New Thoughts (06/27/08-06/29/08)
More and more, I am finding that the great question that needs asking as I see Jesus in action is not what He does, but why. Particularly here in Mark’s account, where the focus is so much upon the acts, the things He does, curious though they are at times, are insignificant if that’s as far as they go. If my curiosity is satisfied by seeing what He did and seeing that He apparently used spit pretty regularly in this healing ministry, what have I got? Perhaps I’ve got the foundation for a pretty baseless ministry. I see this repetition and come to the conclusion that if I would have a healing ministry, I must spit upon each one who comes to me. The power is in the spit! Let the word go forth! It is obviously a pretty short-sighted reaction to have, yet so often we set our religious course on as little or less reason.
No, what is interesting here is not how Jesus healed that man, the particulars by which He chose to work the miracle. The interesting aspect is why. Why did He do it at all? There had been sufficient healings, and there would be other blind men to bless with sight. This guy hadn’t even been blind from birth, as certain others would prove to have been. If we are going to consider those details which the Holy Spirit saw fit to have recorded for our benefit, it is in the why of those details that we shall derive our benefit, not in simply seeing what was done and aping it in our own practices.
Oh! I shall have to stop for today shortly, but let me just touch on this point briefly! Most of us would not, in reality, read this account and decide to go spit on sick people in hopes of healing them. Some, I suppose, might do so, but most of us would not. We would realize that this is but one of a myriad ways that Jesus did what He did. The power was not in the spit, or in any other of those methods He used. The power was in Him, in God, and there it still remains and abides. We understand this. We do our best to abide in that truth. And yet, we will decide that what the apostles did was somehow in another category. We have read that the elders applied oil to the sick as they prayed, and that many were thereby healed. Suddenly, we have it in mind that we must oil every sick person and pray for him, as though the power was ever in the oil!
We decide that we must pray with great care to include certain phrasings, combine this with certain specific ritualized gestures, else our prayers will be ineffective. I don’t even know where one might seek to find any vague Biblical support for these notions and yet they are prevalent. Why? How can we be so sort of acuity as to suppose that the sorts of rituals and formulas that belong to the worlds of paganism and magic have any application to the True God? How dare we insult Him so! Seems to me that He has made Himself clear on that point – exceedingly and abundantly clear. Do not pray like the pagans pray. Do not think to impress God by your non-stop stream of empty words. He is not a demon that He needs to be contained by some incantation. He is not a titan with frivolous passions that you need flatter him to turn aside any chance he may feel insulted by you. No! He is the Just God, the Righteous God, the Good God, the True God. He will do what is right because He Is what is right. He could no more lash out in mindless passion than He could cease to be Himself.
What moves God, much like what needs to be observed in this passage, is not what we do and say and think, but why. It’s the motivation. It’s the heart of the matter. You pray long and hard. That’s wonderful, but why? You are kind to the poor. This is commendable, to be sure, but why? Are you doing it out of some sense of guilt, or a belief that if you will not do such works, you will not be let in? Or, are you doing it from a deep-seated compassion, that moves you to do everything in your power in support of life’s victory over death? Are you praying because it seems like a requirement? Because it’s expected of you? To keep up appearances? Do you go on because you want folks to hear what great prayers you can compose? Or, perhaps, like those Baal worshipers of old, you feel some need to keep up your noise lest God was distracted by other matters when first you began. Look. Five earnest words in prayer, even two, will touch God more deeply than hours of eloquent prose with no real involvement of belief.
So I return to wondering at the why of this event. It occurs to me this morning that the whole thing echoes the situation of God’s people. At the time it was Israel. This was a people who had not been born spiritually blind. In earlier years they had known the Law as law and had pursued obedience to that Law as best they could. But, something had happened, and it was as if somebody had blown smoke at them. They could no longer see the Truth to recognize it. It was not a physical blindness in their case, but a mental blindness, a spiritual blindness, a developed incapacity for seeing things from God’s perspective. Now, there walked among them the Light of heaven, setting souls afire, and wherever that fire took hold, true vision was being restored. It might not have been an immediate thing, but the Light of Life is patient. He kept on working with those who were recovering until their restoration was complete.
