Lord, I want to see!
He called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Those who led the way rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more,
“Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Jesus stopped and ordered the man to be brought to him. When he came near, Jesus asked him,
“What do you want me to do for you?”
“Lord, I want to see!”, he replied.
Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus, praising God. When all the people saw it, they also praised God.
(Luke 38:40-42)
And I also call out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
As the diapers needs changing, the bathwater is overflowing, lasagna is still smeared over the kitchen floor, dishes are piled high, while the clean clothes are piled higher on the beds that need to soon be gotten into. The girls are nit-picking at each other, and a son is in tears over a Lego castle recently destroyed by one of the smaller sons….
He asks,
“What do you want me to do for you?”
I could tell him I want a personal maid, and perfect children, and a nice long vacation,
but instead, I cry,
“Lord! I want to see!
I want to see past all the work that these little people create, to the wonder of their little personhood.
I want to see the little struggles they have that are nuisances to my getting dinner on the table, as opportunities to engage in their world.
I want to see each as an individual, rather than a collective herd of noise and need.
I want to see, really see into their eyes, rather than a blur of tops of their heads as I bark orders over them.
Lord, I want to see!
I want to see each moment as a chance to REALLY be HERE, rather than view each moment as a means to the ever-elusive, and never-attained “there” where all the work is done, and the house is tidy, and the kids are calm and I can finally be content.
I want to see, really see, each person I encounter at the check out line, the grocery store, or neighborhood park as a soul, that will only be satisfied in knowing the Living Water, Jesus.
I want to see these neighborhood kids, not as increases in decibels, mouths to feed, and wear and tear on our house, but as little disciples that get to experience the reality of Christ in our home, and the feeding that happens when we feast on his Word.
I want to see my husband as the one I get to be a helpmate for, rather than just another set of adult hands to help me deal with this chaos called KIDS.
I want to see my Maker’s creativity in the fall foliage, the brilliant sun streams through the trees, the call of the owl, and the rhythm of the crickets song, rather than rush right past it all, just as thankless as if I were blind and deaf.
Lord, I want to see!
And often it’s the noise, not the visual that causes the blindness.
The internal noise, the head noise, the to-do list rattling off in my brain, the worry over an upcoming situation, the self-degrading inner talk over the failures of the day.
Its the noise that keeps me blind.
“Lord, I want to see!” the blind man told him.
“Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.”
And the cure is in the receiving. The cure is in the faith that it takes to be still enough to receive.
In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it. (Isaiah 30:15)
Its in sitting before Jesus’ feet, its in seeping in His Word, its in being still and knowing that He is God, its in the seemingly-not-so-productive act of worshipping Him for His Character.
And right there, in Isaiah, and then again in Luke, I see I can choose my blindness.
He offers me sight, He offers me salvation. He offers me strength.
but if I don’t take the time, this moment, to be still enough to receive it, I declare that I “will have none of it”.
May it not be so.
Jesus!
Son of David, have mercy on me!
Lord, I want to see!
