(Mark 10:46-52)
“I THE Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles; to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house.”... “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing” (Isa. 42:6, 7; 35:5, 6). We read, and are caught by the prophetic fire. Our exalted spirit kindles, and we voice our admiration―perhaps we sing our praise. Yet to many it is an ideal picture of far-away things, something to hope for, perhaps, in the distant future, but not to be laid hold of now—nay, they may say, is it not a figure of speech?
Vague ideas that Messiah was among them probably excited the crowd leaving Jericho, running before and following after Jesus as He traveled towards Jerusalem. Alas, for how many it ended there; a matter of interest and religious sentiment. But there was nothing vague or ideal or far-away in the promises of God for one who moved not with the crowd, but fixed by his infirmity, sat by the wayside. He was a beggar and blind, a very picture of need. Alert for opportunity, he asked what the unusual stir was about. No sooner had he heard the answer than he lifted up his voice, loudly, insistently, repeatedly, for “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” His awareness of need made him a most urgent suitor for help. He called this Jesus, yet not using the appellation which others used; his faith knew and owned an honorable title that belonged to the lowly Man of Nazareth— “Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy on me.” The help he needs, let us remark, is MERCY. No hidden discontent breathes here, or implied complaint against Provence or the community. Yet nothing happens, and his calls to engage the attention of the passer-by increase against the unsympathetic attempts to silence him of the people who move in the van of the procession. He is not to be put off from his purpose by the meddling discouragements of others. How easily the Lord could have stepped to the wayside where Bartimaeus sat, but it would almost appear that before He reached the place He stopped, and commanded Bartimaeus to be brought. It was then the message flew from lip to lip, and Bartimaeus, as one whose application is favorably heard, became the center of interest. “Rise, he calleth thee,” they say. He, glad and eager, throws away his garment and starts up. Willing hands guide him as an avenue opens through the crowd, Then face to face, Jesus said, “What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? “The Great Searcher of hearts takes nothing for granted. Bartimaeus’ sightless eyes might tell their own story, but his lips must pronounce his self-diagnosis in his plea. He knows exactly what he wants and replies, “Lord, that I might receive my sight.” In that very instant his wish is gratified. Jesus speaks, His virtue flows out: “Go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole.” Bartimaeus, immediately healed, has no way to go but after Jesus; he follows Him in the way.
To what purpose did the Spirit of God indite this record? That the spiritually blind might know their Great Physician in the Lord Jesus. He came to heal the sin-sick in soul, to seek and save the lost. This blindness of mind and heart is an affliction of such as these. Are you aware of anything like this blindness in yourself? What does it mean? Blindness incapacitates for life’s activities and usefulness by a personal physical defect. Its victim is disabled from profiting by the light of the sun; he sees not his own way, endangers his life in the crowded street unless one guides him, misses the enjoyment of the beauty about him, and falls out of the race of life. He lives in perpetual darkness, though others are gladdened by the pleasant light.
Those who like sheep go astray are blind in their willfulness. Their way seems right to them, but they refuse to consider their latter end, and the Word of God says it is death. They walk in daily peril, liable to be called to their soul’s account without warning and unready. They know of Jesus, but they see not with a mind enlightened from above the beauty of the sinner’s Saviour in Him. They are utterly without any inner soul-perception of this, yet they flatter themselves they are His admirers and are pleased to be His patrons in their own judicious and discriminating way. Blind, they seek not the sight He gives, and have no use for mercy at His hands. Blind to their true present need and eternal interests, to the glory of God and their own real happiness, they are perverse in heart against all warning of conscience within, and so’ much as they know of God’s witness without—in nature, and in revelation. Do you recognize any likeness to yourself?
