As Jesus was leaving Jericho with His disciples and a large crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the road. When he heard that it was Jesus the Nazarene, he began to cry out, “Son of David, Jesus, have mercy on me!” Many people told him to be quiet, but he was crying out all of the more, “Have mercy on me, Son of David!” Jesus answered him, “What do you want Me to do for you?” “Rabbouni,” the blind man told Him, “I want to see!” “Go your way,” Jesus told him. “Your faith has healed you.” Immediately he could see and began to follow Him on the road. Mark 10:46-52 (selected)
My words…
Praise
I picture this scene in my mind: You, surrounded by people, hear a cry from someone in the crowd – a desperate cry, a scream. Bartimaeus didn’t know Your exact location on the road, but he had heard You were around, and he could hear the buzz of the crowd. There was always a crowd. “Shut up!” some yelled to the blind beggar. But he may as well have been deaf, too, for he refused to let You pass without making his presence known. He would have regretted it the rest of his life if he hadn’t snagged Your attention somehow. And he did. Then You asked him a question in which You already knew the answer. “What do you want from Me?” You gave him the privilege of answering a question posed by the Creator of space and time. The beggar was no longer just a part of a crowd. He was in relationship with the Son of God: Master Teacher (Rabbouni) to student. The teacher asked a question. The student answered. “I want to see!” It was an obvious, correct answer, for the beggar left the classroom with 20/20 vision and a lot more besides. I wonder how long he followed You around, proclaiming Your power in his life. It all sounds so fun to me. To see a life totally saved and the unbridled joy that followed. I imagine You laughed every time.
Prayer for me
I picture another scene in my mind: You and I, walking a path. I am troubled and blinded as to what I should do. You ask, “What do you want from Me?” I answer, “I want to see!” But nothing changes. The answers I am looking for do not miraculously appear. I didn’t get what I wanted. I had put my token in the machine, but nothing had popped out. I shake the machine, give it a kick, and walk away. What follows? Frustration. Impatience. Doubt. The machine’s on the fritz.
Oh, what a discontented, ungrateful daughter I am.
Forgive me
Forgive me when I allow base, worldly conclusions to float around my soul like a thick oil spill. Your plans for me, plans prepared before my conception, will withstand my petty tantrums, hands on hips, foot tapping. You would never allow my shallow demands, my entitled wants, to undermine Your lordship. My want for me may not be Your want for me. Forgive me when I attempt to push You aside so I can take over.
More praise
You are the Lord of my life. Your will reigns. It’s a shame that I have spent more time contemplating Your question, “What do you want from me?” I should have been posing my question to you, “What do You want from me?”