This same image easily fits my own life. There are those periods, even since rebirth, where the soul becomes dull, the vision of God’s perspective grows dim, perhaps even being lost for a time. It is not, to be clear, that a danger of salvation lost was developing, for that salvation is really not mine to lose. It remains in the hands of the One Who gave it, and He is Faithful. But the eyes of my spirit were blinded, surrounded by the smoke of rationalizations and deceptions of the heart. Fortunately, as I already said, He is Faithful. The Redeemer comes with fire and burns away the smoke. He touches, and restores the sight of heaven. Yet, even then, I see that there is a process that must be endured. It is not an instantaneous preparedness for life in heaven. It is a clearing away, a thinning of that smoke, so that vision comes in part. We see dimly, the apostle writes, as in a dusty mirror. Our vision is obscured by the smoke of living. But the day will come when we see Him as He truly is, with eyes cleared of every distortion of sin, souls cleared of every last vestige of sin.
We have the old adage that where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I should have to say that in this case, we are being given to understand that however true that may be, where there’s fire, it is certain that the smoke will eventually come to an end, its source consumed. Where the fire burns pure and perfect, we know full well that even though the fuel remains, no smoke is found. Smoke is not so much evidence of fire as evidence of mixture. Something is out of balance, not enough air, wet wood, something. Something is lacking, or something is more in evidence than it ought to be. The old man remains mixed with the new, so the fire does not burn as it ought, and the smoke pours out of us. Yet, even with that, the things that have caused the smoke will certainly be consumed by the fire. When one or the other is gone, it shall be found that the Fire remains. The day will surely come when the Fire of heaven has finally burned away every last ounce of spiritual dross in us. The day will come when the last ashes of sin have blown away on the fresh wind of the Spirit. However dark, however hazy it is today, the Sun will eventually burn through. The overcast will disperse. Hope remains for every man and woman who has been found in Christ, for the future lies in His perfect and perfectly capable hands.
This is the powerful image that lies behind this parable in deeds. Jesus, we ought remind ourselves, taught always with parables. It strikes me that He did not restrict Himself to using the parabolic method in His oral teaching, but that He extended this powerful teaching tool to His entire life. He lived as a parable. As I was listening to R.C. Sproul’s most recent tape of the month, he was pointing out that the parable, powerful though it is as a means of making a point clear and memorable, was also a tool by which the point was obscured for those not given to understand.
Do you see, then, the parable unfolding in this action? The touch comes, and in what strikes me as a somewhat unexpected way. But, the patient is receptive, not put off by the unorthodox practice, not taking insult. So, the Physician asks if he sees anything. There is a beginning of sight, and the mind behind the eye can associate what is seen now with things remembered from when vision was clear. Yet, it is clear to the patient that his vision, though better than it was just moments before, is far from what it ought to be. Only the continued attentions of the Physician restore it in full.
It is a parable, to be sure, of each man’s redemption, and the working out of our salvation. It is also quite an image for the development of the Church, the reformation of the Church. There have been several points of reformation. We may think of them as times of revival, but they really are matters of reformation. They come for the very simple reason that the Church has lost her way, become blind, and the Restorer must come, the Physician’s touch is called for once again. Sight must be restored, memory of what the Church is supposed to be about, what the citizen of heaven is supposed to be like, must be called back before the mind’s eye.
I wonder how excited we would be at the thought of revival if we understood more clearly what made revival necessary. I think we tend to look at revival in terms of its effect on those outside the church. Oh, for ourselves, we’d love to experience the excitement, the thrill of an open heaven and all that. Charismatics that we are, there’s something about that abandon that seems to fill folks at a revival that we want to experience. It scares us and calls to us all at the same time. But, if we call for revival, it is generally clothed in terms of saving the lost. Oh, yes, Lord! By all means come, overturn this city. Let every man and woman come to a saving knowledge of You! Let this nation once more deserve the mantle of being a Christian nation. But all of this is nothing but turning away from our own complicity in the problem.
The problem is not the lost world outside. It is the lost church inside. If the church were not lost, blind, and stumbling toward a cliff, there would be no need for reformation. If the church were firm in her understanding and fully committed to her proper purpose, what is there that calls for reform? Reform is not novelty. It is not something new for the sake of newness. Indeed, it is something old. It is something so old as to have been all but completely forgotten, and it is only our forgetfulness that makes it seem new.
