A blind man sat on the road to Jericho. He sat there, possibly every single day, hoping that someone would throw a few coins his way. That was his life. Everyday was relatively the same. Black. Dark. Devoid of any light or beauty. Until one day, he heard noises… sounds of a crowd. Since he couldn’t see what was happening, you know being blind and all, he asked someone what was going on. “Jesus is passing by”, he was told. He hasn’t been blind since.
That was my version of Luke 18:35-42. There is much to learn about Jesus from this small passage and as Shyju spoke last night at the healing conference, so much became clear but God still had a word for me specifically, my Rhema.
The blind man’s story could have ended a different way. As strange as this sounds, being blind was comfortable for him. He knew the darkness, he lived in it every day and not to mention, his blindness was his source of income. Calling out to Jesus would mean letting go of the familiar. He would be forced to step out into a new, strange and unfamiliar world, find his place among everybody else. Would he be accepted? How would he support himself? Was he really ready for sight? The future somehow didn’t seem promising.
I thought about why God was telling me this– Did I really want to be healed? Because that meant that I wouldn’t be able to blame everything on some disorder or syndrome or whatever you want to call it. It meant that I would have to take responsibility for my actions. It meant walking without crutches.
Even as Jesus asked the blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?”, the decision was still his to make. Did he want to forever be known as ‘the man who stayed blind’ or did he want to be remembered as ‘that guy who used to be blind but now has perfect 20/20 vision thanks to Jesus’? Because healing isn’t really the problem. He’s called the Healer for a reason.
The real question was in my heart.
Bondage or Freedom?
I made the choice.
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