Have you ever had one of those moments where your eyes were opened to a truth you would have acknowledged and confessed long before you really saw and felt the weight of it? If it’s ever happened to you, I think you know what I mean. I believe a number of us in the church had a moment like that when studying through the book of Galatians back in 2009. Before that series, if I had taken a poll of how many members of our church believed that we were justified by faith alone and not on the basis of good works that we have done, I think we would have likely gotten 100%. However, as we took fifteen weeks of studying and looking and meditating on that truth in Galatians and seeking to apply it, I often had comments like, “I think I’m just beginning to really get this point that I’m fully approved of and declared righteous on the basis of Christ’s finished work alone.” It was in the midst of that series that I realized just how much the default position of our heart was to think our relationship with the Lord is based on our performance and how much we live in a constant state of senseless condemnation when it is for freedom from condemnation that Christ has set us free. It was through that time that we became a church that loved the gospel and its implications far more than we ever had before, though we would have said we knew it well. We might say that our eyes were opened in that moment to a truth we thought we saw clearly before that moment.
I had one of those moments earlier in this series in Matthew. When preaching Matthew 4 about the temptation as Satan is basically saying to Jesus, “If you are the Son of God, then your Father needs to start treating you as a Son.” That is, he was suggesting that he shouldn’t be going without food these forty days or facing the suffering that he knew was to come. But each time Jesus would note that he trusted his loving Father, didn’t need him to prove anything, and trusted the path of obedience laid out for him. And for some reason, the Spirit opened my eyes again to the goodness of the Father in laying down paths of difficulty for us. I found myself able to give thanks for some moments in my life that were not only painful but until that moment I had not necessarily been able to say, “Thank you God for taking me down that path.” Again, I would have said and believed that God is wise, sovereign, and good, but in that moment my eyes were opened afresh to that truth in regards to a particular situation like they’d never been opened before.
I believe that the Holy Spirit inspired Matthew to write the text we’re looking at this morning (20:29-34) so that we might have one of those moments where our eyes are opened afresh to a truth we would all confess, seeing something more clearly than we have before.
Now, the reason I say that is because this is such an oddly placed story of the Lord healing two blind men. We haven’t seen a healing story like this of a particular individual in a number of chapters. And it’s just a quick, non-descript story right after this conversation about James and John wanting the seats of honor in the kingdom and right before Jesus makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem for the last week of his life.
When I started looking at this text early this week I thought to myself, why did I break Matthew down in such a way that I just left myself this little healing story to preach? I mean, there doesn’t seem to be much here, we’ve already seen a number of healing stories already in Matthew, and this one really doesn’t seem to add much to the mix. In fact, back in 9:27-31 we actually read a very similar story where Jesus healed two blind men who were acknowledging that he was the Messiah, the Son of David, asking him to have mercy on them. In one sense, it adds almost nothing to what we’ve seen since we’ve read a very, very similar story already. The one real difference from the story in chapter 9 and this one is that back in chapter 9 Jesus had warned them not to tell anyone that he’d done this because it was not time for him to face the greatest of confrontation and go to the cross. But of course now it makes sense that he doesn’t give that same warning to these men because he’s right at the doorstep of being crucified.
Well, as I began looking at text it soon made sense to me why I bracketed it out on its own. It doesn’t neatly fit with the story of James and John asking for the seats of greatest honor in 20:20-28, and it doesn’t really fit with the triumphal entry that we’ll see in chapter 21. It’s almost as if Matthew forces you to stop everything and look at this little story on its own before moving on to chapter 21. But why? I think the answer is because this little story encapsulates everything we’ve been learning for three chapters. Jesus’ teaching about what we must become like to enter the kingdom, who’s great in the kingdom, and how the values of the kingdom are reversed from what we see in this world are all on display right here in this story.
It’s as if Matthew, being inspired by the Spirit of God, is saying, “I know you’ve been reading and learning what Jesus has been saying, but stop now, think about it some more, and see if the Lord won’t let you see it a bit more clearly, won’t open your heart to feel it a bit more deeply, and won’t let you come to a point where you say, “I would have confessed this truth before, but I confess it with much more conviction now.” This text, I believe, forces us to stop and meditate on the truths that have been continually pressed on us since chapter 18. It gives us an opportunity before going forward into the final week of Jesus’ live to stop and, ironically, make sure that our eyes have been opened and we see Jesus’ teaching clearly, even as these blind men literally have their eyes opened and are able to see for the first time.
What lessons then does this text remind us that we have seen in these three chapters? I want to mention a couple. First,
Matthew tells us that Jesus was coming out of Jericho, on his way to Jerusalem, with a large crowd following him, when two blind men sitting by the roadside (according to the parallel account in Mark’s gospel (Mark 10:46-52) they were beggars) heard that Jesus was passing by and began to cry out, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” (vv. 29-30).
