Lessons from a Blind Man

Blind Bartimaeus Receives His Sight

"Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus."What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him.The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”“Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road." -Mark 10: 45-52

Once again, Friday morning comes, and excitement rattles my bones. ESL classes at Highrock have been so life-giving for me here in Cambridge. Gathered in a room full of believers and non-believers alike, we delve into the Word after English class to receive fresh insight in ways that I've never experienced before. Today, God spoke against my stubborn tendency to do. I find myself constantly asking, "God, what can I do for you?" when He is actually telling me something else.

Be like the blind beggar, Cathy. Throw your cloak aside. Throw aside your most treasured possession and come to me. Jump to your feet and come to me. 

As I look through my emails and long list of to-dos, I'm starting to understand now.

What do you want me to do for you?

This is mind-boggling. This is almost exasperating. How could the God of the universe, the God of my very breath moving through my lungs right now, dare ask me this question?

Lord, I want more faith. I want to see you the way the blind man did. Because if I don't see you for who you really are, I will never be willing or able to throw my cloak aside. Grant me this. 

Nana

She threw her head back and chuckled her loud, boisterous laugh.

You would have never guessed that she came from poverty.

And that she tasted the bitterness of homelessness.

She taught me many things that afternoon in Toah Nipi.

I got my blanket stolen right off me while sleeping at the shelter.

Sometimes they take your shoes, so you sleep with them on.

Oh, but that blanket. How I miss that soft blanket.

Of course you can offer your leftovers. 

As long as you ask, I assure you 9 times out of 10 they'll take it.

Just make sure you ask. 

Once we were all in line, baking in the heat, to get a spot at the shelter.

Across the street, a church was cooking hot dogs for us.

My mouth was watering and I wanted it so bad.

But I had to decide whether to give up my spot in line or wait it out.

I decided to wait so I could get a place to sleep that night.

Others couldn't resist and went for the hot dog.

But they didn't get no place to sleep for the night. 

You see, I was mentally ill.

I was hearing voices in my head telling me crazy things.

I needed help. Some of these people are just like that.

They once had a normal life, but something went on inside that head.

But Jesus rescued me.

Oh yes, yes He did.

Thank you Nana.

For patiently answering all my questions.

Jesus is so alive in you, I keep thinking of you.

Thoughts from a Quiet Place

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. -Mark 6:31-32

It was nice to get away. 

To get lost in the woods. To be suspended in the waters.

To see the familiar foliage that decorated my childhood in the east coast.

We chewed on Mark 2 for three days.

The story of four friends bringing Jesus their paralyzed friend.

Four friends who made a hole in the roof so Jesus would heal him.

Some key takeaways from the characters:

Jesus

am I also open to disruption?

how do I give evidence of God's power?

am I a "slave to efficiency" or open to God's radical plans?

Paralyzed man

do I allow myself to be supported by others?

do I obey, no matter the circumstance?

do I accept his unconditional forgiveness?

Friends

am I willing to sacrifice for my friend(s)?

do I believe that my faith can heal my friends?

do I wait for an "agenda" or do I simply bring my friend to Jesus?

Teachers of the law

do I understand that Jesus is "unconventional"?

am I open to change?

do I fully understand that God sees my heart?

Crowd

how do I respond to disruption?

do I make room for those who are hurting?

do I come with expectation?

May I never grow tired of learning.

May I never grow weary of leaning on my God.

When Sisters Visit

Thankful for these beautiful souls.

When Cabell 104 did Boston.

October 14-17.

Nemo needs a wash.

English is Hard

het·er·o·nym

ˈhedərəˌnim/

noun

LINGUISTICS

1. 1.

   each of two or more words that are spelled identically but have different sounds and meanings, such as tear meaning “rip” and tear meaning “liquid from the eye.”
2. 2.

   each of two or more words that are used to refer to the identical thing in different geographical areas of a speech community, such as submarine sandwich, hoagie, and grinder.

