In the midst of Jesus earthly ministry a blind man was brought to him. Jesus spit upon some dirt, touched the blind man’s eyes, and then graciously healed him. Jesus then asked him a great question, “Do you see anything?” (Mk. 8.23). The man’s response is interesting, “I see men but they look like trees walking.” (8.24) Jesus then lays his hands upon him again, perfectly and gloriously restoring his sight.
I love this narrative in Mark’s gospel account. I love it because I find myself in it with blurry, muddy eyes.
I do not believe it is any accident that this incident is nestled in the midst of Jesus repeated emphasis upon who he is and what he is doing (Mk. 8.31, 9.31, 10.45). It is also not an accident that these repeated blood drenched declarations are met with repeated misunderstanding by the disciples. The disciples find themselves on multiple occasions obsessed with their own greatness rather than their Master’s. As a result we have the Savior’s stinging remarks in Mark 10.35-45.
But I can’t pile on these guys for their blindness, misunderstanding or shallowness. They look past the cross in their windshield and I look past it in my rear view mirror. We both look at Jesus’ person and work and say with some reluctance and shame that things are a bit fuzzy.
I have somehow convinced myself that I am less dependent upon the work of Christ than I am. I have also somehow convinced myself that I have something of value that is worth clinging to. I, like the disciples, love to ponder, promote and pursue my own perceived greatness. This sadly eclipses and undermines the beauty and glory of Christ’s greatness.
I see this in my marriage through selfish personal consumption that does not bow down to serve like the Master has said and done.
I see it in my parenting through an obsession of seeing kids conformed to my image rather than Christ’s.
I see it in friendships through a desire to put myself and my perceived needs first rather than to serve them with the gospel.
I see it in pastoral ministry through a lack of prayerfulness, thankfulness, brokenness, and happiness.
I see it in recreation by my passionate enjoyment of things and stuff without seeing Christ’s trademark on it. And on and on the list could go.
Yes I too have fuzzy vision.
I look past the gospel.
I do need to preach Christ to my own heart. But I also need to love him. This loving of Christ suffocates the prideful love of self that diminishes our glorious vision of the new birth.
I am thankful this hour that it is “the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3.18) that is sovereignly, powerfully, continually, faithfully, and graciously conforming his saints into the image of Christ. I am thankful that just as Israel was not left to rot in the wilderness of grumbling but were provided fresh manna from heaven and water to satisfy their hunger and thirst, that God has seen fit to not only create a hunger for Christ but to continually and powerfully supply the fresh living water of Christ (Jn. 7.37) and that out of a new heart truly comes a spring of satisfied delight in tasting the glories of Christ. I am thankful that God has provided the manna that truly satisfies and fills in Christ. The bread of heaven has come down to satisfy my hungry soul (Jn. 6.35ff). Indeed, as the Savior has said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (Jn. 6.37).
So yes I see. I have seen. But, things are fuzzy. So I pray that the sovereign, glorious, self-revealing Savior would continue to take hold of my spiritual eyes and apply the mud and spit of the gospel to my eyes that I might see more clearly and value him more faithfully. That is to say, that I might see things more clearly as I see Christ more clearly.