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When God calls you to step into spaces, you may feel unequipped, but God equips those who are called. He gives you the provision in the midst of the vision. God is not looking for ability—he is looking for availability.
I came off the road as a traveling evangelist for 13 years and became a pastor for the first time at a church with 379 employees. I had never led a team before, yet God made a way. That loneliness was met when I found community and encouragement from leaders around me.
My grandmother was a woman of profound faith. She grew up in Pilot Mountain, North Carolina, and worked as a beautician for 65 years, refusing retirement so she could help get her grandson through Bible College. She would pray with great expectation that I would give my life to Jesus and one day become a preacher of the gospel.
I remember telling her, "Granny Boo, I love you, but would you please stop praying that I'll be a preacher?" Some of the most socially awkward people I'd ever met were preachers, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Yet my grandmother kept praying.
My mother was told by doctors she could not have children due to cerebral palsy. But my grandmother took my mother to a healing service in Charlotte, North Carolina—a tent revival. When the evangelist called for those needing healing to come forward, my mother walked up. The evangelist spoke to my mother, but she couldn't hear him because she was deaf. My mother looked at my grandmother and asked in sign language, "What did he say?" My grandmother responded, "He just told you that you're pregnant."
That was me. I did not know this truth until four years ago when my aunt sent me a page from my grandmother's journal.
What if tonight this service is pregnant with expectation? What if this is a defining moment where you receive the revelation of how God sees you and how he is for you? Wouldn't it be amazing to know what God thinks about you right now? To see the full appointment and anointing and destiny on your life without having to wait until someone is gone to understand its significance?
I wish I had known these things while my mother was alive. But now it is in my heart and soul, and God has sent me from San Antonio, Texas to put this in your spirit: God wants to speak into your life for such a time as this. You were created for this moment. You were formed and fashioned for this purpose.
Let's look at Mark 10:46-48. Jesus was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd. A blind beggar named Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"
Many rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he cried out all the more: "Son of David, have mercy on me!"
Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem where he would be betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, tried unlawfully, beaten, smitten, blasphemed, and crucified. Yet as he came through Jericho, there was a man named Bartimaeus who understood something critical.
When the disciples saw handicapped people, they would ask Jesus, "Who sinned—the mother, the father, or this person?" They believed that disability was God's judgment for sin. But that is an incorrect mindset.
People with disabilities are not people with disabilities—they are people with different abilities. One element of their life may be removed, but there are superpowers in other categories.
Bartimaeus had no government-subsidized housing, no social security, no aid for the disabled. He lived in a moment where people spoke with judgment. But he found himself at the crossroads of helplessness and hopelessness, and he heard that the Miracle Worker, the pain taker, the way maker—the one who changes everybody he comes into contact with—was coming through.
When you find yourself at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness, and the Savior of the world is coming through, you do not remain silent.
When our world begins to unravel at the seams, it is interesting that we call everybody else except the one who can actually help us. Let me tell you a story.
I was living in Memphis, on my way to a speaking engagement in Mississippi. My fuel gauge was on "E," the light was blinking, and I thought to myself, I think I can make it. I coasted into a gas station on fumes, filled up the tank with $55, and then realized I could not find my wallet. I had no credit card, nothing. I was 45 minutes from my house with no money.
I could not call my wife—she had warned me this would happen. So I went through my phone looking for any number with a 662 area code (Mississippi). I found a number in red with no contact name assigned to it. I randomly called it.
When someone answered, I said, "Hello, who is this?" They said, "No, who's this? You called me." I said, "My name is Ed Newton." He said, "Ed Newton? Hey man, it's John Carbo." I knew this person.
He said, "Ed, are you okay? You sound like something is wrong." I told him I was at a gas station, 45 minutes from home, with no cash or credit card, and I did not know what to do.
He said, "Tell me the crossroads you're at." When I named them, he said, "You're not going to believe this—I'm at a red light looking at that exact gas station right now."
When you are at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness, who do you call? Those numbers in red are for God. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.
You might say, "Pastor Ed, I don't have his diagnosis. I don't have his struggle." But according to the Bible:
None is righteous, no, not one. (Romans 3:10)
All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)
Our sins have separated us from God. (Isaiah 59:2)
Our righteous deeds are like filthy rags. (Isaiah 64)
No one seeks after God. (Romans 3:11)
We are dead in our transgressions and incapable of pursuing God in and of ourselves. (Ephesians 2:1)
Even the faith we have been given to see Jesus for who he is—that is a gift from him.
