Reforming Ourselves

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

Let’s think about Bartimaeus for a moment. All we know about him comes from this one paragraph in the New Testament. But we know he was blind and we know he was a beggar. So with a bit of imagination I think we can see what his life must have been like.

He woke up in darkness. It didn’t matter what time of day he opened his eyes, it was always black as midnight. He woke hungry and felt dirty but no breakfast was prepared and no one was there to help him. He slept by the road outside Jericho. He wrapped himself in his heavy, cumbersome cloak. That gave him some protection from the elements but it also was a constant reminder of his poverty and need. Most likely no one much cared about him or noticed his needs. He stood and faced the sun, feeling its warmth, but seeing only darkness. He opened his eyes widely but not a pinpoint of light peeped through. He was completely blind.

We don’t know what caused his blindness. But earlier in life he could see and maybe particularly well. Maybe he could thread a needle at twilight, spot a mouse a mile away, enjoy the faces of his family. That was long ago. Now he was blind and he hated it. He despised begging for food and help. He was always dirty, always in danger. Darkness was hell and he was in it.

Yet it was his blindness that helped Bartimaeus become a good disciple of Jesus. Because he was blind and because he hated the darkness, Bartimaeus wanted to change. But he knew that he could not do that himself. Change begins with honesty about who we are and who we are not. Change requires admitting our imperfections and our brokenness. Change means confessing first to ourselves and then to God what we need in order to be whole.[1] Bartimaeus knew what he needed. Too often, I think, we don’t.

Remember last Sunday’s scripture? James and John, two of the inner circle of the Twelve, asked Jesus for a favor. He said, “What is it you want me to do for you?” They replied, “We want to sit at your right and left hands in glory.” Jesus asked the same question to Bartimaeus: “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Let me see again.” He knew he was blind and needed help. James and John were blind and didn’t know it, blinded by the illusion of self-sufficiency, the blind assumption that we can do it all, be it all, overcome it all, based simply on our strength and power.

Isn’t it sadly ironic that the disciples who ate and slept, and traveled and talked with Jesus didn’t have a clue as to what he was really about. They remained blind to the possibilities of God and to their own great need. So the question before us today is what does it mean to really see Jesus and follow him? How do we clear away the darkness that hinders us and, like Bartimaeus, become true, faithful disciples? Here are a couple of questions to help us.

First, I want to ask, are we willing to change? Because today is Reformation Sunday I’ve called my sermon “Reforming Ourselves.” But the point is not that we can reform ourselves by our own powers. No, like Bartimaeus, we need to acknowledge how much we need God. All the reformers emphasized our need for God and none was more adamant about this than John Calvin, the father of Presbyterianism. Calvin insisted that to obey God’s Word, to let God rule our thoughts, words, and actions, begins by admitting how much we need God. So we must ask if we are willing to change.

That’s why Jesus asked Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” All the divine power in the world cannot change us if we are not ready, if we are not clear that we want to change, if we are not able to admit and express our need for God. To be unwilling to change suggests — blindly — that we don’t need anything. But if we’re open to change, God will change us and life won’t be the same.

Will Campbell, a wise, earthy Baptist preacher, tells about his own awakening to change as a follower of Jesus. When he was a teenager growing up in rural Mississippi, he witnessed a classic redneck lynching. A black man was caught stealing at the mayor’s house. The upstanding white citizens in the community reacted with gleeful rage. They tied the man to the back of a car and dragged his body along the gravel road through the center of town, shouting hate-filled epithets and throwing rocks at the despised culprit. Finally they dumped his dead body by the white cemetery, leaving his shredded flesh to fester in the blistering sun.

Campbell remembers going with other teenagers to ogle the broken body and spit insults at the victim. It was only years later, when Campbell caught the vision of God’s kingdom, when he understood for the first time the justice and compassion and dignity that God intends for all, it was only then that Campbell looked back on that vicious day in Mississippi. With new eyes of faith he saw the brutality and horror of what he and others had done to another child of God. Yes, when we ask for new sight, we must be prepared for changing vision — for letting go of the prejudices, the fears, and the myths that have narrowed our living for too long.[2]

Are we willing to change and see things differently? If we are truly Reformed people, if we are truly people of the Word, if we are truly like Bartimaeus, then we will be open to the changes God will bring us.

