As children, we would play a game where one of us would close our eyes and allow the other to lead them around. I suppose we thought it an exhibition of trust if we actually kept our eyes closed. It really wasn’t. We only played the game indoors. We were already familiar with the area, knew where we could possibly stub our toes, knock our knees, or bump into a table. More comforting was the knowledge that no matter how tightly we closed our eyes, the moment we felt uncertain, we could pop them open to see where we were, what was around us, and what trickery the leading child was up to. Because we had never actually experienced blindness, even our uninhibited imaginations could never properly grasp the concept of being blind.
Not so for Bartimaeus. He knew all about it. Intimately. He lived it. Every. Single. Day. His routine never changed. It couldn’t. Sameness was necessary to survival. Shuffle to the side of the road in Jericho. Sit down. Spend hours begging for whatever charitable donations compassionate hearts would dole out. Hours hoping someone would speak kindly, drop a coin in his cup. Days spent desperately wishing someone would see his humanity, not just his disability.
It was not a lucrative career. Unfortunately, most of the people walking past his space were used to him being there. They didn’t pay attention to him anymore. They didn’t hear his voice. They didn’t see his need. They didn’t feel compassion when they looked his way. He had become a fixture, a normal part of walking the road. He was largely ignored. There, but not there. Among them, yet alone. It was degrading, humiliating, frustrating.
Yet the fact he blended into their surroundings became his greatest blessing. It allowed him to hear things. Deep conversations of people walking by. Conversations they thought private. He was blind, not deaf! They might have been ignoring him, but he was hearing them. Hearing conversations. Hearing gossip. Hearing things they didn’t know he heard. Accounts of miracles. Rumors of mercy. Murmurs of a man named Jesus. Whispers of hope.
Bartimaeus badly wanted to meet this miracle-working Jesus. He desperately wanted his sight. He wildly hoped that if Jesus passed by his roadside some drops of that great mercy would fall on him. He’d nearly despaired of having his dream realized. What were the odds of Jesus passing by his spot? What was the likelihood such an important Man would stop to visit with a dirty, unkempt ball of rags? Was there even a possibility Jesus would hear Him over the roar of the crowds that surrounded Him? Was it all just futile wishing, useless grasping at the wind?
Clearly, it was not. It happened. His dream became reality. In the middle of his ordinary, uneventful life, something amazingly unusual happened. The sound of a large crowd approaching reached Bartimaeus’ ears. Questions bombarded his mind. What was going on? Who was coming? What were they doing? Did he need to get out of the way? Was he in danger? If only he could see! Reaching out, he grabbed the hem of a passing robe, managing to gain a moment of someone’s time to inquire about the source of the commotion. The answer caused his heart to leap, his hope to soar. His dream was being realized. Jesus was passing by.
Bartimaeus wasn’t about to miss his chance, this was no time for timidity! Without hesitation, at the top of his voice, he cried out, “Jesus, have mercy on me!” The people around him tried to hush him, embarrassed that this blind beggar would think he deserved an audience with the great Teacher, concerned his outburst would mar the facade of their perfect politeness and leave a bad impression. Surely they were doing Jesus a favor. He wouldn’t want to be bothered by a blind man. He had more pressing things to do.
Apparently, they knew little about the Jesus they thronged. Maybe they hadn’t had front row seats to observe His work. Maybe they were living vicariously through the stories they heard. Perhaps they selfishly sought to keep His amazing power for themselves. Regardless the reason for their hushing, it is clear they hadn’t done much traveling with Jesus. They had no inkling what was coming next. They were in for a grand surprise!
Hearing the insistent cries of the blind man, Jesus commands Bartimaeus to come forward. He doesn’t have to issue the command twice. Bartimaeus was already in motion! Exhibiting amazing speed for an unsighted man, he tore off his coat, tossed it aside, jumped awkwardly to his feet, and made his way to Jesus. Maybe some kind soul guided him. Maybe he stumbled a bit as he felt his way through the crowd. Maybe they parted to make a path because they wanted to see what Jesus was going to do. It doesn’t matter. Bartimaeus would have done anything, climbed mountains, forded rivers to get to Jesus. He had called, Jesus had answered. When Jesus called, Bartimaeus would most certainly answer as well.