Now, already we see that these men recognize themselves to be in a position of need. You don’t cry out for mercy unless you think that you have need. No one who believes he is without need but is actually owed something cries out for mercy. You cry out, in that case, for justice. But these men know they have great need. They are of the lowest in society: blind beggars who are left to sit by the roadside and ask for money.
And, as we would expect, the crowd begins to rebuke them, telling them to be silent. After all, Jesus has much more important things to do than to spend his time dealing with two blind beggars. Do you see how these themes we’ve seen from Matthew 18-20 are being woven into this story? We’ve seen this kind of thing before. If there were any on par with these men in terms of their low social ranking, it would be children, but Jesus has already sat a child in the midst of his disciples, saying in 18:3-4, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
And we’ve already seen these low-status individuals (children) being rebuked by the disciples for coming to Jesus, for why would he waste his time with children, who are nothing in society? Yet again, in that moment in 19:14, Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” And now, here we are with two men, representing the lowest of society yet again, and once more they are being rebuked. Why would Jesus take time to care for them?
Yet they’re not dissuaded from crying out. The text says, “But they cried out all the more, ‘Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!’” (v. 31). And Matthew tells us that Jesus heard them, stopped, and asked them, “What do you want me to do for you?” (v. 32). They answered, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And Matthew tells us, ‘Jesus, in pity touched their eyes, and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him” (v. 33-34).
These men not only remind us of what Jesus has taught us by pointing us to children, namely, that we must see ourselves as in need of him (as children are utterly dependent) in order to become part of his kingdom, but these men also serve in direct contrast to the rich young man we saw back in 19:16-22.
That man had come to Jesus thinking he had everything, and the disciples and crowds around him agreed. If anyone was exalted in society, this man would have been. He’s rich. He’s young. Luke tells us he’s a ruler. It doesn’t get better than that according to the world standards. He has everything everyone in the world, and maybe we ourselves, are tempted to want. The crowds aren’t rebuking him from taking Jesus’ time and attention. But his interaction with Jesus is much less successful than these two blind men. Whereas these two blind men end up having sight and following Jesus, the young man goes away, not following Jesus, and sorrowful.
It’s almost a complete contrast. What then are we to see? We’re to recognize that these two blind beggars had something that the rich young ruler didn’t. They possessed the ability to see their great need for Christ. Whereas the rich young ruler’s need was obscured by his success, riches, and status, the blind beggars had none of that to, well, blind them from seeing their need for Christ. This is why Jesus had said, ‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eyes of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (19:24).
This is also why Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5:3). By poor in spirit he means individuals who are able to see that they are spiritually impoverished. They bring nothing to the table except their need and, therefore, cry out for mercy. This is everything these two blind men represent. They are a reminder to us of this lessen we’ve seen throughout these three chapters that coming to Christ requires that we see our need for him.
But I don’t think that this is a lesson for us merely in regards to our conversion. What I mean by that is that it’s not only important that we realize we come to the Lord from a position of need when we come to our initial saving faith and repentance. Rather, this is something that must continually characterize us. A sense of self-sufficiency is a hindrance to knowing and tasting the grace, mercy, and provision of God. We always want to get ourselves in a position where we don’t think we need the Lord, and he is always working to show us our need for him so that we might cry out to him. Though we don’t like feeling needy, it is good for us. And though we love feeling self-sufficient, it is a dangerous place to be. Again, think of the rich young ruler and these blind beggars.
Now, here’s the crazy thing we’ve seen with the disciples and perhaps feel in our own hearts. If we had to choose, we sometimes are drawn to want to be in the place of the rich young ruler, rather than these blind beggars, aren’t we? We really, really have a hard time believing that what Jesus says is valuable really is valuable. Our default is to go back to what the world says is valuable. We may well be tempted to want the status, adoration, and success of the young ruler when Jesus makes clear that these men were blessed because they had nothing to distract them from seeing their need.
Put yourself in their shoes for a second, well kind of in their shoes. Pretend you’re there that day, feeling your need for Jesus, only you’re not a blind beggar. You’re you. You have the standing in that society that you have in this one. And imagine you’re around a crowd of your peers. Jesus comes walking by, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed. You believe he’s God’s promised king, the Son of David. You feel your need for him. So, you cry out, Lord, have mercy on me, Son of David!” And the crowd rebukes you, saying, “Be quiet, you’re making a fool of yourself by crying out like that. You’re an embarrassment.” What do you do in that moment? I mean really. What would you do?
My guess is that perhaps most of us would shut our mouths. After all, though we feel our need for Jesus and want his attention as he’s passing by on the road in front of us, we’d rather not lose any social standing we have with our fellow man. We don’t want them to see us as foolish, even if it means letting Jesus pass right on by.
The reason the blind beggars ignored their rebukes is because they knew they had nothing to lose, right? If these people around them thought, “What fools, they need to shut up,” who cares? It’s not like they could be looked down upon more than they already were.