When we find ourselves at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness and Jesus steps into that space, everything changes.
Bartimaeus cried out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" This is a fascinating statement. Grace is receiving something you do not deserve. Mercy is not getting what you do deserve.
Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. In essence, Bartimaeus was saying: Do not give me what I deserve. Do not do what everybody else has done to me. Do not shun me, do not ignore me, do not walk past me.
But when he said "Son of David," he was making a profound prophetic statement. According to 2 Samuel 7, the Messiah would come from the lineage of David. So when Bartimaeus called Jesus "Son of David," he was saying: You are the fulfillment of all Old Testament prophecy.
Bartimaeus was blind and could not see with his physical eyes, but with the eyes of his heart he believed. He saw who Jesus truly was.
Let me tell you about my daughter. I was at McDonald's with my kids, and we went to the playground—a massive three-story area with tubes and a cargo net. My youngest daughter, Liv, got stuck on the cargo net and began screaming, "Daddy, come get me!"
All of a sudden, I heard her above all the other children. There is something about being a parent—when your kid cries out for help, you hear them no matter where you are. I looked up at her blue eyes and blonde hair, and she was looking down at me saying, "Daddy, come get me."
I am looking at Grimace—if you do not know who Grimace is, you can Google that. Grimace was telling me I was too tall to get into the playground. I tried standing on my tippy toes and reaching up to the cargo net, like E.T. phoning home.
She kept screaming, "Daddy, come get me!" So I looked at her sisters and said, "By any means necessary, drag her out." They dragged her out and pushed her down the slide. She jumped into my arms.
She said to me, "Daddy, I knew you would come get me."
Here is what I want you to understand: When Bartimaeus was crying out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me," it sounded to Jesus like this: Daddy, come get me.
I am not trying to water down the prophetic statement. I just need you to know that when Jesus hears his children cry out to him, he responds.
The Bible says that Jesus stopped. Where was Jesus going? He was on his way to Jerusalem. He was on his way to the cross.
But at the cry of one man—"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me"—the Savior of the world stopped.
Two words that should rock our soul tonight: Jesus stopped.
The Bible says that Jesus stopped. Where was Jesus going? He was on his way to Jerusalem, on his way to the cross. But at the cry of one man—"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me"—the Savior of the world stopped. Two words that should rock our soul tonight: Jesus stopped.
"Isn't this what encounters about? Jesus would you stop here?"
Jesus stops in any place where there is a spirit of desperation with a single-minded desire. I'm surrounded by some brothers and sisters who just want Jesus above all things. You're the hope of the world. The government can't rescue us. Society can't rescue us. It's you. You are the hope of the world, Jesus, King of Kings.
Here's something fascinating: when Jesus stopped, the people walking with Jesus told Bartimaeus to stop. Look at verse 48—the people walking with Jesus heard Bartimaeus crying out, "Son of David, have mercy on me," and at that moment they looked at him and said stop. The Bible says they rebuked him—in the Greek, it's like saying, "Shut up with all that. He ain't got time for that."
But when Jesus stopped and these people told him to stop, Jesus responded by telling those same people to call him forward. Jesus stopped; the people telling him to stop were not listened to. Instead, Jesus says, "No, no, no. Tell him I'm calling him."
Could you imagine that moment? You just tried to speak on behalf of Jesus and actually misrepresented Him. Now Jesus—who stopped, who watched you tell this man to stop—tells you to come here and say, "I'm calling you." Jesus essentially says, "No, no, no. He's the one I came for right now."
Everybody walks by Bartimaeus. We know him. But he's discounted goods. God says, "No, no, no. I take broken pieces and I make masterpieces. That's what I do. That's who Jesus is." When you just told a man to basically shut up because Jesus doesn't have time for him, Jesus goes, "No, I got nothing but time for him."
A spirit of desperation in a single-minded desire always gets the heart and attention of our Savior.
Bartimaeus was crying out desperately. He was a blind beggar, excluded from society, but he cried out with everything he had.
He wasn't distracted by the crowd telling him to be quiet or by his circumstances. His singular focus was on Jesus.
Here's where this gets beautiful. Verse 50 says, "Throwing off his cloak he sprang up and came to Jesus." The blind man threw aside his garment and sprang up.
You might ask: "Ed, I get points one and two, but what do you mean by surrendered his dependencies?"
