“. . .And they called the blind man, saying unto him, ‘Be of good comfort; rise—He calls you’.”

Mark 10:49b

Have there ever been any more precious words than these?

We know nothing of his background. . .where he was from. . .how long he’d been blind. . . what caused him to be blind, etc. We only know he was a beggar, the son of Timaeus, sitting on the side of the highway outside of Jericho (v.46).

Like any beggar, his was a pitiful plight.

This one, created in God’s image, reduced to sitting on the side of a busy street with an outstretched hand, crying out in a mournful monotone: “Alms, alms.” And, like most beggars, he was totally dependent upon others’ gifts of kindness. But, at least his blind eyes couldn’t see the contempt or callused irritation some had in their eyes as they placed a coin in his palm or tossed it on the ground beside him.

To many, he was an “interruption” and “irritation.”

That was quite evident that day when Jesus passed by (v.48).

Even now we can hear that monotonous drone of a voice that grates on one’s nerves—that incessant plea “Alms, Alms. Sir, will you help me? Ma’m, could you give me just a little something to tide me over. I’m hungry. Please, please, help me.”

“And in that Day shall the deaf hear the words of the Book and the eyes of the blind shall see out of obscurity and out of darkness. The meek also shall increase their joy in the Lord and the poor among men shall rejoice in the Holy One of Israel.”

Isaiah 29:18-19

It’ll be more wonderful than we could ever imagine or express (I Cor. 2:9).

Try to imagine how it’d be if you were blind, deaf and mute. Your eyes are sightless. You cannot see the light of day. . .the beautiful crimson hue of a dew-laden rose. . .the wonderful sight of a majestic eagle in flight high up in the sky and its beautiful, blue, canopy background . . .the twinkling stars at night, accompanied by the golden glow of a harvest moon. . .or your own child’s face looking into your eyes.

Or, imagine yourself deaf. You’ve never heard a bird sweetly singing in the morning on an overhead limb or a dove cooing at day’s last light. No sweet melodies of music have ever been heard in your unhearing ears; neither have you ever heard the tender voice of your loving mother or calm, reassuring words of your loving father.

And, imagine how it’d be if your voice were silent. No sound has ever escaped from your lips, no matter how hard you try to form the words and utter them. Your tongue and vocal cords lie silent, even though a symphony of sound yearns to be freed from your inward prison.

“Arise, shine—for your Light is come and the Glory of the Lord is risen upon you. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth and gross darkness the people; but the Lord shall arise upon you and His Glory shall be seen upon you.”

Isaiah 60:1-2

Awake, O slumbering Pilgrim—for the Light of the Morning I see.

Darkness-, Dungeon-Dwellers.

That’s what we were before Jesus, the Great Liberator of the soul came to us (Is. 61:1-3). Like prisoners languishing in hopeless despair in some dark, damp, dirty dungeon. . .shackled hand-and-foot. . .we were “without God and without hope” (Eph. 2:12).

But, then, we heard Something.

We heard footsteps drawing closer and closer. Steady and sturdy were they—almost like a soldier marching. And, before we knew it, Someone appeared outside the cell door with its rusted, grime-ridden bars.

Suddenly, we heard His Voice saying “Open unto Me!”

And, the prison door swung open of its own accord. No key. No tugging or pulling. It opened. Then, in the most lovely Voice—yet One with its own unique authority—said to the chains that bind, “Loose him and let him go!”

“For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord—and ourselves your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, Who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the Glory of God in the Face of Jesus Christ.”

II Corinthians 4:5-6

There is no darkness so thick His Light cannot pierce it and no pit so deep that His everlasting Arms aren’t still underneath it.

Picture, if you will, yourself deep down in a cave. Your flashlight’s batteries have quit. You have no matches. . .which means you have no light. Anyone who’s ever “seen” the darkness of a cave realizes how deep and unnerving it is.

You can’t see your face in front of you hand, even if it’s only 1” away. You’re afraid to move, for there are many boulders, overhanging rocks and deep crevices all around you. So, you must wait until someone realizes something’s wrong and comes to your aid. For a while you cry out, “Please someone help me!” but silence is all you hear. And, soon you’re beginning to hear all the noises in the cave, wondering what unseen dangers lurk there you’d never known before.

Then, suddenly, you see a tiny, single sliver of light piercing the darkness.

It was just a flicker—and, for a moment, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you.

But, then you hear someone faintly calling your name and you begin screaming at the top of your voice, “Here I am! Here I am! Please! Please! Come to me! Here I am!!”

“Wherefore I also, after I heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and love unto all the saints, cease not to give thanks for you, making mention of you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him—the eyes of your understanding being enlightened. . .”

Ephesians 1:15-18a

John Newton knew it when he wrote, “I once was lost, but now am found—was blind, but now I see.”

Spiritual blindness.

We’re born with it. And, no amount of education or religious experience can change that. Just as Paul was convinced he was totally right with God because of his adherence to the Law—until He met Christ on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:1-9)—so are our eyes blind to Him and our need of Him until He creates within us a new heart and mind at the moment of the new birth.

There are no discoveries; there are only revelations.