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Sunday, November 25, 2012

Joyful Pain


            This week I read about a blind man who wanted to see. Well, duh! Doesn’t everyone want to see? I’m not so sure.
            The blind beggar, whose story is recorded in Mark 10: 46-52, wanted Jesus’ mercy to be expressed through the healing of his sight. Bartimaeus was loud and wouldn’t be put off. He desperately wanted healing.
            Whenever I read a story like this, I’m in the crowd, I’m turning around to see who’s doing all the yelling, and I’m breathless waiting to see what Jesus will do. Then, bang! A dirty blind man in rags can now see the world around him. End of story. Amazing!
            It’s all that, but more. When Bart realized that Jesus had called him, he threw aside his cloak and jumped to his feet. His zeal was genuine, no lackadaisical attitude on his part. Yet when he stood in front of Jesus, Jesus asked a surprising question: “What do you want me to do for you?”
            Jesus, didn’t you know what the man wanted, since you knew what people thought? From a human standpoint, wouldn’t sight have been the first thing Bart would have wanted? Why did you even ask him such a thing?
            Jesus didn’t do anything frivolously, so this week I wondered about this exchange: “What do you want me to do for you?” and “Rabbi, I want to see.”
            Seeing involves pleasure and responsibility. If you can see, there are many things that you may enjoy, but you also become much more responsible than someone who has no sight. Bart couldn’t see to work. He had been a beggar. Sight made him able to work, able to be productive, and also raised the possibility of failure to find or succeed at work. He was willing to risk failure and a major change in life by being able to see.
            Even more than that, I contemplated this week what it may have cost him emotionally and spiritually to have his sight. No longer could Bart only be a part of the suffering of Jericho. Now he could hear and see the pain that he could only previously imagine and do little to change. I wonder if he was a little like the Tin Woodsman in The Wizard of Oz. He so wanted a heart, but then he learned that when you have a heart, it can break. No longer could Bart ignore or beg off because of sightlessness when it came to the pain of those around him.
            Sight has its price. Sometimes I’m not so sure I want to see. Usually I cover the front page of our daily newspaper. I don’t watch much news and only catch bits of the top stories of the day on the radio. That’s generally enough. Seeing is painful, and seeing may have been painful for Bart. I want to think it was a joyful pain, as mine usually is. When Bart saw for the first time, he saw Jesus, and that must have been worth everything.
            Apparently it was, for faith brought Bart sight, and it brings salvation and spiritual sight to anyone one who believes Jesus. Bartimaeus, the sighted, followed Christ along the road.  I envision him later serving those in pain in Jericho, as those who become sighted in Christ serve those lost and in pain in their lives.
           
           
            

2 comments:

  1. How true, with "sight" comes responsibility. However it seems that a lot of Christians walk around with blinders on, refusing to truly see those around them. Or if they do see them, they look through distorted glasses of judgment. I want to see like Bart did.

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  2. I agree. Maybe what we need to do is to ask God to help us see the world as he does. I don't pretend that that's easy. Seeing is exhausting--where do I work, who do I help? That's why I think sometimes Christians wear blinders, because a dying world is heartbreakingly draining. I'm convinced that God is willing to show us the world as he sees it and then to help us do what he wants us to do. That takes humility, prayer, patience, and all the other graces that the Spirit provides. I think that Bartimaeus finished his life serving the One who enabled him to see. Can we do less?

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