“Running With Thanks”
Original sermon given on Sunday, October 12, 2025 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
Watch the sermon live.
“Running With Thanks”
—Luke 17.11-19
In the name of the Living God and the risen Christ. Amen.
There’s a lot of people on the move this morning. Of course, the thousands who have run past our church for one of Chicago’s great annual events. (Including our own April Szymanski!) Thanks to those who were able to come early and lead the FSP cheer team!
But in fact, I mean a lot of people on the move in today’s gospel reading from Luke 17. This is the well-known account of the Ten Lepers — all equally afflicted, all equally healed, yet only one returning with thanksgiving.
As this is “let’s get moving” Sunday in Chicago, as I re-read this account I was struck by the different movements in the story.
Firstly, Jesus is on the move — on his way to Jerusalem betwixt Galilee and Samaria. We don’t know precisely where this miracle took place, but we know it was a mixed region of Jews, Gentiles, and Samaritans. No longer in the Jewish cultural and religious enclave of Galilee, our Lord now enters into the border lands. He travels through the “messy middle” where not all are alike religiously, politically, and culturally. Yet we see clearly from this account that Jesus’ healing and life-restoring power remains active for all. It knows no bounds or boundaries. It fears not the “messy middle.” His power and love are such that even the “in between,” uncertain, untidy places cannot hold him back.
This is not just geographically significant. It is theologically significant and personally significant. Think of it this way: if the Lord Jesus could work in the “messy middle” between Samaria and Galilee, maybe that means he can “get moving” in the “messy middle” of my life too. Maybe my life is not too messy, unclear, uncertain for this Lord of life, the savior Jesus. And, maybe also as his forgiven, healed, baptized body, we can also without fear “get moving” beyond the safety zones and into the danger zones of life, in love and service to others.
The second group on the move in this account are the ten leproi / lepers. They get moving towards Jesus, but yet remain at a distance. This would be perfectly understandable in their day, as the Levitical law prohibited them from drawing near to others, while also requiring a dramatic announcing of their presence: “Unclean! Unclean!” we’re told they would shout. We don’t know the particulars of their disease — this was a general term for a number of skin afflictions — but we know its effects. They are religiously, socially, and culturally pariahs — impure, unworthy, and untouchable. They get moving towards Jesus but must remain at a distance so as to not defile the clean rabbi with their uncleanness.
How much they know about who this Jesus is, we can’t be sure. But they call him “master” and believe he can deliver mercy. Their voices cry out as one for mercy, for they are in a sense all one together. Like one unclean, cancerous lump, is this 10-fold lump of humanity. We don’t know their wealth, their education background. They are united in two ways. One, in their suffering. Whatever had previously divided them is unimportant because they are all leproi together — and two, they are united in their one cry to Jesus, the master, for mercy.
May these two great equalizers unite us as well. What divides us by background, color, culture, wealth, education, politics, or personalities is not nearly as important as what unites us. We are also all equally enmeshed by sin and the effects of sin — all equally unclean untouchables before God — and yet we are all here this morning, equally crying out with one voice to Jesus, the master of mercy.
Movement # 1: Jesus. Movement # 2: Ten Lepers.
Movement # 3: this healing is noteworthy because it’s clear they were not immediately cured. Jesus does not pronounce an instantaneous healing upon them, but rather as they took Jesus at his word and obeyed him, the healing took place. It’s a “moving miracle” so to speak. Moving because it touches our hearts but moving also because the miracle happens en route. On the run, so to speak. Although the power is all in the master of mercy, they first must believe and obey. “Go, show yourselves to the priest.” And the text is very clear, “and it happened while on their way they were cleansed.” Often in the gospels, the miracle happens first, and then the healed get moving. In this case, the movement made the miracle. That is, they first believed and trusted and obeyed the master of mercy. They had to get moving — and then the miracle occurred.
Isn’t that the case, sometimes in our Christian walk? Maybe we spend too much time sitting around waiting for the miracle, but the Lord says, “Trust me. Go. Get moving, and the miracle will come.”
They get moving all the way to the priests. Showing their healed bodies to the religious authorities was the final stop in their full restoration to the community. The priests functioned as a kind of “quality control” or “health inspector” in that culture. Presenting themselves before the priests would serve as a witness — they would serve as living witnesses, their cleansed, healed, restored lives from that day on would give testimony to the master of mercy. Evey meal they shared; every loved one they hugged; every handshake, every meaningful task of work or service or worship now only possible because of the cleansing power of Jesus. Their bodies, their lives, became their witness.
And yet only one returns. This is the final, fourth moment of motion in the text. “One of them… seeing that he has been healed, returns with a great voice glorifying God.” They all lived together in misery — with one voice they shouted out together for mercy — but here this one shouts out alone in thanksgiving. We find him running with thanksgiving, and then falling upon his face at Jesus’ feet, as if nothing could hold him back. How could they not all return with thanksgiving, we might say? What journey is too far to travel, what shout too strong in praise, what gift too large to give, what song too beautiful to sing in thanks to the master of mercy?
Jesus words in response to “the one” are a combination of exasperation and exhortation: “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” All were equally afflicted. All equally cried for mercy. All equally healed. All equally restored. Yet only one runs back with thanksgiving. The Samaritan, the “half breed, heretic, hater” in their world, the one least likely to return and recognize Jesus — he recognizes not just the gift, but the giver; not just the healing, but the healer; not just the salvation but the savior himself.
On this “let’s get moving Sunday,” our worship carries all the motions of this gospel. We’re moving this morning too in the Divine Service. Jesus first comes to us, entering even into our “messy middles” — regardless of who we are — amid all the unclear, unclean complexities of our lives. # 2: We approach him here — perhaps some of us still remain at a safe distance from Jesus, not wanting to get too close, too ashamed of our own sin or afraid of what he’ll find when he sees us up close. We all cry out to him for mercy — with one voice. We are all equally healed and restored by the gospel. His cross forgiving us, pouring out healing and mercy like no one else and nothing else can do, cleansing us. # 3: We all equally move out into the world as living witnesses to that salvation, in the various callings of our lives. But # 4, may we also run continually back to him with thanksgiving, falling at his feet. If for no other reason, we run to this place giving thanks, recognizing not just the gift, but the giver; not just the healing, but the healer; not just the salvation but the savior.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.