This was the story as Jesus traveled and ministered around Galilee. What He was teaching wasn’t new. It was older than Israel. It was the same Truth that Moses had taught, the same Truth that Abraham had glimpsed, the same Truth that held Job through his every trial. But, intervening generations had so obscured that Truth that no man could see it anymore. An understanding of that which lay at the roots of Pharisaism and its traditions gives us cause to respect these men. Their intentions were, at least at the outset, laudable. If this is the boundary between obedience and sin, let us set such a fence around it that we need never fear even approaching it. This is what lies behind all that whole web of rules. Stay so far away from the line that one can live with a clean conscience. This is what lies behind the traditions that continue today; things like never writing out the name of God, always remaining at least one letter short of the full, lest by writing His Name, we accidentally, unintentionally use it in vain, in a fashion demeaning of His glory.
The original intent is laudable, but the results are laughable. As time goes on, the results are no longer laughable, they are lethal. What begins as foibles takes on the weight of moral law, becomes of greater concern than those sins against which we sought to protect ourselves. We become so caught up in avoiding any breach of our social mores that we lose sight of what real sin is. The power of righteousness is lost to us and, quite frankly, lost on us. Should a truly righteous man (could such be found) walk into our company, we should find him curious, perhaps offensive. But we should hardly take note of his righteousness, for it does not take our habits into account. Enter Jesus. Enter Reformation. Either the eyes must be cleared, or the blind given up on. Either the Church must regain its senses or it must be rejected utterly.
We who live with the limitations of the flesh are not fit judges of that line. For us, it must be unsafe to proclaim any least part of the body of the Church as beyond redemption. We ought, really, to know that in Christ there is no man and no group that is beyond His power to redeem. Had it been to His purpose to save all Israel at His first incarnation, nothing prevented Him from doing so. Had it been to His purpose to prevent the Fall which started all our troubles, nothing could have stopped Him. He is All and in all!
We rejoice to cry out with Paul, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Rightfully so! It strikes me, thought, that the reverse is equally true, if not personally applicable. If God is against us, who can be for us? If He has truly abandoned us to our sins, as is assuredly the case with many, then no hope at all remains. For us, though, while there remains the assurance of salvation, of knowing beyond a doubt that God is for us, there is no such certainty as to the state of those around us. We cannot give up on even the worst individual, and we cannot give up even on the worst church. We are called not to abandon, but to reform, to restore. It may not be in our power to stand like a Luther or a Calvin or an Edwards and demand that the body of Christ recall itself to order. But, at the very least we can pray that God would send such men into our midst. We can pray that our eyes and ears would be open to the presence of such men, that we would not be so put off by a seemingly radical approach that we find ourselves rejecting the cure.
What we must bear in mind, though, is the being radical is not a recommendation in itself. If the radical newness cannot be found to be the old Truth brought forth again, then there is no reason to chase after it. If the radical is but novelty, then it is worse than stagnation. It is a deception sent to draw the body further off course. Excitements are as often as not in this category. What passes for revival in our day is mostly in this category. There is nothing in these revivals that seeks to reform what the Church once knew. It’s more about trying new things. It’s more about titillating the senses. It’s a tickling of the ears that entertains the masses, but does nothing to promote the purposes of a holy God.
What, I might ask, is the heavenly purpose of, “all my fillings were turned to gold!” Who cares? How is this advancing the kingdom? By turning your attention more fully on mammon? Shall you now extract those pretty fillings to pay for your food and shelter? Perhaps donate the proceeds to the poor? I rather doubt it. If the event is real at all, which is suspect, then you shall doubtless be satisfied to have your brief moment of fame, to call out to everyone, “look at me!”
Does this discount the real possibility of miracles? Not in the least. But, the things that seem to get claimed as miracles are frivolity, tricks more worthy of a carnival sideshow. I look upon the doings of Christ and I find nothing of this sort. What was done was done with a purpose. What was done ever and always had at its center the intense, burning purpose of opening our eyes to the Truth of the kingdom of heaven, to restore our senses to appreciate that this kingdom was and is here, now, in our midst. He didn’t wonder around pouring gold dust into the hands of the poor. He didn’t, so far as I can see, spend much time causing long lines of people to fall down in a swoon. He didn’t make a show of it. He bent the power that was His own to the purpose that was His own: the redemption and reformation of the people of God.
Any claimed miraculous power that is not seen to serve that purpose must surely be suspect in our eyes. Any claimed move of God that does not move His people towards a clearer understanding of His kingdom must surely be seen as a distraction, an attempt of the enemy of our soul to turn our eyes off of Jesus.