So, it’s helpful for us then to ask ourselves, “What are we afraid of losing in obeying Christ?” Are we okay with faithful obedience, even if it means not being valued by the world? Are we okay with obeying, even if it means that people misunderstand us or think little of us? Are there things that we prize more than knowing our need for Christ and following him? If we had the choice of being blind beggars but clearly seeing our need for Christ or being rich young rulers but never seeing our need, is this an easy choice for us? Let me ask it this way, do we despise what the Lord says is valuable and long for what the Lord says is a hindrance to the kingdom?
This is what I mean by this text forcing us to open our eyes again. Last week, if you were here, we were no doubt all nodding in saying that the values of the kingdom are inverted from the values of this world. But do you really see it? Do you really believe that what the Lord says is valuable is indeed valuable?
If we do, then it would seem that many things that cause us to feel sorrow, envy, bitterness, or the like may actually be the very things for which we should be thanking God. Maybe we should be saying, “Lord, thank you for making me blind, for without my blindness I might never have seen clearly my need for you and run after you whatever the cost.” Having need and seeing it clearly is not a punishment from the Lord but may well be the most valuable gift the Lord could give you at this moment in your life. For without it, we may be content not to cry out to him all the more, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David.” And nothing would be more tragic.
Coming to Christ, both initially in our salvation and throughout our walk with the Lord, requires that we see our need for him. Second, we should see that,
Again, I think we know this and confess it, but when it comes to real life, we may default to thinking like the crowd. Now, why would the crowd rebuke these men? It seems that the obvious answer is that these two blind beggars were simply not worth Jesus’ time. They were insignificant and of no value in society. They even made it day-to-day by resting on others giving to them.
Jesus, unlike the crowds, looked on them in pity, saw their value, touched their eyes, gave them sight, and they followed him. It’s a great story and reminder to us that we need to have compassion where the world might see someone as an inconvenience.
But I think this story actually contains an interesting element that is easy for us to miss. In Mark’s parallel account in Mark 10:46-52 Mark gives us the name of one of these men. He says that it’s Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. In fact, Mark doesn’t even mention the other blind man in the story. He chooses to focus the story on one of these men whom he mentions by name. And in Mark’s gospel, Mark doesn’t mention names. So, why would he do it on this occasion? Why would he choose to focus on this one man whom he identifies by name?
I think the answer is obvious. I think it’s because Bartimaeus would have been a well –known servant in the church. In other words, you could imagine Peter telling Mark this story and saying, “So, we’re on our way to Jerusalem and this blind beggar is crying out for Jesus. And everyone is trying to silence him, but he’ll have none of it. He keeps crying out until he gets Jesus’ attention. Jesus stops, touches his eyes, heals him, and he becomes a follower of Christ. And you know who that guy was? It was Bartimaeus?”
And Mark would say, “Bartimaeus? You mean, Bartimaeus, the Son of Timaeus? That Bartimaeus?” And Peter would answer, “Yes, that’s who I’m talking about. That’s how Bartimaeus came to be a follower of Christ.”
I think that’s the only explanation for why Mark mentions the names of one of these blind beggars and focuses the story on him. Bartimaeus was a well-known servant in the church. It would be like me telling someone who doesn’t know Nathan Young’s past, “And you know who that abusive man who was addicted to drugs and came to Christ after a car accident that nearly killed him is? It’s Nathan Young.” And you’d say, “No, you mean the Nathan Young who talks to you and is so moved by the Lord’s grace in your life that tears stream down his face?” And I’d say, “Yes, that one.”
It’s a reminder to us that if we’re citizens in the Lord’s kingdom (where what is seen as valuable and valued is in almost direct antithesis to what the world values and considers valuable), we must look upon the world and our fellow man with lenses that help us to see what is valuable. Ask yourself this question, if you got the chance to share the gospel with an unbeliever you meet in this city who is good-looking, young, rich, and a leader in the community and a few moments later you get to share the gospel with a blind man who is begging for money under the overpass, do you rush home to tell your spouse or roommate about both of them with equal excitement?
If not, it may be that our eyes haven’t fully been opened to what Jesus is teaching us in Matthew 18-20. The values of the kingdom and the values of this world don’t match up. It shall not be so among you, Jesus told his disciples, after noting how this world thinks and works.
And if we ever forget, remember God the Son, washing the feet of his disciples as they prepared for dinner. Jesus was displaying his greatness by washing their feet. He wasn’t great in spite of washing their feet. And he’d display his greatness even more clearly by serving us by being crucified, buried, and raised for our sins. May our prayer today, then, be that the Lord would help us to live our lives believing that what he tells us is valuable really is. May we rejoice in all things that reveal our need for Christ, and rejoice that no one is beyond his gracious reach. Let us even rejoice in these things now as we come to the table. Amen.