One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” – Luke 17:15-18
I stood there, watching as ten men, once outcasts, were given new life. Ten men who had suffered the agony of an incurable disease, whose skin bore the marks of isolation and despair, were suddenly free. Jesus had healed them, a miracle right before my eyes. I could barely breathe as I witnessed their transformation. Surely, they would all rush back to thank and honor Him, this wonderful man they called “Jesus.”
But as the moments passed, only one came back.
Just one.
And not just any one – the Samaritan – the one I least expected. The others, men who knew the Scriptures, who were familiar with the promises of God, simply went on their way. They were healed, yes, but they didn’t return to the One who had made it possible.
At first, I was totally shocked. How could they not come back? How could they forget so quickly the One who had just restored their lives? Then it occurred to me: While I wanted to identify with the one who returned, deep down, I knew my heart was more like the other nine who kept on going.
I started to remember all the times God had done something amazing for me, and how often I had just moved on. How easy it was to get caught up in the blessing and forget all about the Blesser. Like the nine, I had received God’s goodness and continued with my life unchanged, without a thought of returning to Him in heartfelt gratitude. I had taken His mercy for granted, failing to recognize that every good thing in my life is a gift from God’s own hand.
The Samaritan came back because he knew he didn’t deserve the healing. He knew that, in the eyes of many, he was an outsider, a foreigner, unworthy of grace. But maybe that’s what made his gratitude so pure – he understood the depths of the mercy he’d been shown.
As I stood there, humbled by the Samaritan’s example, I realized that I need to be more like him. I need to acknowledge the grace I’ve received, not just in the miraculous, but in the everyday. I need to cultivate a heart that remembers to return to God, to thank Him for what He’s done, to recognize His hand in my life.
Because the truth is, I’m no more deserving than the Samaritan. None of us are. And yet, God’s mercy reaches us, too. How can we not return to give Him the thanks He deserves? How can we appreciate the healing but not the Healer? How can we not fall at His feet in gratitude, knowing that every good thing we have comes from the Lord?
Today, I’m reminded that I don’t want to be among the nine who forget. I want to be the one who remembers.
I want to be the one who returns.
Former Blackout Artist 