Remember in the text when blind Bartimaeus flung off his old cloak. It was both the symbol and reality of his poverty, his security, and his past. That cloak was his life — his bed at night, his protection from the rain and the cold, the covering that shielded him from the ridicule and scorn of the crowds. To throw off that cloak was to throw off all that had defined him and kept him safe — to throw off his old life in order to be free and unencumbered for whatever new life awaited him. To throw off his cloak was a willingness to change. What cloaks do we wrap so tightly around ourselves, fearful of casting them off? Are we willing to change?

Here’s a second question. I’ve asked are we willing to change? That is, are we willing to admit our need for God? The second question is are we willing to follow?

Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted and the blind man said to the Lord, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus replied, “Go; your faith has made you well.” In other words, Jesus saw Bartimaeus’ faith and set him free. “Go,” Jesus said.

But notice what the text says next. “Immediately [Bartimaeus] regained his sight and followed [Jesus] on the way.” Bartimaeus was not only changed but he followed. Will we, like the blind man, throw off our coat, cast away our misgivings and doubts, and asking what we will of Jesus, follow? Are we willing to follow?

Willingness to change has to do with our attitude. That’s important. But willingness to follow has to do with our behavior, with practicing what Jesus taught, in other words, with what we do. C.S. Lewis talks about this in his book, The Screwtape Letters. I’m sure you know Lewis’ allegorical story of Screwtape. He is a senior devil who writes a series of letters to his nephew devil, Wormwood. Wormwood has been assigned by Hell to tempt a human patient, as he is called, so that he will be kept away from God’s love — God is called the Enemy — and brought to Hell where his soul becomes food for all the other devils. Screwtape offers advice to Wormwood on how to be a successful tempter when his patient has shown a willingness to change.

“The great thing is to prevent his doing anything,” Screwtape wrote to Wormwood. “As long as he does not convert [his desire to change] into action, it does not matter how much he thinks about this new repentance. Let the little brute wallow in it. Let him, if he has any bent that way, write a book about it; that is often an excellent way of sterilizing the seeds which the Enemy plants in a human soul. Let him do anything but act. No amount of piety in his imagination and affections will harm us if we can keep it out of his will. As one of the humans has said, active habits are strengthened by repetition but passive ones are weakened. The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.”[3]

Reforming ourselves begins with the faith to change but lasting change requires the faith to be disciplined and practiced in following Jesus. A number of years ago, a young kicker named Dave Kaiser, with a last second field goal, gave Michigan State a 17-14 victory over UCLA. When Kaiser came off the field, MSU head coach Duffy Daugherty called him over and said, “Nice going, Dave, but I noticed you didn’t watch the ball after you kicked it. How come?”

Kaiser replied, “You’re right coach, I didn’t watch the ball. I was watching the referee to see how he would call it. I forgot my contact lenses back in the hotel. I couldn’t even see the goal posts!”

Daugherty’s first reaction was to be angry, but after thinking about it, he calmed down. Kaiser was a disciplined kicker who practiced long hours. He knew the angles and the distance to the goal even though he couldn’t see it. The whole process of kicking the ball was programmed into his very being. He had disciplined his mind and his body. He had followed the way of becoming a great kicker.[4]

Are we willing follow? Are we willing to be as disciplined as a place kicker, discipline in the way of Jesus that his way is programmed into our very being? The great 20th century theologian, Paul Tillich, who often wrote passionately about the meaning of the Reformation, said that God is the very ground of our being and that true faith connects us ultimately to God.[5] Such faith is possible only when we are willing to follow Jesus’ way.

The text says that Bartimaeus was a “blind beggar.” Those words describe both his physical ailment and his social status. Some in the crowd told him to be quiet when he called out to Jesus. There are a lot of voices — external constraints — that tell us not to change and follow. We also know that a beggar’s cloak was commonly spread out on the ground to receive alms.[6] So when he tossed it aside Bartimaeus gave up his only means of making it. How scary was that? There are always internal constraints on changing and following Jesus.

Friends, I pray that you and I will have the courage and the faith to overcome both external and internal constraints. I pray that we are willing to change and willing to follow. Changing and following Jesus will make us true children of the Reformation.

[1] Susan R. Andrews, “What Do You Want?,” Lectionary Homiletics, 8.11 (1997): 31.

[2] From Andrews, 31.

[3] C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: Macmillan, 1961) 61.

[4] Dan L. Flanagan, “Seeing What?” Lectionary Homiletics 17.6 (2006): 44.

[5] Paul Tillich, Dynamics of Faith (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1957) 1, 3.

[6] Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (Peabody, MS: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991) 253.