We are, in our spiritual pursuits, rather like those natives first encountering western man. You can call me culturally insensitive or what have you, but the image is so much a part of history. By the standards of the west, the prices paid for incredible concessions were trivial, laughable. The entire island of Manhattan purchased for some glass beads? Laughable. Even at the time, the price was absurd. What made those beads of value to those who gave up the land? They attracted the eye. They distracted. They sparkled, like gold dust in the air. Like dancing bars of light, they catch the attention, while the theft and loss happening under our noses goes unnoticed.
But rest assured, when real reformation comes, be it personal or corporate, there will be offense. There will be that about the real move of God which is so at odds with what we have made it that it will shock us. Jesus spit in the face of this man. Now, I am not so fully clear on the ways of that culture in that day that I could fully measure how odd this would be. But, I can say that to spit upon one is, to this day, a sign of great insult. Almost universally, I think, it would be taken so. You spit in my face? What sort of man would accept such treatment?
In so many ways, the way Jesus reacted to tradition was much the same. He spit, as it were, in the face of tradition, because tradition was not the same as Truth. Pretension could not be construed as Purity. The sight needed restoring, and that called for drastic measures.
One possibility for this spitting, one quite apart from any parabolic meaning, might have been to judge or demonstrate the reality of this man’s blindness. If there is vision, and you are being spat at, it seems highly unlikely that you will avoid some sort of flinching. You may try however you will to hold firm, if you are attempting to maintain some sort of ruse, but in the end, the eye is going to blink whether you will it or not.
Perhaps, as so often has seemed to be the case, this was but the rock of offense set before the one who would be saved. We’ve seen it before: the woman at the well, the Syrophoenician woman. If you won’t maintain yourself through the apparent insult, if you won’t show yourself willing to set Truth above Pride, there’s no point continuing. If you stumble over your own ego, then healing cannot begin. Not yet.
Oh, Church! Don’t stumble at the insult of reformation! Don’t be found so hidebound in your ways that the Redeemer Himself could not convince you to change. No, and don’t be so tickled by the sensual that every novelty act that parades itself in pastoral clothing grabs your attention. Look to the ancient ways. Hold to the constant, unchanging, Truth of God. Search these things out to see if they be True and consistent with God in Whom there is not changing, no shadow, no uncertainty, no whim.
We might also look at the matter of Jesus leading the man away from the crowds before anything was done. We might ask why this was done. I certainly would. The most obvious answer is that He wasn’t going to be a showman, nor was He going to be mistaken for one. He wasn’t there to act a role for the crowds. He was there to heal and to teach. If the people had brought this one to Him hoping to provoke Him into some sign that they could shout about, and get this whole Messianic business underway, He wasn’t giving it to them.
If, like those folks in Capernaum after the first mass feeding, they wanted a sign, another sign, another reason to believe, He wasn’t playing. He would heal this man, because he was a man, and Jesus is Compassion. But, He wasn’t playing games. His purpose was not served merely by healing the man’s eyes. This He could have done, had He so chosen, with little more than a word. He could have done so without even coming ashore, for all that. But the healing alone was not His point. I tell you, the act was a parable, and must be understood as parable. The fact of the man’s vision restored is nothing when set against the reason it fell out as it did.
It is as though Jesus were instructing His disciples that they must never fall into the role of entertainer. They must never make the business of heaven about self. The kingdom of heaven has no place for the cult of personality. The preacher, even the apostle, is but a servant, and God is All. So, the lesson. Men may well try to cajole you into this most improper role. Reject it. Be gentle, be merciful, be mild, for these are the ways of your Teacher. But, reject it. Refuse the game, and pursue the righteous course.
Isn’t this also an image of our prayers? So often we pray in foolishness, however earnestly. We have our desire, our goal. We have our sense of what we should like to see happen, and it is for this that we pray. God answers prayer. I think I should not strain the point to say that God always answers prayer. He is not, however, bound to answering prayer according to our expectations. He will not be drawn into our game, even though He answer. He will answer as suits His own good and perfect will.
While I cannot say with any certainty that this was intentional, I do see another shadowed meaning to this event. In its way it serves to foreshadow the trial of Jesus. Here, we see Jesus spit in the blinded man’s eyes, ‘lay hands on him’, and ask him if he can see anything. In this case, the goal and the result are one: restoration. Looking forward to that day Jesus was taken before the court of the High Priest, we find Jesus blinded by a blind fold (Lk 22:64). We learn that they spat in His face as they ‘laid hands on him’, with slaps and beatings (Mt 26:67). And then they asked Him to declare who had hit Him. “Tell us, o Prophet, o Christ, what You see.” (Mt 26:68).
