Aug 11
7
Mark 8:22-26-And he cometh to Bethsaida; and they bring a blind man unto him, and besought him to touch him. And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town; and when he had spit on his eyes, and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he saw ought. And he looked up, and said, I see men as trees, walking. After that he put his hands again upon his eyes, and made him look up: and he was restored, and saw every man clearly. And he sent him away to his house, saying, neither go into the town, nor tell it to any in the town.
We do not know the reason of the peculiar means employed by our Lord Jesus Christ, in working the miracle recorded in these verses. We see a blind man miraculously healed. We know that a word from our Lord’s mouth, or a touch of His hand would have been sufficient to effect a cure. But we see Jesus taking this blind man by the hand–leading him out of the town–spitting on his eyes–putting His hands on him, and then, and not until then, restoring his sight.
One thing in the passage demands our special observation. That thing is the gradual nature of the cure which our Lord performed on this blind man. He did not deliver him from his blindness at once, but by degrees. He might have done it in a moment, but He chose to do it step by step. First the blind man said that he only saw “men as trees walking.” Afterwards his eyesight was restored completely, and he “saw every man clearly.” In this respect the miracle stands entirely alone.
We need hardly doubt that this gradual cure was meant to be an emblem of spiritual things. We may be sure that there was a deep meaning in every word and work of our Lord’s earthly ministry, and here, as in other places, we shall find a useful lesson.
Let us see then in this gradual restoration to sight, a vivid illustration of the manner in which the Spirit frequently works in the conversion of souls. We are all naturally blind and ignorant in the matters which concern our souls. Conversion is an illumination, a change from darkness to light, from blindness to seeing the kingdom of God. Yet few converted people see things distinctly at first. The nature and proportion of doctrines, practices, and ordinances of the Gospel are dimly seen by them, and imperfectly understood. They are like the man before us, who at first saw men as trees walking. Their vision is dazzled and unaccustomed to the new world into which they have been introduced. It is not until the work of the Spirit has become deeper and their experience been somewhat matured, that they see all things clearly, and give to each part of religion its proper place. This is the history of thousands of God’s children. They begin with seeing men as trees walking they end with seeing all clearly. Happy is he who has learned this lesson well, and is humble and distrustful of his own judgment.
Finally, let us see in the gradual cure of this blind man, a striking picture of the present position of Christ’s believing people in the world, compared with that which is to come. We see in part and know in part in the present dispensation. We are like those that travel by night. We know not the meaning of much that is passing around us. In the providential dealings of God with His children, and in the conduct of many of God’s saints, we see much that we cannot understand–and cannot alter. In short, we are like him that saw “men as trees walking.”
But let us look forward and take comfort. The time comes when we shall see all “clearly.” The night is far spent. The day is at hand. Let us be content to wait, and watch, and work, and pray. When the day of the Lord comes, our spiritual eyesight will be perfected. We shall see as we have been seen, and know as we have been known.-J.C. Ryle
“The eyes of those who see shall not be dim.” –Isaiah 32:3
No more, my God, I boast no more
Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,
To trust the merits of your Son.
Now, for the love I bear his name,
What was my gain I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,
And nail my glory to his cross.
Yes, and I must and will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake
O may my soul be found in Him,
And of his righteousness partake!
The best obedience of my hands
Dares not appear before your throne;
But faith can answer your demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done!
Robert Hawker, 1827 (extract from Zion’s Pilgrim)
He has a healing balm for all
(John MacDuff, “The Throne of Grace“)
“The Holy Spirit helps us in our distress.” Rom. 8:26
You cannot live without the Holy Spirit.
There cannot be . . .
one heavenly aspiration,
one breathing of love,
one upward glance of faith
without His gracious influences.
Apart from Him, there is . . .
no preciousness in the Word,
no blessing in ordinances,
no permanent, sanctifying results in affliction.
The Holy Spirit . . .
directs His people to the waters of comfort,
gives new glory to the promises, and
invests the Savior’s character and work,
with new loveliness and beauty.
Come, then, with your affliction!
Come with your infirmity!
Come with your need!
Come with your wounded spirit!
Come with your broken heart!
Whatever, then, be your present situation,
seek the promised help of the Holy Spirit.
He has a healing balm for all . . .
the weak,
the tempted,
the sick,
the sorrowing,
the bereaved,
the dying.
“The Holy Spirit helps us in our distress.” Rom. 8:26
Lord, I feel my own utter helplessness!-J.C. Philpot
“O send forth Your light and Your truth,
let them guide me.” Psalm 43:3
The Christian is often dissatisfied with his state. He
is well aware of the shallowness of his attainments
in the divine life, as well as of the ignorance and the
blindness that are in him. He cannot perceive the path
of life. He sees and feels so powerfully the workings
of sin and corruption, that he often staggers, and is
perplexed in his mind.
And therefore, laboring under the feeling of . . .
his own shortcomings for the past,
his helplessness for the present,
and his ignorance for the future,
he wants to go forward wholly and solely
in the strength of the Lord, to be . . .
led,
guided,
directed,
kept,
not by his own wisdom and power—but by
the supernatural entrance of light and truth
into his soul.
When thus harassed and perplexed, he will at times
and seasons, as his heart is made soft, cry out with
fervency and importunity, as a beggar that will not
take a denial, “O send forth Your light and Your truth,
let them guide me!” As though he would say, “Lord,
I feel my own utter helplessness! I know I must go
astray, if you do not condescend to guide me. I have
been betrayed a thousand times when I have trusted
my own heart. I have been entangled in my base
lusts. I have been puffed up by presumption. I have
been carried away by hypocrisy and pride. I have been
drawn aside into the world. I have never taken a single
step aright when left to myself. And therefore feeling
how unable I am to guide myself a single step of the
way, I come unto You, and ask You to send forth Your
light and Your truth, that they may guide me, for I
am utterly unable to lead myself.”
