The Faith of the Paralytic
Author: Stan Guthrie
January 22, 2026
Reading through the first two chapters of Mark’s Gospel last week, I was struck by how very relational Jesus’ ministry was, right from the beginning. I will focus on one scene that carries special resonance for me: the healing of the paralyzed man (2:1-12).
The Greek word translated paralytic here is παραλυτικ?ς (paralytikos). It means “one suffering from paralysis,” “one whose limbs are loosened,” or “as if dissolved.” It connotes weakness, loss of muscular control, or inability to move normally.
Ancient medical vocabulary was symptom-based, not cause-based. So paralytikos could apply to anyone who had:
- Weak, stiff, or immobile limbs
- Loss of voluntary control
- One-sided or whole-body impairment
- Lifelong or chronic inability to walk
In other words, the term was much broader than a medical diagnosis of paralysis. It could describe almost anyone who couldn’t walk or move normally—perhaps someone like you, me, or someone you know and love.
The paralytic*, according to the text, had friends with him—four men who dug a hole in the roof and lowered him to Jesus (2:3-4). They evidently had been attracted by reports of the Lord’s miraculous powers (1:23-34, 40-45) and teaching (1:14-15, 38-39; 2:1-2).
The text says that the Lord sees their faith. Whose faith? Clearly, it begins with the friends who went out of their way and worked hard to bring the paralytic before Jesus, and He noticed. Their faith was awe-inspiring, so much so that it should cause us to wonder: Do we have such friends? And are we such a friend in bringing others to Jesus?
But can we also include the faith of the disabled man with their faith? I believe so. The grammar certainly allows for this, and in many Gospel accounts of Jesus healing someone, the faith of the recipient is featured prominently (see 10:52, for example). It is reasonable to assume that the paralytic, physically unable to come to Jesus on his own, was still exercising faith—perhaps in allowing his friends to bring him in such a public way. As someone who must at times rely on the strength and good will of others, I know that such faith can be humbling indeed.
Now when the Lord forgives the man’s sins before doing the healing, the scribes question his right to do so, correctly understanding that only God can forgive sins (2:6-7). Certainly, as others have said, this order was intentional. Jesus, through this miracle, is kindly pointing out to these critics that He has the both right and the power to do so because of His divine authority (2:8-12). Others have also said, rightly, that the Lord chooses to address the paralytic’s problems in order of their importance—first his sins, then his disability. No argument here.
But are we to understand this miracle as merely a divine calling card, a cold but irrefutable proof in an ancient courtroom drama? I think not.
Consider the fact that Jesus says to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven” (2:5). Jesus never wastes words. Why does he address the man like this, as His son? Only one other time does the Lord address someone directly as a “son” or “daughter”—when he heals the woman with an issue of blood (5:34).
As someone who sometimes struggles with a disability, I am struck by the Lord’s use of these powerful family terms for a man and a woman who quite possibly felt isolated, separated from the larger community, on account of their physical suffering.
Whatever had happened to them before, these precious but hurting people were now His son and daughter. Jesus thoughtfully and intentionally brings them into His family. And both were healed—pictures of the eventual health and fullness awaiting all who place their faith in Jesus and enter His relational kingdom.
What could be better than that?
* Mark 2 does not call the paralytic a man, but the parallel accounts do.
Stan Guthrie is Director of Outreach and Mobilization for New Covenant Church in Naperville, Illinois.
Image: Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
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