Luke 17:11–19
“Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
A few years ago, a community center in a small town began welcoming refugees who had fled war and persecution.
At first, many of the newcomers were invisible to the town. People passed them in the grocery store or on the street, but few spoke. Some assumed they didn’t understand, others were afraid, and a few simply didn’t know what to say.
Then a volunteer, a retired teacher named Maria, started taking a different approach. She remembered their names — not just “the family from Syria” or “the boys from Afghanistan,” but their names: Amir, Leila, Hassan. She asked about their favorite foods, their hopes for school, and their hobbies. She listened, and she remembered.
One afternoon, Amir, a quiet 12-year-old, approached her. His eyes were bright, and he whispered, “Thank you… no one has ever asked me who I am before.”
For the first time, he felt seen, not as a refugee, not as a statistic, not as someone to pity, but as a person. And in that simple act of recognition, trust and belonging began to grow. Families who had been invisible in their new community began to participate, to laugh, and to share their gifts with others.
On His way to Jerusalem, on the road that would eventually lead to the cross, Jesus passes through a borderland, a place “between Samaria and Galilee.”
That small detail tells us a lot. Jesus is walking the in-between places, not fully in one region or another, but on the edges where boundaries blur.
It’s there, in that borderland, that ten lepers cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
They keep their distance, as the law requires. Their disease has pushed them to the margins of society. But even from afar, they recognize something in Him, maybe hope, maybe power, maybe compassion.
And Jesus sees them. That’s where the miracle begins, not when they’re healed, but when they’re seen.
We live in a world full of invisible people: the overlooked, the forgotten, the ones the world would rather not notice.
One of the policies of slavery is to remove humanity from the enslaved. They are reduced to beings and not humans. Jews in the concentration camps were given numbers, tattooed on their arms rather than their names. Prisoners are given numbers on their uniforms rather than their names. The economically oppressed are referred to as “the poor” and not as humans. The unhoused, addicts, the mentally ill, minorities, and refugees are all given classifications rather than names.
My daughter is a fan of the movie Wicked. On the way to school, we often listen to the soundtrack, and I have become quite familiar with the songs. What I have learned is that very frequently, buried inside the song is a lesson.
The Wicked Witch is different from everyone else; she is green. She is taunted, made fun of, and excluded. In the original Wizard of Oz, we do not even know her name; she is simply the Wicked Witch. We have no sympathy for her; she was bad, and she deserved that house falling on her.
But in Wicked, she has a name, Elphaba. She has hopes and dreams, but the others taunt her.
In one song, “No one Mourns the Wicked,” Glinda, the good witch, asks if people are born wicked or if they have wickedness thrust upon them. She says after all, she had a mother and a father…”
No one is born wicked. No one is born hating others. No one is born wanting to kill people just because they are different or we disagree. No, hatred, wickedness, supremacy, exclusion, these are all learned traits; we are all victims of our environment.
If we remove humanity, and what is more basic than someone’s name, we start to believe they are not human, allowing us to do what we wish with them and to them. We can deny them the rights we have because, well, those are human rights, and “these” are not human.
Often, they are called animals and treated as such. We strip away their dignity. Provide only what is needed to keep them alive. House them in warehouses and keep their families away. We put them in cages just like we do with animals at the zoo.
And then we look away. We all do it. None of us wants to face the reality of how ur fellow human beings, created in the image and likeness of God, are treated.
But Jesus always sees the lepers, the blind, the beggars, the child.
And when He sees, He restores dignity. He gives them back a face, a name, a place.
Healing begins not just when the body is restored, but when someone feels seen, valued, and loved.
That’s why ministry, your ministry, our ministry, always begins with attention. To truly see another person is to honor the image of God in them.
Jesus tells the ten, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”
I want you to notice something: Jesus doesn’t heal them first. He sends them on their way, and as they went, they were made clean.
Their healing happens on the journey.
Sometimes faith looks exactly like that, walking forward even before we see the outcome. Trusting that God is already at work while we’re still in motion.
Many of us want assurance before we take the first step. But often, the assurance comes after we’ve obeyed. Faith isn’t standing still waiting for proof; it’s taking the next step because we believe in the One who sends us.
Yesterday, I had the honor of ordaining one of my fellow fire chaplains to the ministry. In the sermon I preached, I told him, “But remember this: the same Spirit who called you today will walk beside you every step of the way. I also told him, “The One who calls you is faithful and will not leave you alone.”
Again, I want you to notice something. Of the ten healed, only one turns back to give thanks, and he’s a Samaritan.
The Jews despise Samaritans; they are different, they are enemies, they are foreigners, religious outsiders, and the least expected to come back.
He falls at Jesus’ feet, praising God in a loud voice.
And Jesus says, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?”
Let’s be clear about something: Jesus doesn’t revoke the healing of the nine. Jesus does not berate them and require them to come and show gratitude. Their bodies are still restored. But this one, the grateful one, receives something more. Jesus says to him,
“Your faith has made you well.”
Or more literally, “Your faith has saved you.”
The nine received physical healing.
The one who returned found wholeness. And in this one action, this healing of the cast-off Jesus is saying that we are to love everyone without exception. We love and honor their humanity because when we do, we honor our own humanity, and we do not let wickedness overcome us.
Gratitude doesn’t just say “thank you,” it deepens our relationship with the giver.
The Samaritan’s healing becomes complete because he returns to the source, to the heart of grace, and gives glory to God.
Gratitude transforms healing into wholeness and blessing into relationship.
In a culture that often prizes self-sufficiency, this story reminds us that gratitude keeps us grounded in grace. Everything we have, our breath, our health, our relationships, our calling, is a gift.
And when we live in gratitude, we become more aware of the presence of God that surrounds us in every ordinary moment.
So, what does this mean for us?
It means that our worship, our service, our giving, all of it, is a returning.
When we come to church, we’re turning back, like that Samaritan, to say, “Thank you, Lord.”
When we care for the hurting, we’re turning back to say, “Thank you for your mercy.”
When we sing, when we pray, when we serve, we are responding in gratitude for what Christ has already done.
We are the ones who have been seen, cleansed, restored, and loved beyond measure.
The story ends with Jesus and the grateful leper face-to-face, one Samaritan, one Savior, two hearts joined by gratitude and grace.
So today, may we be like that one.
May we never take for granted what God has done for us.
May we walk in faith even before the healing is complete.
May we always see the other as a human, loved by God, and treat them that way.
And when mercy finds us, as it surely will, may we turn back, fall at the feet of Jesus, and live lives that say, “Thank you.”
For gratitude is not only the response to grace, it is the way we stay close to the One who gave it.
Amen
