Well, here it is again.  Just like two weeks ago.  That same question.  It’s the same one Jesus asked of James and John when they were elbowing their way to the front of line.  Now, he’s asking it of a blind beggar who has been elbowed to the margins and can only hope that Jesus will stop and show mercy, “‘What do you want me to do for you?’”  If Jesus were to ask you that question this morning, how would you answer? 

This is a miracle working Jesus.  Word got around.  Bartimaeus couldn’t have been the only one who begged for Jesus’ attention.  There must have been hundreds, even thousands, of people who begged for Jesus’ mercy.  We’ll never know how many Jesus stopped to heal and how many he didn’t.  This time, though, Bartimaeus got his attention.  Maybe his name gives us a clue.  It means son of the man worthy of honor.  Whatever, he stopped and asked the question, “‘What do you want me to do for you?’”

But, I’m getting ahead of the story a little here.  A very passionate story.  If this were a movie, we’d all have tears streaming down our faces about now.  Can you see it?  This blind man cries out to Jesus “‘have mercy on me!’”  People tried to shush him.  But, he’d never been this close to hope before, might never be again.  So, he cried again, “‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’”  It stopped Jesus dead in his tracks and he told someone to “‘Call him here.’”  That’s when this man who had been blind for who knows how long received the best invitation he’d ever hear, “‘Call him here.’”  Can you imagine what that must have felt like when he was told, “‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.’” 

Bartimaeus sprang to his feet, threw off his cloak and went to Jesus.  That’s when we hear the question again, “‘What do you want me to do for you?’”  Like most people do who’ve endured long term physical suffering, Bartimaeus had a short list.  Nothing else much mattered but getting well.  If you could ask Jesus for just one thing this morning, what would it be?  Bartimaeus knew exactly what mercy from Jesus would like.  It would mean being able to look at anything, to see again.  Crying for mercy, springing up and running to Jesus Bartimaeus cries, “‘My teacher, let me see again.’”  And, Jesus did exactly that, gave him eyes to see, according to his faith.

It is intriguing the way Jesus could suspend the laws of physical nature to perform his miracles.  Water to wine.  Walking on water.  Dead men walking.  Blind people seeing.  But, what if we were to ask Jesus for more than that this morning, eyes to see in our otherwise blind spots.  What might we see?  As remarkable as it is when Jesus suspends the laws of physical nature and a blind man is able to see again, “perhaps the greater miracle occurs when the laws of human nature are suspended, when angry people forgive, when hard hearts are softened, when those who are climbing the ladder of success with no thought for others suddenly see the world around them, and greed gives way to compassion (Thanks to E. Ann Bell, “Begging the Question,” Wilshire Baptist Church, October 26, 2003).”  Would we be willing to ask Jesus for eyes to see again? 

In last year’s movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, the central character, Tula, is a young woman who has never married and given her father all the little Greek grandchildren he wants.  Tula’s father not only thinks she’s just plain homely, he tells her so.  It breaks Tula’s heart that her own father can’t see beyond just what he sees to something more. 

The power of a parent’s words to shape their child’s self-image is beyond compare.  Most parents never realize just how powerful our words can be until it’s too late.  But, something almost miraculous happens in Tula’s life.  She meets and falls in love with a young man.  His only problem is that he is not Greek and Tula’s father just can’t except the thought of Tula marrying outside her race.  But, this young man thinks Tula is beautiful, and tells her so.  When he does, you can see the transformation in her life take place before your very eyes.  It’s truly remarkable what happens when someone else sees us as beautiful and tells us so.

In the end of the movie, with a little help from her mother, Tula’s father has finally accepted the fact that she is going to marry a non-Greek.  It’s hard for him to say it.  But, even he has come to see that these people who are non-Greeks are people, too.  Some are apples he says, some are oranges.  “At least we are all fruit.”

Spiritual formation is the process of our being transformed within by the very person, spirit and character of Jesus.  It is a process that includes his values becoming ours, his mission our mission, his Spirit our spirit.  It is a process we can participate in through prayer, study of scripture, through worship, through community.  As our spirit is transformed by his, one evidence of that will be that we see ourselves and God and his people through the eyes of God’s eternal love and hope, more like God sees the world he loved enough to send his son to die for.  Eyes that help to see like this, “Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).”

That can only happen when our spirit is transformed by his mercy, so that we can, first, see ourselves more mercifully.  Otherwise, eyes that were meant to be windows the light of truth penetrates become instead projectors that send our flawed self-images out onto others.  With rarest exception, what we see as flawed in others almost always reflects something we hate in ourselves.  Only the mercy of Jesus can change that, as we first experience it and then see others through it.  “‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me . . . let me see.’”

What if we asked Jesus for eyes to see this morning?  What if we saw beyond our prejudices and fears and hatred and anger to the souls of others, maybe even those who have hurt us, and discovered that they are our brothers and sisters, too?  I guess there is something to be said for staying in the dark.  What you don’t see, you don’t have to look at.  But, would we be willing to pray, as Bartimaeus did, “‘let me see again’”?  Remember?  Bartimaeus prayed for mercy, mercy to see.  It’s only mercy that can help us to see beyond whether someone is gay or straight, thin or obese, dark or white, fundamentalist or liberal, to who they are in their soul.

Would we be willing to pray, “‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me . . . let me see again.’”  It’s a risky prayer.  Bartimaeus had one thing going for him that we do not.  When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see, no light traveled from the optical nerve to the brain.  Too often, we’re blind in places and ways we don’t know.  If we pray that prayer, the first scary thing God may have to do is show how blind we are.  Are you willing to run that risk?

This past week, I received one of the most remarkable letters I’ve ever received in my life.  It came to me from one our youth.  Though I have edited it to protect his identity, I want you to hear it so you can see what this young man has come to see.  He writes, “I've noticed something about me, I've really been feeling badly for people lately, for instance, (I saw this) badly deformed girl (this week) and my heart just wanted to reach out to her.  I'm sure she's an awesome girl, I just feel awful because I know that in all likelihood the other girls and guys in her grade won't even acknowledge her as a human being.  It burns in my heart and to be honest makes me feel for her, and not just her, but everyone else I've felt like that towards.   I've blown off these feelings for people like that for a while but something won't let me look past them anymore; I feel that I should do more than just feel badly for them.  They're people just like me, they just don't look like everyone else, or in some cases talk or act like everyone else.  It’s not their fault, but try telling that to a thirteen year old "know-it-all" at his or her school that wouldn't be caught dead with someone that didn't look ‘as good as them.’  I weep for those people.  It disgusts me, but not only that, it hurts me to think how badly people treat them because of something that is out of their control.  I don't know why this has hit me like it has, but it burns in me and I just wanted to let you know.”

I wonder who put the itchy burn in his heart.  I wonder who helped him to see that “they’re people just like me, they just don’t look like everyone else.”  I wonder who makes him weep.  Who do you think did that? 

All my growing up years, very few Sundays went by that we didn’t sing the old hymn, “Open my eyes, that I may, glimpses of truth thou hast for me.  Open my heart, illumine me, Spirit divine.”  Did you ever sing those words?  Did you ever pray that prayer?  What if we prayed them again today.  What might happen if all of us prayed, “Jesus, have mercy on me.  Let me see!”

What if?