May I never forget the challenges and frustrations with learning a second language.

May I never forget what it felt like standing in those lines at the bakery and stumbling over my order in Paris.

May I never forget how her face flushed red when the cashier repeatedly asked her to repeat her request. 

May I never forget the embarrassment when the professor scoffed at my pronunciation of preuve.

May I always remember the deep joy of connecting to someone dans sa langue maternelle.

Forgiveness

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

No hint of judgment. No hint of pity.

Just eyes full of compassion.

My eyes welled up as I took in this stranger's words.

Oh how quickly my hurt, anger, and bitterness dissipated. 

It was a chance meeting. I simply followed a friend who wanted to see a free documentary about a hospice in Scotland that was offering a type of palliative care unlike many we see around here. I didn't think I could relate to the film until a panel took form on stage after the showing. One of the panelists was the chair of Psycho-social Oncology and Palliative Care at the Cancer Institute here. As he spoke on his area of research, which was the ways in which doctors had conversations with patients diagnosed with terminal illnesses, my ears perked up and I sat up in my seat. 

Suddenly I was back in that tiny office in Dallas with my dad. His young oncologist nonchalantly responds that dad's sickness has gone into his bones and that "of course" it was stage 4. My fingers clench the bottom of my seat and I quickly excuse myself from the office to cry silently in the parking lot. I'm angry and hurt--what does this doctor know about this magnificent man sitting before him? I grow embittered by his callous response, leaving no room for forgiveness--for the possibility of his own detachment from patients as a protective measure for his own heart in this field of oncology. 

It would be a year and a half later in Boston where I would finally be able to forgive and let go. I awkwardly stood around the refreshment table waiting for him to appear from the theater doors and grew disheartened when he was quickly approached by several guests, one clearly going on about her own stories. He spots me waiting nervously and eventually politely cuts off the lady to approach me. I had plenty of time to rehearse my questions for this very busy man, but the minute he thanks me for waiting, my words spill out into a messy puddle. My awful visit to the oncologist, my fear of switching doctors, my frustration at the callous insensitivity we received, my tears that afternoon. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

At that moment, I knew that God brought me to hear those words for a reason. There was a man I needed to forgive, and I was going to hear the apology from a fellow physician states away. There is no connection between the two men, This man before me had nothing to do with the hurt and frustration that I experienced back in Dallas. And yet, his words would heal me. And it would be more than enough.  

Thank you, Dr. James Tulsky.

Thank you for your research.

Thank you for your kindness. 

Thank you for seeing the hurting person in me. 

Thank you Lord for knowing the deepest depths of my heart and for freeing me each day. Thank you once again for your divine appointments. 

Crossing the Charles River

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow."

-Mary Jean Irion

Being in a 9-month graduate program is like experiencing freshman and senior year at the same time. It's my first year and it's my last year. It's my first fall and my last fall. It is almost as if I came with a set notion that I will leave soon. While this mindset has allowed me to really reflect before making every decision (where I will live, what church I will commit to, what courses I will take, etc.), I am also realizing that it has almost convinced me that I am in control of everything. That there is ONE right path, and I must choose the right one because my entire future is at stake. I've been feeling very  s t u c k  while grappling with these decisions, and I almost envy the Charles River, which I pass on a frequent basis. 

I love that it just flows. There are ripples and not all are the same. It invites the city to admire it, enjoy it, bask in it. Honestly, it's not really that special (actually quite dirty if you ask me), but what makes it beautiful is its surroundings. How the sun's last rays dance across its surface, how the city lights cast its glittering lights across it. It just is. 

Lord, you called me here. You uprooted me from a deep, loving community in Dallas and gently placed me here all the way out here in Cambridge. So during this season, help me to be present. So present. I do not want to lose what you have for me today because I am already eagerly chasing after tomorrow. 

So here's a humble reminder that tomorrow is not guaranteed.

But the Lord's goodness and faithfulness I can rely on. 

And a gentle reminder that He is with me now.