MATTHEW, MARK, AND LUKE all tell the remarkable story of Jesus healing a paralyzed man. In Luke, the incident marks the first appearance of the scribes and Pharisees, who may have sent an official or unofficial delegation to Capernaum to scrutinize what Jesus was doing. Jesus was teaching to a packed house, and Luke tells the story in a way that suggests that these religious authorities—some even representing Jerusalem!—were sitting right there listening.

As people tried to concentrate on Jesus’ words, four men on top of the house began digging a hole through the roof so they could lower their paralyzed friend down to him on a mat. The air was probably thick with dust, but also anticipation, as people waited to see what would happen next. And then, Luke tells us, Jesus spoke:

When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” (Luke 5:20, NIV)

Jesus saw “their faith.” Whose faith? In the narrative, it’s primarily that of the four friends, though the paralytic himself must also have believed that Jesus could heal him. As I’ve suggested, the lengths to which the man’s friends were willing to go is evidence enough of their faith, of their certainty that Jesus could perform yet another healing miracle right there in Capernaum. (The homeowner might have hoped that Jesus could also heal the roof, but that’s another story.)

What should Jesus say in response to such faith? Does he say “You’re healed” or command him to get up and walk? Not yet. First, he tells the man that his sins are forgiven.

Wait…what?

Jesus will say this again in Luke 7 to a woman who already had a tarnished reputation. But here, there’s no suggestion that the paralyzed man was considered by others to be an egregious sinner. Nor is it necessary to take Jesus as saying that his paralysis was a punishment from God for some sin that Luke doesn’t name. So why does Jesus say this at all?

His words may be a little more surprising to us than they were to the people who first heard them. In the world of the modern West, we’re used to making firmer distinctions between the physical, social, and spiritual than they did. As with the leper Jesus healed just days before, restoration meant not only ridding the man’s body of disease but restoring him to the status of being ceremonially clean and returning him to his place in the community.

So when the scribes and Pharisees objected to Jesus’ words, it was on theological grounds, not philosophical. Luke writes:

The Pharisees and the teachers of the law began thinking to themselves, “Who is this fellow who speaks blasphemy? Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (vs. 21)

On the one hand, the scribes and Pharisees were right: only God has the authority to forgive sins. But on the other hand, they were also dead wrong. They were assuming that Jesus was a mere man and therefore committing blasphemy, a crime for which the punishment was death.

At this point in the gospel, however, they don’t speak those thoughts aloud. No matter. I imagine their reaction showed on their faces and in their body language: the raised eyebrows, the sharp intake of breath, the furtively exchanged glances that said, Did you just hear what I heard? Who does this guy think he is? Whether on the basis of such nonverbal signals, keen prophetic insight, or both, Jesus knows what’s in their hearts and calls them out on it:

Jesus knew what they were thinking and asked, “Why are you thinking these things in your hearts? Which is easier: to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up and walk’? But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the paralyzed man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” Immediately he stood up in front of them, took what he had been lying on and went home praising God. Everyone was amazed and gave praise to God. They were filled with awe and said, “We have seen remarkable things today.” (vss. 22-26)

This is the first time in Luke that Jesus identifies himself as the Son of Man; it’s his favorite and most frequent self-designation. On the surface, the phrase doesn’t have to mean anything more than just “human being.” But that’s what the scribes and Pharisees are already assuming. By using the name as a title, Jesus invests it with greater significance, probably drawing upon the imagery of the book of Daniel:

In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all nations and peoples of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed. (Dan 7:13-14)

Jesus is claiming to have the authority that the scribes and Pharisees deny. If he did nothing more than simply say that he had such authority, it would be his word against theirs. But to vindicate that claim in the sight of all, he did something harder. Not harder for Jesus; harder for the mere man the scribes and Pharisees assumed him to be. He did the healing miracle people expected him to do in the first place.

The healing, once again, was immediate and complete. The man got up as commanded and went his way rejoicing and praising God. No doubt there were hugs all around when his friends came down from the roof. And Luke says that “everyone” was amazed and awestruck and praised God as well.

Does “everyone” include the scribes and Pharisees who challenged Jesus’ authority to forgive sins? Perhaps. Some interpreters say yes, and some say no. And to be sure, there would be both friends and enemies, believers and detractors from among their ranks.

But the story anticipates the tension and conflict that will continue to grow between Jesus and his adversaries. Those with the eyes to see and the ears to hear would recognize the authority of God in the work of Jesus. Those without such basic faith? They were blind to their blindness, blind to their own need for forgiveness.