Blind Faith

Mark 10:46-52

As I hear this story again, I am reminded of a story told by the Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh--once, there was a woman who was terribly unpleasant to everyone, but every day, she spent an hour calling on God. One neighbor, fed up with her constant attitude of ugliness, went to her house as she prayed. He pounded on the door, calling her name. She angrily cried out that she was praying, demanding he leave her alone. But he pounded all the more, shouting her name. She responded by shouting out to God, trying to drown the man out, but to no avail, until finally they were both shouting at the top of their lungs, drawing a crowd. She came out to man, angrily yelling at him. He said, "What? You are angry at me for calling your name ten times? What about God, you wear him out calling his name for an hour!"

Persistence pays, right?

Bartimaeus gets Christ's attention by refusing to fall still. He persists even as everyone else tells him to be quiet. Part of faith is persistence. Faith is a marathon rather than a hundred meter sprint. We have to keep at it. We need to practice daily. The more we practice, the more the work of faith becomes simply a part of our being. People marvel at the speed and success of African distance runners. They seem to have gears in a 26 mile race no one else has. They never seem tired. They float through the mounting miles. But it is no miracle, it is the result of years of work. Most of them begin running when they are children. It is their commute to school--miles there, miles home. Then, should they decide to compete, those miles are there. Distance is just part of who they are. Faith needs that sort of persistence and routine to become real and actual. The divine response to prayer is often silence. Immediate insights and answers are rare. Instead, over time, working through things day after day, maybe night into night, direction comes. Keep asking, keep seeking, keep persisting--God will be there.

Jesus does indeed call Bartimaeus to him. As he does so, hear again what the crowd tells the blind man--"Take heart, he is calling you." Let me be honest about something--the call of God is double-edged. We desperately want God to call to us, but we also worry over what God will ask us to do. Consider the rich man who came to Jesus, seeking a way into lasting meaning and purpose for his life. Jesus calls him by informing him of the path of obedience--love God with all you are, and love your neighbor as yourself, and life will be full and complete. The young man celebrates because he does that--he is religious. "Ah, yes," says Jesus, "you are there, you say the right words--but to be real, go, sell all that you have and give it to the poor." That was not supposed to be part of the bargain. Jesus' call does not seem quite so good. The crowd, though, speaks with wisdom--the wisdom of God. God's presence is always a gift. It is a gift of love, compassion, and grace. "Take heart" says all we need to hear. Sure, there are responsibilities and obligations within the life of faith. Yes, there are real and actual sacrifices if love is to be lived. Yes, it might get really hard. But you are with God. You are in the embrace of his love, his care, and his mercy. So, no matter how difficult the life of faith becomes, remember always that God is with us. That is most important. That is life within love that knows no bounds and no end.

Then comes a remarkable exchange. Jesus asks what had to seem a completely stupid question, "What do you want me to do for you?" Well, duh! Bartimaeus is blind--seeing might be good, don't you think? But wait--there is more to Christ's question than first appears. In actuality, Christ defines an essential dynamic within faith--faith is OURS. Yes, God is sovereign. Yes, we are dependent on grace. But we have to ask for it. Many parents can relate to this dynamic because it is one we use with children a good deal of the time. A parent will watch a child, knowing that they are about to fail. It could be watching a toddler try to get a round peg into a square hole, or it could be a teenager convinced they know exactly what they are doing, or it could be an adult child dating the wrong person. The parent can see the inevitable, but the parent waits. If they intervened, they would guarantee only that the child would rage at them, and fail anyway. The child has to see for herself what will happen. As failure looms or pounces, the cry for help comes, and the parent responds. So it is with God and us. God knows what we need, but God waits for us to see it for ourselves. God awaits our receptivity. Then grace can truly take root and take hold. We know what we need; we accept redemption.

That becomes the grease for the wheel. Christ makes healing absurdly simple and easy. Bartimaeus is healed already. Jesus does not even touch him. It just happens. A friend of mine loves chess because it is a puzzle. He has played for decades, and most often with the same opponent. They are evenly matched and games can last for days, if not weeks as they try to outwit one another. Well, one game became epic. It lasted the whole of one week. On the seventh day, his opponent had him penned into a corner--no escape visible. The opponent smirked, thinking he had him. Well, my friend asked to wait a while. In fact, he decided to wait overnight, going over the board again and again in his mind. Finally, he returned after a good night's sleep. He escaped and checkmated his opponent in five moves. The result seemingly just appeared from nowhere. You see, in the end, everything comes together.

Yes, it does. Everything comes together for Bartimaeus. He persists. Even when all else tells him he is doomed to failure, that he has no business bothering Christ, he refuses to let go. Christ calls him. He enters the presence of God where all things are possible. Then, he owns his need. He voices it. He exposes it to healing grace. He is healed. He departs more than he was. He departs redeemed.

That is the life of faith in a nutshell.

Persist. Do the work. Practice.

God is present. Trust that to be true. Know it is real.

Own your needs. God does not expect perfection. God does not require we have our acts together. God is good and grace abounds. Own your weakness, brokenness, and failure, as well as all that is good, right, and proper. Open yourself to grace.

Then let grace run wild. Let God flow through you. Allow it to overcome who and what we are. Allow it to be.

Then all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.