If, indeed, the present scene was intended to foreshadow the later one, these are all details that Jesus could not in any way have orchestrated. He might well have been able to predict that they would spit in His face, knowing their animosity. But, as for the rest, nothing in the cultural milieu and nothing in the standards of Jewish jurisprudence could have given any man cause to expect what happened. Indeed, the whole thing was quite in violation of the governing rules.
The parallels don’t stop there. We might look at this blinded man as having been brought before the court of heaven, Jesus being its appointed Judge, and our blessed and eternal High Priest. This man, like Jesus was brought before the court by the hands of others. It is doubtful that he was forced, brought against his will. On the other hand, it cannot really be said that Jesus, though taken by force, was brought against His will (Mt 26:53). He could have, as He declared, called legions of angels to prevent that outcome had He chosen to do so. He chose not to. He willed to go through the corrupt and lethal court case that was set before Him. Like a sheep led to the slaughter, He did not cry out against the injustice (Ac 8:32-33).
Notice as well that the blind man was taken aside, away from the crowds to have his decision rendered by the Judge of all mankind. So, too, the trial before the high priest, where Jesus was so cruelly used and justice so abused, was done in a fashion to make certain that it was away from the crowds. They waited for Him to be in seclusion before His taking, lest the crowds cry out. They tried Him at night, lest the crowds learn of their deeds, and recognize their corruption.
But, there is that one stark difference. In the one case, corrupt and sinful man is brought before the righteous Judge of heaven, and the Judge rules in favor of life. In the other, a pure and righteous man is brought before the corrupt judges of earth, and these judges rule in favor of death. On the one hand forgiveness, on the other condemnation. On the one hand restoration, reformation, on the other destruction. My, but how the motive interprets the actions!
The more I look at this, I wonder if this is not precisely the answer to the many whys. Sure, and one could construe a more mundane reason behind His behavior. We might suppose that the going out of the village was for the man’s benefit, that he not be overwhelmed as sight was restored. We might suppose it was just a matter of crowd management, but frankly, it strikes me that crowd management was beyond the power of man at this point. Wherever He went, the crowds came. They would as easily follow Him out of the town as stand about Him within its walls. And here, there is yet another foreshadowing of that final scene of His ministry on earth. In keeping with the point of Mosaic Law, He was taken outside the walls of the city to suffer the penalties of sin – the Scapegoat upon Whom our sins were laid and by Whom those sins were taken away from us. This man, too, is having his sins taken away from him in this act of healing.
That is not to insist that his blindness was necessarily a repercussion of sin, but we can rest assured that he, being a fallen man such as ourselves, did not go out to Jesus sinless. We can be assured that the purpose of Jesus in this act was more than simply restoring sight to the man. Whatever it may have indicated for His ministry, His compassion for man ever and always extends far beyond the physical maladies by which we are afflicted. These are, after all, but the things that follow on the root issue of moral corruption. They are the heritage of the Fall, our earthly inheritance. Again, I will insist that for Jesus, healing was never the end, only the means. Where the soul has not known true healing, the health of the body is nothing. Some there were in those crowds who never knew more than that physical touch. Seeing, they saw not. Healed, they were not cured. The base corruption of the soul continued in spite of the temporary stay upon the corruption of the flesh. Death would come in due time despite the improved health, and there had been no second birth to counter that first death.
So, yes, this man comes to Him sinful and in need of forgiveness, in need of redemption. Can we doubt that his Redeemer, having healed him of his physical symptoms, saw to his spiritual health as well? I grant that we have no record of this man’s becoming a disciple. On the other hand, we have no record of him proving spiritually callous, whereas on so many other occasions, the incapacity of those who had enjoyed this incredible privilege of encountering Jesus face to face and in the flesh to appreciate with Whom they had to deal is plainly stated. Seeing so much of Jesus’ own trial in this scene, I do not feel it unreasonable to assume the best of outcomes for this man. Further, seeing so much of Jesus’ own trial in this scene, it seems to me that the many whys, right up to why was this included in the account in the first place, are answered.
I am surprised, I must confess, that none of the commentaries at my disposal seem to recognize this parallel. Some few do see the actions as being a parable played out, but they relate it to the course of discipleship. They quite reasonably look at the state of the disciples who, while no longer blinded to the kingdom of heaven, still did not see it clearly. Nor would they until the Resurrection of Christ (or even later, with the imparting of the Holy Spirit). But, there is no hint of this presaging of the trial of Christ.
