You may remember these words from two weeks ago - "Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn both of us in the name of the LORD, saying, "The LORD shall be between me and you, and between my descendants and your descendants, forever." (I Sam. 20:42). Here was the descendant, and David had promised to take care of him. It was time to make good on his word. So David asked Ziba, several times, "Is there anyone remaining in the house of Saul to whom I may show kindness?"

The word for "kindness" in Hebrew is actually hesed. It is hard to find the best translation for the word in English. It involves both love and gracious commitment. It refers to the tender and unconditional love we receive from God - what the translators often translate as "steadfast love". It is not just a feeling - it is love demonstrated in committed action. It is much like the vow two people take to be married who promise to "love each other, in sickness and in sorrow, in plenty and in want, and so forth, til death do us part." David wants to know if there is anyone to whom he can be kind and lovingly committed as God had been to him. Ziba answered, "Just a cripple boy." David asked no questions. He asked, "Where is he?" He didn't need to know how or when or whether he deserved it. He just asked where he could find him.

That is the only question our kind, loving hesed God wants to know about you too. Where are you? He has not asked where you came from, or what happened to you, or who is to blame for your problems. He just wants to know, "Where are you so I can show you my kindness?"

Ziba didn't even mention the name of Mephibosheth. He just called him the lame son of Jonathan. It was as if the weakness had defined him. It was just like some today who insist on defining people by what we perceive to be their struggle or disability: "handicapped", "alcoholic", "divorced", "stupid". He told David that Mephibosheth was in a place called Lo-debar, which means a "place where there is no pasture." When our lives are defined by our weaknesses, we always end up in barren places.

For some like Mephibosheth, the weakness is a physical disability. They cannot walk, or see, or hear, or think clearly. For others the weakness is a disability of the spirit. They struggle with self-esteem, or self-doubts, or sexual orientation, or a need for alcohol or a drug. The person becomes so focused on this weakness that they cannot believe they are the pretty one, or the smart one, or most importantly, the beloved one of God. They have allowed their weakness to define them. We all have some weakness or disability. I think that is one reason why God puts disabled people in our midst - to remind us that they manifest what is true for all of us: we all are handicapped.

This was the day Mephibosheth had dreaded. He feared all of his life that the day would come when David would find him and rid himself of the last descendant of Saul. A knock came on the door. The royal messenger said that David wanted to see him. Mephibosheth must have thought this was his end. Can you see the drama of this scene as crippled Mephibosheth hobbles into the throne room to meet with the king. When he saw the king, the crutches went flying as this lame man fell on his face in front of the man he had feared all of his life.

To Mephibosheth's amazement, the King says, "Do not be afraid." There that phrase appears once again in Scripture. This time these words come to the lame and the weak -- to all you who fear the day when your weakness is exposed and everyone will know your handicap. Your anxiety about your weakness and its exposure makes life seem like a barren land. If only you could get rid of this one weakness in your life . . . . Well, God has sent his angelic messengers to those living in barren places, and they have said, "Fear not! I bring you glad to tidings of great joy." While Mephibosheth lay on the ground expecting David's sword to fall on his neck, David said to him, "Do not be afraid. I will show you kindness, tender hesed, for the sake of your father Jonathan."

When you are expressing love, actions must match the words. David not only says that he will love Mephibosheth, but he restores all of Saul's land to Mephibosheth so that he has income. He gives him a place at his royal table, so he has honor. He makes him part of his household, so that he has a home. He essentially adopts Mephibosheth, making him, as the text says, "like one of the king's sons." 

Like Mephibosheth, we all have fallen. Some of us have fallen into bad health, others into bad habits, and others into bad illusions about life. We all have fallen into sin. As a result, we are crippled and unable to walk out of the barren places where we find ourselves. We have fallen, and we can't get up. 

That is why it is so central to the Gospel that, in Jesus Christ, God has come looking for us. When He finds us, he does not punish us or destroy us because of our weakness. In his grace and loving hesed, he restores us and gives us a place at his banquet table. He adopts us into the King's family where we too are made the beloved ones of God. If that is so central to the Gospel, then it also has to be central to the ministry of the church.

