Wednesday, April 17, 2013
People of the Miracle- What it Means to See Imperfectly (A post for my Beggers.)
And they came to Bethsaida. And some people brought to him a blind man and begged him to touch him. 23 And he took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” 24 And he looked up and said, “I see people, but they look like trees, walking.”25 Then Jesus[a] laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." Mark 8:23-25
My heart is so sore lately. A little girl asked me a question the other day that still echoes in my mind, has echoed ever since I discovered what it meant to be "different."
"What's wrong with you? Why do you walk like that?"
Like a bullet, a million denials and heartbroken sighs and sarcastic thoughts pop to the surface,
Like a bomb, 9 words that make my whole world go blurry,
and the tears that I bite back are bitter, like drinking vinegar.
And I find myself wondering, "yeah Jesus, what's wrong with me?"
And I realize how utterly alone I feel.
And I weep, and Jesus reaches, and I push
away Away Away
from all who love me,
and from Him. I want no part of surface level comfort and misunderstood sacrifice.
When my heart calms, I read Mark 8 and I see something.
Beggars brought the man to be healed, he did not go alone.
And for the first time in awhile I see, I have never been alone.
I have beggars in my life.
Beggars without whom I would never seek the miracle.
Beggars who cry with me, pray with me. get angry with me, and question just as I do.
Beggars who free me to be real with God, and to want, so much, ache so much for the miracle.
But the miracle? That happens when Jesus takes the man alone.
He spits. Gross right?
I like to think of that as Jesus symbolically taking all of the "gross" that is sickness.
Tears, questions, bitterness, hurt, ANGER, and using it to heal.
Slowly. The miracle happens. Not all at once.
And he sees. Clearly
So, to my beggars,
I don't see clearly yet.
I hurt. I don't want to look at my feet.
I'm tired of weird reflections and awkward falls
and sitting in grocery store carts.
I'm tired and I'm weak. And in some ways, Jesus calls me to walk this journey alone.
But in ways, so many ways, I need you to walk it with me.
And I know you do.
Thank you for letting me whine about the small things. Shoes with massive holes. Shirts with buttons I cannot do. Food that I cannot cut without help. Hair cut short because I can't do it alone if it's long.
Thank you for urging me to NEVER give up on God taking away CP.
Thank you for reminding me that is does not now, nor will it ever define me.
Thank you for bringing me to Jesus
when the thought of the miracle journey makes me want to run away.
Thank you for sharing my tears as my heart breaks.
Thank you for begging for me.
Someday I know, I will see.
But until then,
thank you for begging.