Send Out Your Light: A 5-Day Plan With Sandra MccrackenChikamu

DAY 3: Seeing in the Dark

Recently a friend told a story about their family’s visit to the zoo. Their young son stood behind thick glass, just inches away from a lion. After a few delightful moments of smiling and pressing right up close to the powerful cat, all of a sudden, the lion was startled by something, turned, and swiped aggressively at the glass between him and the child. No doubt, if the glass had not been there, the child would have been badly injured. 

Even though there was no real danger in this scene, the boy and the boy’s parents received quite a scare. While we might be held secure by our faith, at the same time, an abuse of power or other adversities can produce the sensation of danger, and fear can be as real and present in our experience as the racing heartbeat of that little boy at the zoo.

And to our defense, our friend and Savior Jesus comes to advocate for us, to stand between us and danger—actual or perceived. Even before we can name or anticipate what we need, he inclines toward us, inviting us to find our protection, our strength, and our comfort in him.

Jesus meets the man named Bartimaeus in Mark 10:51-52 (TRANSLATION HERE): “‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Jesus asked him. The blind man said, ‘Rabbi, I want to see.’ ‘Go,’ said Jesus, ‘your faith has healed you.’ Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.”

I have a hard time answering that question: what do you want me to do for you? I have a hard time acknowledging my own blindness. But in God’s kindness, He illuminates our spiritual blindness through His word, through the conviction of His Spirit, and He draws out a request from our lips: “Teacher, I want to see.” 

In Psalm 43, the Psalmist picks up the practice that Jesus is trying to teach us in Mark’s gospel. In this instance, the Psalmist asks an echo of Jesus’ question, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“Why are you downcast, o my soul?” (Ps 43:10)

This question is another way of saying, “Hey, what is wrong? Can you name what you’re feeling?”

Jesus does not dismiss the dissonance of our complaints; He does not deny our blindness but moves quickly to meet us in our prayers of faith. Mark’s gospel gives us Jesus’ reply: 

“‘Go, your faith has healed you.’ Immediately [Bartimaeus] received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.”

While sometimes I’m tempted to hide or to change the subject, psalms like Psalm 43 give me permission to feel downcast and to ask for the healing that I need. A blind man cannot make himself see. Anxiety loves darkness, often causing more trouble when it goes unnamed. But if you can name your blindness—your need for healing—to Jesus, he is faithful to heal. He can bring light to your eyes and sight to your spiritual blindness.