(som-74) Eyes Wide Open, Yet Still Blind

Sermon on the Mount (74)

Part 1. When It Is Time to Leave — and Why Some Cannot

If you ever hear me say that I cannot sleep at night because of someone I hate, that is when you must leave me.

If words ever come from my mouth saying that God’s kingdom is going wrong because of some particular person, that is when you must leave me.

The reason is this: even as I teach the Scripture, it will only become a Scripture that poisons your heart.

Leave without hesitation.

But if that never happens, you are welcome to stay.

There is one reason — and one reason alone — why we cannot hate anyone to the very end of our days on this earth.

It is because we can never forget how the love of the Lord and the love of the Father has been worked out in us. That is why it will remain so to the end.

This is not something I boast about.

When Paul boasted, it was always on the premise that God’s power and the boundless love of Christ had been and would continue to be at work. That is what gave him the confidence to make such a declaration.

He was not staking the claim on himself — he was boasting on the premise of Christ.

Not a boast of my own doing, but a boast of what He causes to be done.

Now then — ἐλεέω (eleeō, G1653): “to have mercy,” “to show compassion.”

Through this word, let us look together at how Jesus performed the work of the forgiveness of sins in the Gospel of Matthew.

And when Jesus departed thence, two blind men followed him, crying, and saying, Thou Son of David, have mercy on us.

And when he was come into the house, the blind men came to him: and Jesus saith unto them, Believe ye that I am able to do this? They said unto him, Yea, Lord.

Then touched he their eyes, saying, According to your faith be it unto you.

And their eyes were opened; and Jesus straitly charged them, saying, See that no man know it.

(Matthew 9:27–30)

Why did He open the eyes of the blind men there?

There is a reason He suddenly gave sight to the blind. Let us look at that reason carefully.

Part 2. Who Am I? — Those Who See and Yet Do Not Know

And, behold, a woman, which was diseased with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment:

For she said within herself, If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.

But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour.

And when Jesus came into the ruler’s house, and saw the minstrels and the people making a noise,

He said unto them, Give place: for the maid is not dead, but sleepeth. And they laughed him to scorn.

But when the people were put forth, he went in, and took her by the hand, and the maid arose.

And the fame hereof went abroad into all that land (γῆ).

And when Jesus departed thence, two blind men followed him, crying, and saying, Thou Son of David, have mercy on us.

And when he was come into the house, the blind men came to him: and Jesus saith unto them, Believe ye that I am able to do this?

They said unto him, Yea, Lord.

(Matthew 9:20–28)

Now. You are there with Jesus. Word has just come that Jairus the synagogue ruler’s — the pastor’s — daughter is dying, and you are all on the way there.

Everyone is pressing forward with urgent steps, when who should appear? A woman who had suffered from an issue of blood for twelve years — and if you follow the account into Luke as well, a woman who had spent everything she had going from physician to physician, none of whom could heal her.

Because she had this bleeding condition, she could not enter God’s temple — not even the Court of the Women. In a word, she was a woman who had no way to draw near to God. No one had been able to heal her.

Judea is no bigger than a single province, yet for twelve years she had gone from one end of it to the other seeking out physicians, until at last she gave up.

And yet — she was healed.

How many people were with Jesus at that moment?

There were the twelve disciples, and then Jairus the synagogue ruler who had come running, along with those who accompanied him, and then the messengers who arrived to announce that Jairus’s daughter had already died — all together it was a large crowd pressing around Him.

So what should those around them have been saying?

If the one whom even the religious leaders of Judaism could not heal had just been healed — who should Jesus have appeared to be in their eyes?

And yet — after all that — when they went into Jairus’s house, what happened?

Everyone in that house laughed Him to scorn.

And what were the disciples doing?

Suppose you were one of those twelve disciples who had been walking alongside Jesus. When the others laughed Him to scorn, what should you have done?

When people mock someone who shares your table — your own family — what would you do?

And remember: they were on their way to raise someone from the dead.

The trouble is, He actually did it. Did Jairus say even a single word?

Think about it. If your own son or daughter lay dying — barely breathing — and someone raised them back to life, what would you do?

If I had brought back the child you treasured with your very life, would you not cling to me and fall at my feet and make a scene of it?

And yet — look at this. Even when He raised the dead, the people simply moved on. And the disciples stood there with their eyes wide open, staring.

In the midst of all this, as He continued on the road, whose eyes did He open next?

Who do these blind men call out to in verse 27?

Look carefully.

Set aside the ambition of wanting to become a minister who receives some kind of “power” to open blind eyes — and read the Scripture with care.

The scribes and Pharisees following Jesus around, hurling accusations.

Jairus the synagogue ruler, not offering so much as a word of thanks even after his daughter was raised.

And the disciples, silent as if they had swallowed something they could not speak.

Jesus is saying to all of them: You are the blind ones. Every last one of you is blind.

Jairus and his daughter went through something extraordinary — and yet their names simply disappear from the pages of Scripture after that. What does that mean?

It means they were people who lived out a borrowed stretch of time and then were gone, just the same as before.

Even grace received came to nothing. It ended there.

The disciples following Him — though they said with their mouths that they had left everything behind to follow Him — whenever things did not match their measure, they would stand there before Jesus with wide eyes, saying nothing.

And then the moment something happened, the people would say: Who is this? Who is he, to show such signs?

The disciples had nothing even like that. Only silence.

That is why Jesus asked: Who do men say that I am? — Who am I?

And then He simply passed on without a word.

That is the ministry of the Son of God.