Look at the detail in verse 50—he threw aside his garment. It's the one thing that was actually between Bartimaeus and Jesus. The cloak was the blanket, the sleeping bag. If you've done any homeless ministry, you understand: what's in their possession is their greatest possession. This was the only thing he had.
Yet, it was between him and Jesus.
But here's the thing—if you're blind in a culture that's discounted you as damaged goods, you don't throw aside anything. You're not getting help from anybody. You need that blanket. You need that security. But Bartimaeus threw it aside.
I grew up in government-subsidized housing. It was the coolest apartment complex. All my neighbors were disabled. Every single person in that apartment complex had a blue handicapped parking sticker hanging from the rearview mirror. One of my neighbors was a Special Olympics wheelchair athlete. In third grade, she taught me how to do wheelies in wheelchairs—and I'm almost 49 years old now, and I still think about that woman.
But there was a blind neighbor next to her. He was blind. I remember watching him go to the grocery store called Piggly Wiggly, which was two miles from our apartment complex. As a kid in third, fourth, or fifth grade, I had no filter. So I asked him one day, "How do you grocery shop when you don't see?"
He just smiled because we were neighbors, and he said, "Ed, let me tell you. I got the whole store memorized."
"How do you have the whole store memorized?" I asked.
"The manager helps me," he explained. "He walks me up and down every aisle, and in my mind's eye I see everything. From the counter, I have counted the number of steps to the sliding door. From the sliding door to the curb. From the curb to the sidewalk. From the sidewalk to the path. I know the number of steps. It's calculated. It's meticulous. I know the exact number of steps it takes to get back to my house."
Then one day I read this Bible verse where Jesus calls him, and he throws aside his garment. Why? Because he knew: If I could just talk to this man, I won't need anybody's help. I'll be able to pick it up on my own. I won't have to count the steps. If I could just get to him, he changes everything.
They called him blind—Bartimaeus. But when he gets to Jesus, they'll just call him Bart. He changes everything.
Encounter is about changing your identity. But whatever is between you and Jesus—whatever is preventing you from seeing Jesus for who He is and what He wants to do in your life—needs to be thrown aside.
I'm not saying it's like a garment. I'm not saying it's a sleeping bag. But it could be anything. We've taken a blessing from God and made it an idol. Or it could be sin that we continue to run back to. It's like what Jeremiah 2 says—empty wells that hold no water.
Whatever is between you and Jesus needs to be thrown aside.
Jesus calls him, and verse 51 says, "Jesus said to him, what do you want me to do for you?"
I literally talk out loud to the Bible at this point. I'm like, "Jesus, He's blind! Hello? He's Jesus! You're infinite in wisdom. You're omniscient. Why would you ask such a random question?"
But the Spirit of God put this in my mailbox: Sometimes you've got to have crazy faith enough to say it out loud.
If Jesus was standing here at the front right now and you had 30 seconds, and He looked at you and said, "What do you want me to do for you?" What would your answer be?
Here's the harder question: If you got your answer, would you still follow Jesus? Would you still follow Him? Because most people just seek Jesus because of what's in His hands, not what's in His heart.
Bartimaeus says to Him, "Rabbi, let me recover my sight."
Jesus speaks that over him. Blink. Nothing. Blink. Nothing. Blink. And for the first time in his entire life—when his eyelids click open—he has never seen anything. But the first thing he sees in his entire life is Jesus. He sees Him fully.
Encounter is: Open the eyes of my heart to see you for who you are and what you've done.
Then Jesus said to him, "Go your way. Your faith has made you well." Immediately he recovered his sight and—here's the phrase—he followed Him on the way.
Jesus literally tells him, "I gave you what you wanted. Go your way. Go wherever you want to do. Go live your life." But instead, he follows Jesus.
Where did he follow Him? We don't know fully in Scripture. But when I get to heaven, I'm going to ask, "Hey, Bart. I really feel like you followed Him to the cross. Were you there?"
And I believe he'll say, "Yeah, I was there. How could I not follow Him there for what He did for me?"
Encounter leads us to always come back to the cross, where grace and forgiveness flow down. The ground at the cross is level for all of us. Our church membership, our righteousness, our good deeds—they don't elevate us. No. The ground at the cross is level.
It's a spirit of desperation. It's a single-minded desire. But here's the invitation tonight:
Surrender your dependencies and come to the cross.