The child of God—feeling his own ignorance, darkness,
blindness, and sinfulness—causes him to moan, and
sigh, and cry unto God—that he might be . . .
led every step,
kept every moment,
guided every inch.
“O send forth Your light and Your truth,
let them guide me.” Psalm 43:3
NONE CAST OUT
“This is the resting place, let the weary rest; and this is the place of repose Isaiah 28:12
“Whoever comes to me I will never drive away.” John 6:37
An invitation to every burdened Israelite—every way-worn pilgrim of the wilderness, to come for shelter under the branches of the Heavenly Palm!
How these and such like gracious words which proceeded out of the mouth of Jesus, must have told on the wondering multitudes He addressed, those who never heard kind sayings before—who were led to imagine that it was learned scribes, or devout Pharisees, or austere Sadducees, or elaborate-robed priests, who alone had any hope of salvation! Can we marvel that “the common people heard Him gladly,” when He lifted them up from the dust of degradation; when He proclaimed boldly—”I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” I came not to call you rich—you learned—you who pride yourselves on your religious formalism and self-righteous austerities—but you broken-hearted penitents, weeping prodigals, despairing Magdalenes—you the most erring wanderers from the fold, who are really and earnestly seeking to return. “If ANY man thirsts, let him come unto Me and drink.” “If ANY man enter in he shall be saved, and shall go in and out and find pasture.”
Reader! say not, ‘This invitation cannot be for me. I cannot take my place under the gracious palm-shade, just as I am, with the memory of countless transgressions.’ Yes! it is just because you are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked, that He invites you to come. Come, just as you are. Christ does not require any previous qualifications. It is because you are weary He asks you to partake of the shelter. It is because of your poverty that He so importunately exclaims—”Behold, I have set before you an open door.”
When, in a season of scarcity and poverty, thousands thrown out of employment are forced to avail themselves of bread doled out to stop the rage of hunger, they are not heard to say, ‘We must have proper clothing first. We must first cover these children’s bleeding, frost-bitten feet, before we can venture to appear before the distributors of a city’s or a nation’s bounty.’ No; if they did so, it would invalidate their plea—it would send them home again to a cupboard, and hearth, and wardrobe, as empty as they left it. It is because they appear in tattered rags, and because hunger has written its appeal on their emaciated faces and in the hollow eyes of the hapless children at their side, that the door opens for relief.
There is no desert wanderer, haggard and footsore, who may not come to that grove of “exceeding great and precious promises.” God has made provision not for the strong only, but for the weak, the tempted, the sorrowful, the suffering. The feeblest bird may make a perch of these branches. The anointing oil of blessing poured on the head of the true Aaron, flows down to the very skirts of His garments, so that the least and lowliest are made partakers of His covenant grace.
It is well for us, however, to remember that there is but one Redeemer; and “neither is there salvation in any other.” A few days previous to the Elim encampment, there was but one way for the Hebrew host through the Red Sea from the pursuing hosts of Pharaoh. There was but one way for evading the destroying angel—by the sprinkling of blood on the doorposts of their dwellings. There was but one way, in a subsequent age, for Rahab escaping the general destruction of Jericho—by hanging out from her window the scarlet thread. There was but one way—by washing in the river of Jordan—that the proud Syrian captain of a yet later day, could have his leprosy healed.
The Hebrews, on that memorable night of the death of the firstborn, might have built up Egyptian pyramid on pyramid to keep out the messenger of wrath. It would have been of no avail. Or the army of a million, passing through the sea, might have piled its coral rocks to make an avenue through the waters. The wild waves would have laughed them to scorn and made them the plaything of its tide! Naaman might have made a toilsome pilgrimage to every river of Asia—from Abana and Pharpar, to the Euphrates and the Indus—but all would have been to no purpose. Nothing but ‘the waters of Israel’ would prove efficacious in curing his malady.
Let us make sure of a personal interest in the one great Salvation. That Almighty Redeemer remains, to this hour, immutable—all-sufficient—faithful among the faithless—changeless among the changeable. Bernard beautifully sang in the words of his familiar hymn—
“Jesus, Thou joy of loving hearts!
Thou Fount of life, Thou Light of men!
From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to Thee again.”
Yes! you who are weary, sick at heart it may be of the world which has deceived you—bubble after bubble bursting in your hands; that gracious Savior, with outstretched arms, is waiting to welcome you back. With the hoarded love of eternity in His heart, He is ever repeating the “faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance” which heads this meditation—“whoever comes to me I will never drive away!”
“With a heart full of anxious request,
Which my Father in heaven bestowed,
I wandered, alone and distressed,
In search of a quiet abode.
Astray and distracted, I cried
Lord, where would You have me to be?
And the voice of the Lamb that had died
Said, ‘Come, My beloved, to ME!’
“I went—for He mightily wins
Weary souls to His peaceful retreat,
And He gave me forgiveness of sins,
And songs that I love to repeat;
Made pure by the blood that He shed,
My heart in His presence was free,
I was hungry and thirsty—He fed;
I was sick, and He comforted me.
“He gave me the blessing complete,
The hope that is with me today;
And a quiet abode at His feet,
That shall not be taken away.”
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”
John MacDuff, 1879.