Lord, I do thank You for this, for I know how suddenly this particular sense of the passage came to mind, nor am I aware of anything outside myself that might have suggested such a thing to my mind. And, as You have unfolded the many details which make it so congruent and yet so contrasting it just seems the more certain to me. Though I cannot claim to be other than concerned to arrive at something so unconfirmed by those who have gone before, I am simultaneously thankful to find that yes, I still hear from You in these times of study. It has been a concern to me of late that I seem to be pursuing little more than my own thoughts, and my own poor wisdom. To have this powerful reminder of Your presence with me in these morning hours is a greater blessing to me at present than the inspiration itself.
Of course, my King, I do not belittle the significance of this inspiration, but I well know that You are fully aware of where my thoughts and my heart have been of late. To know that I have not departed from Your presence – oh, my soul knows very well that this has been assured, that my election is not something You deem subject to change – but, still, heart and soul have known their doubts these last several months. I have feared that this continuation of study was little more than mechanical habit, that the closeness I have shared with You through these studies in times past had been severed, that something in my condition had so grieved You that You had left me to myself. But, no! You never leave me, never forsake me. Though my senses can be so dull at times, still You are there. Though trials and grief seek to overwhelm me, yet You are my Strong Tower, my Refuge, my Victorious Warrior King.
Oh, God! And yet, I know that trials lay ahead, if not in my own body then in that of my beloved wife. How I grieve to see that constant threat hanging over her. How angry it makes me to see her so, and know myself powerless to effect any change. How I dread knowing that this cycle will doubtless repeat, if not today then tomorrow. How long, oh, Lord? You, Who can so excite my thoughts of a morning, You Who have so often kept me through situations I should never have survived, You, the very essence of Compassion and Mercy; how long? Will You not act to bring this torment to an end? My God! I know You are able. The testimonies to Your power are endless. The testimonies to Your mercy are beyond counting. My heart cries out in anguish, Lord. Why? Will You not reach down and set this aright? You Who have spoken once again in Your wondrous whisper, will You not act? Will You not restore to my dear wife the joy of her salvation? What joy is to be found in this endless suffering?
I would say to You that I do not complain, but I should be lying to Your face. In truth, I do complain. I do not complain that it is unfair, although my lesser parts would like to make that claim. No, You could never be unfair. Yet, this seems so out of character for You. This seems so at odds with Your being. Is there some cause, here, for Wrath to outweigh Mercy? If so, my Lord, open our eyes to see the issue that we may address it as best we may. Rescue us, my Father, by Brother, my Husband, for, though our flesh may not yet perish, our soul knows that threat. Though death may not yet draw nigh, how dead I feel, how utterly drained of every good thing. Father of Lights, look upon us in this hour. Come with Your good and perfect gift. Heal this woman even now. Heal her body and soul. Lord, if there is one thing in her that prospers, surely it is her soul. Let her body, then, prosper in like kind. Let her life manifest Your goodness and mercy toward her that she may be a testimony to the God Who Is.
And here I come to the last few notes I left for myself: Faith stands fast. Even the miraculous may be a matter of process, but through it all, faith stands fast. Yes, and that has been the case thus far. Because of the One Who sustains me, I can rest in the assurance that it will continue to do so. Perhaps it is the shortness of our existence in this life that leads us to be so anxious to see things done and accomplished. We have such a brief span of time here. We cannot really obtain to an eternal perspective, for all is so fleeting. So, the process of healing, the process of salvation, the process of purification; they all seem so excruciatingly slow to us. Yet, in the economy of eternity, they are but a moment. This weight of sorrow is less than nothing when measured against the eternal weight of glory. But that is a weight as yet unknown to us, and the waiting lies heavy upon us. At least it does me.
Yet, I look at this man with whom Jesus is dealing, and I see in him no least sign of doubt, no least evidence of frustration. What cause had he, after all, to expect that intermediate phase? Sure, and I can see, Sir, but not as I once did, and well am I aware that it could be better. Yet, no such complaint comes from his lips, only the bare statement of current conditions. “Do you see anything?” “Yes, I can see what must surely be men, for they move about, yet the form is so indistinct that were they to stand still I should mistake them for trees.” No complaint. No impatience. Just a respectful answer spoken in truth.