Arriving before Jesus, breathless and a little disoriented from his hurried approach, Bartimaeus must immediately come up with an answer to the question, “What do you want from Me?” In spite of excited, rattled nerves and gulping breaths, the answer is certain, immediate, “I want to see!” And Jesus makes it happen.
Bartimaeus looks around. He can see! Green trees and bright flowers. White clouds and blue sky. The little brown dog that used to come and lay beside him, the only bright spot in his once miserable existence. He could see! He could walk without feeling his way or being let by the hand! And walk he did. He began to follow Jesus because, although he could physically see and choose whatever vocation he desired, he could spiritually see too, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be than close to the heart of God. (Mark 10:46-52)
I wonder what Bartimaeus saw when he looked at the people around him. People who had helped him. People who had hated him. People who had harped at him. I wonder if he saw only the outside wrapping, the image they wanted him to see, or if the opened eyes of his heart illuminated underlying meaning in previous conversations. I wonder if he saw perfectly coiffed brokenness, educated ignorance, religious sight shrouding spiritual blindness. Did Bartimaeus’ newly sighted eyes see deeper than the facade of perfection, success, status? Did he see the longing for Jesus buried deep in the heart of each one?
Do you? What do you see when you drive through town, walk through the store? What do you see when you read the news? Does your heart fill with compassion for the entitled, the abusers, the politicians, the criminals? Do you see people in need of Jesus? Or do you see annoyances for which you have only ugly things to say? Are you blind to the real needs hidden under the obvious chaos? Have you allowed Jesus to give sight to your heart? (Mark 8:2; Luke 7:13; Matthew 15:32, 20:34, 14:14, 9:36)
You need to. Having a sighted heart is paramount in this world where multitudes hide behind facades. Happiness. Fulfillment. Acceptance. Success. Faith. We need hearts with the eyes of God to see beneath the layers and recognize the deep need in the soul next to us. The person in the church pew, beautifully attired, heartily singing, fully engaged, yet deeply longing for someone to offer love and support for the struggle hidden beneath. The co-worker climbing the ladder of success with alarming speed whose work and dedication is merely a cover for intense loneliness and desperate longing for fulfillment only Jesus can give. The addict, the prostitute.The homeless, hopeless, helpless. All crying out to be seen, not for what they are on the outside, but for what they need on the inside. All desperately searching for a touch, a word, a glimmer of hope, a story of mercy, the possibility of recovery. All deeply hungering, tirelessly seeking, endlessly waiting for Jesus to pass by.
Perhaps it will be you. Maybe you will be that glimpse of Jesus for which they search. Maybe you can be that glimmer of hope. Perhaps you could be the first in a long line of mercy extenders. Maybe, if your physical eyes disregard what they see and you follow the eyes of your heart. Maybe, if you choose not to be so narrow-minded as to determine the impeccably dressed CEO is more important than the raggedly attired bag lady. Maybe, just maybe, you could be the hands and feet of Jesus if your sighted heart will look beneath the exterior and see the need. Maybe you could offer everyone Jesus. You could, but only if your heart has Jesus vision. (Matthew 5:14-16)
So cry out to Jesus. Ask Him to make you see. See yourself, your sin, your shortcomings. Allow Him to cleanse, heal, and change your heart. Then ask again. Beg Him to give you the vision of the Father. Vision that sees beneath the exterior, beyond the facade. Eyes that see people, truly see them, regardless of appearance, social status, or tax bracket. A heart that reaches out in love, extending hope, offering help. Ears that listen and truly hear. Lips that speak of the relentless mercy and unending grace of the Father. May you shield your seeing eyes and view others from a sighted heart. (Psalm 51:10; I Samuel 16:7; Luke 6:24; Ephesians 4:2-3; John 13:34; Romans 12:10; Galatians 6:2)