From General Desire to Specific Commitment

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas October 24, 2009; 21 Pentecost; Proper 25, Year B Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Mark 10:46-52) – Jesus and his disciples 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. __________________________________________________________________

Jesus asks Bartimaeus, "What do you want me to do for you?"

How would you answer that question? What if Jesus walked up to you right now, spoke your name, and asked, "What do you want me to do for you?" How would you answer?

When I imagined that scenario for myself, my answer came immediately. Maybe it's a shallow, materialistic answer, but this is what exploded from my consciousness as I imagined being asked that question from Jesus, "Lowell, what do you want me to do for you?" I want enough money pledged to St. Paul's so we don't have to go through the sweat and anxiety we went through last year when we made program cuts, froze salaries, and I nearly was faced with the awful prospect of having to lose someone on our staff. That's the worry that can keep me awake at night.

In a way I was embarrassed by my answer. There's a bigger part of me that wants world peace and an end to poverty, suffering and injustice. On the larger scale of things my anxiety seems pretty petty. But that's what it was.

I find that I am worrying. The economy is bad. Many of our parishioners are suffering. Some have lost their jobs. Non-profits everywhere are bleeding. "Please let that cup pass-over us, Lord." That is my prayer right this moment. At least that's what blurted out from my anxiety when I let myself be asked the question, "What do you want me to do for you?"

Then I sat with it for a while, and there was a deeper need that bubbled up from below my anxiety. A need for trust. A desire to be able to trust. Jesus asks me a second time, "What do you want me to do for you?" Something a bit deeper answers, "I want to trust. I want to trust God so deeply that I know that you will provide whatever is necessary, and my staff and congregation and I can rest securely in that." That answer comes from place below my earlier anxiety. Then I begin to remember. I remember a few stories when I've looked at dead ends, trusted nonetheless, and somehow, things worked out. I remember again, it's not my doing, but God's.

So, I know my anxiety, and I sense a deeper desire; a desire to be more trusting. But I know that there is another step necessary. It's not enough to want to be more trusting. I know I really have to do something specific to commit to trusting; something concrete that expresses my trust in God.

Killian Noe has worked with heroin and crack addicts for years. She says that those who make the transformation from the drug culture to a whole new way of life are the ones who "move from a GENERAL DESIRE to be drug free to SPECIFIC COMMITMENTS and practices." In their program in Washington D.C., they teach addicts to make specific commitments to practices: to commit to get up each day; to go to a job; to live in community where they share their struggles and triumphs with one another; to take each paycheck and put one-third into savings, one-third toward rent, and one-third for other expenses; and to pray. They teach every person in their re-hab program how to pray conversationally to God, and how to contemplate, using Centering Prayer. Their specific commitments to these practices help them overcome the impulses that otherwise have threatened their lives. Killian Noe says that unless they move from the general desire to be drug free to some specific commitments and practices, there is no transformation, they always return to their destructive former behaviors. (1)

What to you want Jesus to do for you? If Jesus were in front of you right now, called you by name, and asked, "What do you want me to do for you?", how would you answer?
I want to be well. I want to be happy. I want my marriage to work. I want my children to thrive. I want to find a job. I want to pay my bills. I want more meaningful work. I want more time. I want some peace and quiet. I want some friends.
What do you want? What do you want Jesus to do for you?

Then comes the followup question. This question comes from Jesus and is directed at you. "What specific commitments or practices will you make to transform your desire into reality?"

Killian Noe tells about running into a colleague in their inner-city work. He looked exhausted and pale. So she asked him, "How are you, really?"

In the few moments we were together, he allowed, "My wife is struggling with debilitating pain, my teenage daughter is flunking out of school, my aging parents need to move out of their home into assisted living, and my ministry has suffered cutbacks in funding for the critical needs I care about." He went on to say, "I'm feeling so overwhelmed and exhausted by all the demands on my life right now that I've decided to increase my prayer time from one hour a day to two hours a day." (2)

That's a specific commitment and practice which will open him to the transforming power of the Spirit to address his experience of exhaustion, powerlessness and worry.

I have a general desire to be healthy and well – so I know I need to make a specific commitment to a practice of exercise and good diet, and prayer. I want to be happy – so I know I need to make a specific commitment to count my blessings and to react with acceptance and hope to the challenges of my life, and prayer. I want my marriage to work – so I know I need to take time to talk with my spouse and to plan creative time together, and prayer. With every desire in our lives there is a corresponding set of commitments and practices that can move us from mere general desire to the life-giving energy of genuine transformation.

Bartimaeus was stuck. He had been sitting there on the side of the road for years, blindly begging every day for a few coins from those who passed by. He was in a rut. But it was a familiar rut. And with time, a familiar rut can become comfortable. Predictable. At least he was getting by. "Alms. Alms for the blind."

But he hears of a new rabbi. Some say he might be the Messiah, the Son of David. Who knows? When the rabbi's entourage passes by, Bartimaeus decides to work the angle, to play to the new Messiah. "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus' handlers tell Bartimaeus to shut up. That's the moment when he could have quit. That's the moment when Bartimaeus could have said to himself, "Ha. He's no messiah. He's just like the rest." And retreated to his comfortable rut. "Alms. Alms for the blind."

But no. Something else happened inside Bartimaeus. He changed. He stretched. He took a chance. He moved from the general desire to be free to a specific commitment. He challenged Jesus. "If you are the Messiah, answer me!" He cried again, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

This second cry gets Jesus' attention. There is something different about this second cry. It is the appeal of the committed. It is also the plea of the powerless. It is a cry of trust. "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stops.

This time the others say, "Get up, he is calling you." The text says that he throws off his cloak. I wonder about that. Is that coat something like his security blanket? Or maybe the cover he uses to shield himself from others? Or possibly it is his old identity, the ragged coat of a beggar? Whatever it is, he throws it off and runs!

Jesus looks at him through his blind eyes, and asks him directly: "What do you want me to do for you?" He knows what he wants and he is fully committed to his answer. "My teacher, let me see again." He has committed to be a student of Jesus, whom he calls "My teacher." He has committed to see from Jesus' perspective; to see anew, through the teacher's eyes. And Bartimaeus is given vision. He sees. He leaves his cloak by the roadside. And he follows Jesus on the way. They are headed to Jerusalem. They are headed to the cross.

Jesus calls for you. He grasps your attention. He looks at you directly, and he asks: "What do you want me to do for you?"

What is your answer? What are you willing to commit to in order to answer?
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(1) Killian Noe, Finding Our Way Home, Herald Press, 2003, p. 19f
(2) Noe, p. 22