When God calls you to step into spaces, you may feel unequipped, but God equips those who are called. He gives you the provision in the midst of the vision. God is not looking for ability—he is looking for availability.
I came off the road as a traveling evangelist for 13 years and became a pastor for the first time at a church with 379 employees. I had never led a team before, yet God made a way. That loneliness was met when I found community and encouragement from leaders around me.
My grandmother was a woman of profound faith. She grew up in Pilot Mountain, North Carolina, and worked as a beautician for 65 years, refusing retirement so she could help get her grandson through Bible College. She would pray with great expectation that I would give my life to Jesus and one day become a preacher of the gospel.
I remember telling her, "Granny Boo, I love you, but would you please stop praying that I'll be a preacher?" Some of the most socially awkward people I'd ever met were preachers, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Yet my grandmother kept praying.
My mother was told by doctors she could not have children due to cerebral palsy. But my grandmother took my mother to a healing service in Charlotte, North Carolina—a tent revival. When the evangelist called for those needing healing to come forward, my mother walked up. The evangelist spoke to my mother, but she couldn't hear him because she was deaf. My mother looked at my grandmother and asked in sign language, "What did he say?" My grandmother responded, "He just told you that you're pregnant."
That was me. I did not know this truth until four years ago when my aunt sent me a page from my grandmother's journal.
What if tonight this service is pregnant with expectation? What if this is a defining moment where you receive the revelation of how God sees you and how he is for you? Wouldn't it be amazing to know what God thinks about you right now? To see the full appointment and anointing and destiny on your life without having to wait until someone is gone to understand its significance?
I wish I had known these things while my mother was alive. But now it is in my heart and soul, and God has sent me from San Antonio, Texas to put this in your spirit: God wants to speak into your life for such a time as this. You were created for this moment. You were formed and fashioned for this purpose.
Let's look at Mark 10:46-48. Jesus was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd. A blind beggar named Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"
Many rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he cried out all the more: "Son of David, have mercy on me!"
Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem where he would be betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, tried unlawfully, beaten, smitten, blasphemed, and crucified. Yet as he came through Jericho, there was a man named Bartimaeus who understood something critical.
When the disciples saw handicapped people, they would ask Jesus, "Who sinned—the mother, the father, or this person?" They believed that disability was God's judgment for sin. But that is an incorrect mindset.
People with disabilities are not people with disabilities—they are people with different abilities. One element of their life may be removed, but there are superpowers in other categories.
Bartimaeus had no government-subsidized housing, no social security, no aid for the disabled. He lived in a moment where people spoke with judgment. But he found himself at the crossroads of helplessness and hopelessness, and he heard that the Miracle Worker, the pain taker, the way maker—the one who changes everybody he comes into contact with—was coming through.
When you find yourself at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness, and the Savior of the world is coming through, you do not remain silent.
When our world begins to unravel at the seams, it is interesting that we call everybody else except the one who can actually help us. Let me tell you a story.
I was living in Memphis, on my way to a speaking engagement in Mississippi. My fuel gauge was on "E," the light was blinking, and I thought to myself, I think I can make it. I coasted into a gas station on fumes, filled up the tank with $55, and then realized I could not find my wallet. I had no credit card, nothing. I was 45 minutes from my house with no money.
I could not call my wife—she had warned me this would happen. So I went through my phone looking for any number with a 662 area code (Mississippi). I found a number in red with no contact name assigned to it. I randomly called it.
When someone answered, I said, "Hello, who is this?" They said, "No, who's this? You called me." I said, "My name is Ed Newton." He said, "Ed Newton? Hey man, it's John Carbo." I knew this person.
He said, "Ed, are you okay? You sound like something is wrong." I told him I was at a gas station, 45 minutes from home, with no cash or credit card, and I did not know what to do.
He said, "Tell me the crossroads you're at." When I named them, he said, "You're not going to believe this—I'm at a red light looking at that exact gas station right now."
When you are at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness, who do you call? Those numbers in red are for God. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.
You might say, "Pastor Ed, I don't have his diagnosis. I don't have his struggle." But according to the Bible:
None is righteous, no, not one. (Romans 3:10)
All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)
Our sins have separated us from God. (Isaiah 59:2)
Our righteous deeds are like filthy rags. (Isaiah 64)
No one seeks after God. (Romans 3:11)
We are dead in our transgressions and incapable of pursuing God in and of ourselves. (Ephesians 2:1)
Even the faith we have been given to see Jesus for who he is—that is a gift from him.
