine.
We are the beloved, called to give,
to nourish and to share,
to live as bread, poured out in love,
Your presence everywhere.
So, take us, bless us, break us, send —
in You, we are made whole.
O Bread of Life, O Love unending,
claim our hearts, our soul.
We let go now, O Patient Lord,
of judgments held too long,
of cynic’s doubts, of trembling fear —
replace them with love’s song.
As wheat is crushed to make the loaf,
and grapes are pressed for wine,
break us open, shape our hearts,
till they beat in rhythm with Thine.