A large crowd, jostling each other while straining to see, followed the man from Nazareth. Some had seen the miracles He did–things like multiplying food, giving sight back to the blind, casting out demons, even raising the dead. Some had heard the wondrous and strange things He said–such as love your enemies, lay up your treasures in heaven, and if you have faith like a mustard seed you can move mountains. Some had only been told about these things… But they all followed, wanting to know more.
Voices started yelling.
What are they saying? What’s going on?
“Son of David!”
There, up ahead! It’s two men, yelling–why, they’re yelling for Jesus.
“Son of David, have mercy on us!”
Mercy? Why are they–oh, they’re blind.
Some people tried to hush the men. “Jesus is busy; He’s tired. Hush now, don’t bother Him.”
The men yelled louder, “Have mercy on us, Lord!”
Finally Jesus stopped. “What do you want Me to do for you?”
They replied, “Lord, we want to see!”*
We want to see. Open our eyes.
Is that our plea? Do we want to see, to have our eyes opened? Do we want it so badly that we’re willing to raise a ruckus and disturb others? Do we keep on begging even after others tell us, “Hush; stop it; you won’t get an answer”?
I want to see, Jesus. I want to see the treasures hidden in Your Word, the mysteries in this world that point to You. I want to see the ways You’re working.
I want to see, Jesus. I want to see what You’re trying to teach me, want to see that You are with me and You are in control and You have a reason for everything. I want to see where I’m falling short, what I need to change.
I want to see, Jesus. I want to see the hurting, the lost, the outcasts. I want to see the fear and insecurity behind the cockiness and pride; I want to see the hurt behind the anger or the well-put-together mask; I want to see the sorrow behind the laughing face. I want to see the scars, the ugliness, the darkness.
And I want to see past all that, and see what could be. See the beauty that could come from the bruises, the story from the scars, the anthem of peace and love from the anger and hate, the healing from the hurt, the deliverance from the darkness, the faith from the fear. I want to see the purpose for the pain, the assurance even in the ashes, the sunshine beyond the storm. I want to see where You’re leading me and why and how my story might touch others.
I want to see what You see, Lord. I want to see through Your eyes.
Open my eyes.
*You’ll find the story of the blind men in Matthew 20:29-34.