When we find ourselves at the intersection of helplessness and hopelessness and Jesus steps into that space, everything changes.
Bartimaeus cried out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" This is a fascinating statement. Grace is receiving something you do not deserve. Mercy is not getting what you do deserve.
Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. In essence, Bartimaeus was saying: Do not give me what I deserve. Do not do what everybody else has done to me. Do not shun me, do not ignore me, do not walk past me.
But when he said "Son of David," he was making a profound prophetic statement. According to 2 Samuel 7, the Messiah would come from the lineage of David. So when Bartimaeus called Jesus "Son of David," he was saying: You are the fulfillment of all Old Testament prophecy.
Bartimaeus was blind and could not see with his physical eyes, but with the eyes of his heart he believed. He saw who Jesus truly was.
Let me tell you about my daughter. I was at McDonald's with my kids, and we went to the playground—a massive three-story area with tubes and a cargo net. My youngest daughter, Liv, got stuck on the cargo net and began screaming, "Daddy, come get me!"
All of a sudden, I heard her above all the other children. There is something about being a parent—when your kid cries out for help, you hear them no matter where you are. I looked up at her blue eyes and blonde hair, and she was looking down at me saying, "Daddy, come get me."
I am looking at Grimace—if you do not know who Grimace is, you can Google that. Grimace was telling me I was too tall to get into the playground. I tried standing on my tippy toes and reaching up to the cargo net, like E.T. phoning home.
She kept screaming, "Daddy, come get me!" So I looked at her sisters and said, "By any means necessary, drag her out." They dragged her out and pushed her down the slide. She jumped into my arms.
She said to me, "Daddy, I knew you would come get me."
Here is what I want you to understand: When Bartimaeus was crying out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me," it sounded to Jesus like this: Daddy, come get me.
I am not trying to water down the prophetic statement. I just need you to know that when Jesus hears his children cry out to him, he responds.
The Bible says that Jesus stopped. Where was Jesus going? He was on his way to Jerusalem. He was on his way to the cross.
But at the cry of one man—"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me"—the Savior of the world stopped.
Two words that should rock our soul tonight: Jesus stopped.
The Bible says that Jesus stopped. Where was Jesus going? He was on his way to Jerusalem, on his way to the cross. But at the cry of one man—"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me"—the Savior of the world stopped. Two words that should rock our soul tonight: Jesus stopped.
"Isn't this what encounters about? Jesus would you stop here?"
Jesus stops in any place where there is a spirit of desperation with a single-minded desire. I'm surrounded by some brothers and sisters who just want Jesus above all things. You're the hope of the world. The government can't rescue us. Society can't rescue us. It's you. You are the hope of the world, Jesus, King of Kings.
Here's something fascinating: when Jesus stopped, the people walking with Jesus told Bartimaeus to stop. Look at verse 48—the people walking with Jesus heard Bartimaeus crying out, "Son of David, have mercy on me," and at that moment they looked at him and said stop. The Bible says they rebuked him—in the Greek, it's like saying, "Shut up with all that. He ain't got time for that."
But when Jesus stopped and these people told him to stop, Jesus responded by telling those same people to call him forward. Jesus stopped; the people telling him to stop were not listened to. Instead, Jesus says, "No, no, no. Tell him I'm calling him."
Could you imagine that moment? You just tried to speak on behalf of Jesus and actually misrepresented Him. Now Jesus—who stopped, who watched you tell this man to stop—tells you to come here and say, "I'm calling you." Jesus essentially says, "No, no, no. He's the one I came for right now."
Everybody walks by Bartimaeus. We know him. But he's discounted goods. God says, "No, no, no. I take broken pieces and I make masterpieces. That's what I do. That's who Jesus is." When you just told a man to basically shut up because Jesus doesn't have time for him, Jesus goes, "No, I got nothing but time for him."
A spirit of desperation in a single-minded desire always gets the heart and attention of our Savior.
Bartimaeus was crying out desperately. He was a blind beggar, excluded from society, but he cried out with everything he had.
He wasn't distracted by the crowd telling him to be quiet or by his circumstances. His singular focus was on Jesus.
Here's where this gets beautiful. Verse 50 says, "Throwing off his cloak he sprang up and came to Jesus." The blind man threw aside his garment and sprang up.
You might ask: "Ed, I get points one and two, but what do you mean by surrendered his dependencies?"