One wonders what was on his mind as he answered. What thoughts went unexpressed? Was his faith as sound as his words? I saw this morning that many of the commentators saw Jesus’ initial actions as intended to increase the man’s faith. Some even went so far as to wonder if the reason they went outside of town was because the unbelief in that place inhibited the power of God. To me, that seems so fanciful, so wrong. To think that man is in any way sufficiently powerful to inhibit the all-powerful God of all Creation strikes me as utterly ludicrous on the face of it. Who are you, o man? No. I feel free to suppose that this was a man like any other, capable of respectful, appropriate speech whatever the thought of the mind might be, however one might be feeling. It is part of the social contract after all, part of our typical dealings with each other, particular with those of higher power or authority in our view.
The lesson remains, however. Faith stands fast. It may be shaken but it shall not falter. It may be pressed down, but never crushed. So many times, even (perhaps especially) in this last year, I have felt certain that I could take no more, that one more crisis would prove one too many. And yet, every time my God has seen me through. I have discovered that I can indeed take more, whether I should desire to or not. I have discovered that I can, with God’s company, weather every crisis that has come. Oh, I have certainly had my failings. I have exposed my weaknesses not only to others, but to my own eyes. That is, however painful, a good thing. One will not likely address the problem he cannot see. One will not correct what is not seen to be wrong.
No, in spite of the stumbling, the shaking, faith stands fast. God remains at our side, carrying us through. Joy remains, though it seems to come and go like the wind. Emotions may be worn raw. Really, there’s no maybe in that whatsoever. It is simply a fact of life at present. Emotions are worn raw. Each of us in this house deal with it in our own different ways, but the fact is undeniable. Tempers flare so easily, yet the heart knows that they do not flare against each other, but at the crushing circumstances in which we find ourselves. The soul cries for respite. The pain, be it physical or emotional, has become so chronic that even when it is absent, there remains the dread of its all but certain return.
Last night, my dear wife could sense that the time of its returning must surely be near, and sought to forewarn me of the case. It is not that I was unaware. I can count the days as well as she. And while the physical pain is not mine to bear, yet I don’t wonder that I hate that count as much as she does. Had we not borne it so many times, I would state outright that it is surely unbearable. It always seems so. It tears. It rends. It burrows into every conscious thought, colors every brief moment of enjoyment. It has become so much a part of our life together that in many ways it runs the house. No plan shall we make, for how can one plan not knowing on which day we shall next find the cycle repeating? Every promise must bear its disclaimer. Every attempted regularity must submit. And so, every least additional aggravation is magnified by that one, overarching disease.
This is my life, my God, such as it is right now. This is my heart, broken before You. It is not pretty. It is not proper in its expression. It is reduced to its essence. And in this state, I lay myself and my family before You and cry out once more. Come, Thou Healer. Come, Thou Reformer, Thou Savior and rescue us. We, who have known Your touch so clearly in times past, must surely perish should we be deprived of Your touch now. Come with Healing. Come reform that which has been so cruelly twisted from its proper order. Your children cry out to You for help, my Father. We cry out with the knowledge that You are Father, Dad. We cry out because we know Your great love for us. We cry out because we know that One such as Yourself must surely answer. Oh, but how anxious we grow to see that answer delivered!
Yes, I understand that even the miraculous may well be a matter of process, but surely, every process comes to a final step at some point! Oh, that it might come swiftly, that You might come swiftly to our rescue. Even those three in the fiery furnace were brought out eventually. Even Daniel was not left amidst the lions forever. Nor was John left to suffer his exile in perpetuity. You, Lord, are no respecter of persons, no unjust Father to favor one child over another. No, You are the Perfect Father, loving all Your children equally. Oh! How I wish I knew the words that would move You to act even in this moment. Yet, I know there are no such words. You are no genie to be conjured, but a Father to be loved and trusted. My trust is in You, Lord. There is no other place it could be. And yet, I confess this troubling of my soul, this longing for the comfort You are. So, I cry out. So, I beg of You to stoop down and show mercy. Let our dread be turned to joy today. Let us see Your rescue even in the face of what seems so inevitable. It is nothing You haven’t done many times before. So let it be done for us, I pray. And yet, I know I must lay it upon Your will. If this, in some incomprehensible way, truly serves Your purpose, then so be it. And yet, like my Brother before me, I shall dare to ask: if there be any other way, Lord, take this away.