I want to speak just for a moment about a special mission of the church. Our church has been blessed with the opportunity to minister and to be ministered to by those among us with physical or mental disabilities. For some reason, churches historically care for those who have fallen into grief over a loved one who has died, or for those who have fallen into despair, or addiction, or even sin. We know how to care for those with spiritual disabilities. But generally, we have not been so clear about our mission to those with physical or mental disabilities.

There are 54 million people in our country with physical or mental disabilities. Based on the last census, that is more than 19 percent of the population. Almost 20 percent of Americans suffer from some handicap that potentially threatens their quality of life and often cuts them off from jobs, community and even a home. Historically, the church has struggled to find a place at the table for one in five of us. I am not sure of all the reasons - perhaps it is that those with disabilities remind us of our own humanity, or perhaps it is because we are unsure what to say or do. Perhaps we do not think of it as the mission of the church. I would remind us that the Gospel does not separate physical and spiritual as we do, and Jesus himself spent a great amount of time with those who had physical disabilities.

It is time that we value those with disabilities as individuals created in the image of God, and we should do everything we can to remove the barriers that prevent them from full and active participation in our church. Our church is doing that, and I often thank God for how I see our congregation welcoming and involving those among us who are disabled. The greatest barriers we will continue to face in welcoming those with disabilities are not those of architecture but those of the heart.

The greatest barrier of all is that we want to think that people with disabilities are different. The reason we want to think that is because the disabled threaten us by revealing the disabilities in our own lives that we've been trying to hide. The politically correct don't even want me to use the word "disability." I think that is probably a huge step in the wrong direction for the church. We all are not "differently-abled" but we all are disabled. And we ought to have the courage to say that the church is exactly where the disabled belong. This is not true primarily because we are compassionate people, but because we all are disabled people too. Some of us have been cursed with the ability to hide it. Like Mephibosheth, we all have fallen or been dropped into something, and the hurt stays with us the rest of our lives.

We live in a society that has taught us to get rid of things that are broken. If something becomes old, or tattered, or totaled, we reason, "Just throw it out and get a new one." That too easily translates into thinking that people who are broken are a hassle. "She has a drinking problem. She's totaled. I don't have time for that." "He has a sexuality problem. That is too weird for me." "He has a physical handicap, and I don't know what to say or do with someone like that. I'm afraid I might say something stupid." So, we withdraw our friendship and restrict our fellowship, leaving the person in a barren land where they feel no one understands and no one cares.

In the recent movie Seabiscuit that I recommend without reservation, Tobey Maguire plays a wounded jockey who rides a horse with a disability. The movie shows how the disabilities of the jockey and the horse mirror each other. A wealthy California family purchases the wounded race horse, training him and taking a chance on his success. The jockey trains him into the finest race horse in the west. The jockey then becomes injured while training another horse, and the horse becomes injured again while training. The movie follows the horse and the jockey through the ordeal of finding the strength to race again despite their disabilities. Some believed that neither the horse nor the jockey would ever race again - but the owners believed that you don't throw away a life. Despite their disabilities, both the jockey and the horse find strength in each other's weaknesses, and they reemerge as a winning team despite the odds. Their weakness was their winning strength.

When we separate ourselves from our disability, be it ours or someone else's, we think we are severing ourselves from weakness to stay strong. Just the opposite is true. It is weakness mirrored with weakness that makes us strong. The gospel proclaims an open secret that strength is found in weakness. In the words of the Apostle Paul, the power of Christ is made perfect in weakness. Why? Because it is in our weakness that we become aware that we need a Savior. In the fourteenth chapter of Luke, Jesus describes his banquet hall as filled with "the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame." Why? Because these people know they need a Savior.

The goal isn't to avoid disability. The goal is to accept your disability and look for the Savior. Our disability is always the means for discovering the Savior's ability. There is something more important than being healed of your disability. It is to find that your God invites you into his home where he longs to share his inheritance with you and call you his Beloved. You are welcome at the table, no matter who you are. We all are part of a disabled community called the church, and God's kindness is abundant for our disabilities. Do not fear your disability, or the disability of others. Whenever we make room for Mephibosheth, we will discover that we have made room for Christ.