Look at the detail in verse 50—he threw aside his garment. It's the one thing that was actually between Bartimaeus and Jesus. The cloak was the blanket, the sleeping bag. If you've done any homeless ministry, you understand: what's in their possession is their greatest possession. This was the only thing he had.
Yet, it was between him and Jesus.
But here's the thing—if you're blind in a culture that's discounted you as damaged goods, you don't throw aside anything. You're not getting help from anybody. You need that blanket. You need that security. But Bartimaeus threw it aside.
I grew up in government-subsidized housing. It was the coolest apartment complex. All my neighbors were disabled. Every single person in that apartment complex had a blue handicapped parking sticker hanging from the rearview mirror. One of my neighbors was a Special Olympics wheelchair athlete. In third grade, she taught me how to do wheelies in wheelchairs—and I'm almost 49 years old now, and I still think about that woman.
But there was a blind neighbor next to her. He was blind. I remember watching him go to the grocery store called Piggly Wiggly, which was two miles from our apartment complex. As a kid in third, fourth, or fifth grade, I had no filter. So I asked him one day, "How do you grocery shop when you don't see?"
He just smiled because we were neighbors, and he said, "Ed, let me tell you. I got the whole store memorized."
"How do you have the whole store memorized?" I asked.
"The manager helps me," he explained. "He walks me up and down every aisle, and in my mind's eye I see everything. From the counter, I have counted the number of steps to the sliding door. From the sliding door to the curb. From the curb to the sidewalk. From the sidewalk to the path. I know the number of steps. It's calculated. It's meticulous. I know the exact number of steps it takes to get back to my house."
Then one day I read this Bible verse where Jesus calls him, and he throws aside his garment. Why? Because he knew: If I could just talk to this man, I won't need anybody's help. I'll be able to pick it up on my own. I won't have to count the steps. If I could just get to him, he changes everything.
They called him blind—Bartimaeus. But when he gets to Jesus, they'll just call him Bart. He changes everything.
Encounter is about changing your identity. But whatever is between you and Jesus—whatever is preventing you from seeing Jesus for who He is and what He wants to do in your life—needs to be thrown aside.
I'm not saying it's like a garment. I'm not saying it's a sleeping bag. But it could be anything. We've taken a blessing from God and made it an idol. Or it could be sin that we continue to run back to. It's like what Jeremiah 2 says—empty wells that hold no water.
Whatever is between you and Jesus needs to be thrown aside.
Jesus calls him, and verse 51 says, "Jesus said to him, what do you want me to do for you?"
I literally talk out loud to the Bible at this point. I'm like, "Jesus, He's blind! Hello? He's Jesus! You're infinite in wisdom. You're omniscient. Why would you ask such a random question?"
But the Spirit of God put this in my mailbox: Sometimes you've got to have crazy faith enough to say it out loud.
If Jesus was standing here at the front right now and you had 30 seconds, and He looked at you and said, "What do you want me to do for you?" What would your answer be?
Here's the harder question: If you got your answer, would you still follow Jesus? Would you still follow Him? Because most people just seek Jesus because of what's in His hands, not what's in His heart.
Bartimaeus says to Him, "Rabbi, let me recover my sight."
Jesus speaks that over him. Blink. Nothing. Blink. Nothing. Blink. And for the first time in his entire life—when his eyelids click open—he has never seen anything. But the first thing he sees in his entire life is Jesus. He sees Him fully.
Encounter is: Open the eyes of my heart to see you for who you are and what you've done.
Then Jesus said to him, "Go your way. Your faith has made you well." Immediately he recovered his sight and—here's the phrase—he followed Him on the way.
Jesus literally tells him, "I gave you what you wanted. Go your way. Go wherever you want to do. Go live your life." But instead, he follows Jesus.
Where did he follow Him? We don't know fully in Scripture. But when I get to heaven, I'm going to ask, "Hey, Bart. I really feel like you followed Him to the cross. Were you there?"
And I believe he'll say, "Yeah, I was there. How could I not follow Him there for what He did for me?"
Encounter leads us to always come back to the cross, where grace and forgiveness flow down. The ground at the cross is level for all of us. Our church membership, our righteousness, our good deeds—they don't elevate us. No. The ground at the cross is level.
It's a spirit of desperation. It's a single-minded desire. But here's the invitation tonight:
Surrender your dependencies and come to the cross.