If so, Jesus is passing by your Jericho. Is your heart, however, crying for His mercy? All within Him yearns for you; have you no desire for Him? Can it be nothing to you that the Son of God gave His life a ransom for you? Your silence, your pride refuse Him an opening. If you would only call upon Him! If you would but kneel and simply as a child ask for His mercy! Only raise your voice to heaven and crave from Him the satisfaction of your soul’s need. Then He would lift up the light of His countenance upon you, and your opened eyes would see in His face the glory of God. He would shine in your heart, and all would be bright and clear. (2 Cor. 4:6). You would realize in seeing His face of glory, once marred by the sufferings of death on your account, that God gave Him, that He gave Himself; and that no lesser gift, no other means could avail if you were to possess eternal life. (John 3:16). Just as the Lord Jesus took no care to shun that place of a curse, Jericho, and having visited it, no constraint withheld His healing power, so He yielded Himself to be made a curse upon the cross, in order that the blessing of blessings might rest Forever upon everyone that puts his trust in Him. (Gal. 3:13, 14). No desertion by disciples, no ingratitude or refusal by “His own” (John 1:11), no injustice of rulers or heartless mockery of the rabble restrained the outflow of His love’s fullness when through the eternal Spirit He offered Himself without spot to God. Love’s flood-waters there, at the very place called Calvary, spilled over the dam that Satan would build to keep them back. Then when all was finished, how they burst through the rending tomb and the opened heaven! Our Jericho, this doomed world, rings with His fame, with the glad news that Jesus of Nazareth, the victorious Son of God, is passing by, full of grace and truth, mighty to save.
So long as you remain bemoaning your state you are like Bartimaeus, sitting by the wayside, no better than a beggar and blind—unable to see and fend for yourself, stretching out a hand for the pence of any passer-by. Learning and pleasure are but common passers-by: all they have to give is but for a season, and even then only a drug of forgetfulness lest you feel the realities of your case. Nor can wealth relieve your soul’s need one pennyworth. Do you say, “I know this well”? Even so, but there you remain. You continue, “More than this, I know that only Jesus can help me. I have even prayed to Him.” Yes, you are like blind Bartimaeus crying out to Him. Yet did you say, “Jesus of Nazareth” or “Jesus, Thou Son of God,” a very different thing? As surely as you have cried out of a heart desiring His mercy, Who is to be your final Jude, yet Who died for your sins, so surely He calleth thee. How? Why, reflect. Has no text come to your mind, no appeal on Christ’s behalf to your ears, with undeniable and quite extraordinary force? Have you experienced no unaccountable coincidence bringing home beyond denial that Another has spoken in your life? Or some narrow escape from death, or even some dream?
This for instance actually happened a few months ago. Picture a departing congregation and the preacher making sympathetic enquiries of a sad stranger at the door. Suddenly, squaring up to the preacher, the stranger questioned: “Do you know me?” “Why, no, I have never seen you until tonight,” was the reply. “Well, it is very strange. If you had known me all my life you could not have ‘preached at’ me more than you did tonight. I don’t understand it, do you?” The preacher answered: “Yes, I do; God was speaking to you, though some people would call it a coincidence.” He said quietly: “It is not a coincidence; it is a very serious matter and I must decide.” He was feeling the force of “Rise, HE calleth thee.” Reader, how is it with you?
“He saw thee when, ‘a great way off,’
Thou hadst no thought of Him;
The door of grace He open threw
And sought to bring thee in:
A child within its father’s home,
So happy and so free,
He longs to have you with Himself;
‘Arise, He calleth thee.’”
Regard no friend who would silence your anxiety; hold on to nothing that would hamper your rising and basting to Him now. Like Bartimæus cast your “garment” away. Your need presses beyond all that is urgent, for the risk you run is the loss of your soul. Every motive for haste is here. Oh, rise, rise! Approach Him. Tell Him your ease with the same plain and exact truth as Bartimæus did—your need of seeing yourself and Him and everything in the light of God. (Psa. 36:9; John 8:12). No one but the Son of God can give you sight and save you. His redeeming work, suffering for sin, is finished once for all. His grace and power to deliver are at hand. Rise, He calleth thee. Face what your need really is—not a suffering from deficient knowledge or lack of opportunity, but just blindness in willful disposal of God Himself and Jesus Whom He has sent. “Lord, that I might receive my sight.” What followed then will follow now; “Jesus, said unto him, ―Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he received his sight.” To faith’s full confession and helpless appeal the Saviour ever answers with instantaneous power:
“Prove Him! An almighty Saviour
Is the Saviour sail;
Prove that He can save you fully―
Can and will.
“Boundless is His love as ocean,
Wide as heaven’s own roof;
Put the riches of His mercy
To the proof.”
T. D.