Mark 10:51

And Jesus asks the blind man so that they would not say that He gives something other than what the blind man wanted.

And Jesus answered and said unto him,.... Being come to him, and standing before him: what wilt thou that I should do unto thee? What means this vehement cry? what is it thou designest by mercy? is it money thou askest for, to relieve thy wants? or is it that thy sight may be restored?

Here we have him in the coasts of Judea, by the further side of Jordan eastward, as we found him, not long since, in the utmost borders westward, near Tyre and Sidon. Thus was his circuit like that of the sun, from whose light and heat nothing is hid.

We read in these verses an account of one of our Lord's miracles. Let us see in it, as we read, a vivid emblem of spiritual things. We are not studying a history which concerns us personally no more than the exploits of Caesar or Alexander. We have before us a picture which ought to be deeply interesting to the soul of every Christian. In the first place, we have here an example of strong faith . We are told that as Jesus went out of Jericho, a blind man named Bartimaeus "sat by the wayside begging.

[Another Sermon by Mr. Spurgeon upon the same text is #266, Volume 5—THE BLIND BEGGAR.] The blind man described in this narrative is a picture of what I earnestly desire that every hearer and reader of my sermons may become. In his first condition, Bartimaeus was a type of what the sinner is by nature—blind, hopelessly blind, unless the healing Savior shall interfere and pour in upon him the light of day. It is not, however, to this point that we shall now turn our thoughts, but to his conduct while seeking sight.

No doubt our Lord's disciples imagined that He was going up to Jerusalem to take unto Himself the Kingdom. They hoped that they would be partakers of that earthly grandeur which they had fondly pictured would glitter around the Person of the Son of David. When, therefore, the blind man ventured to cry out clamorously to Him, whom they esteemed to be a great King, they thought it a daring intrusion. Who was the son of Timaeus that he should say, "You Son of David, have mercy on me"?

We read in these verses an account of one of our Lord's miracles. Let us see in it, as we read, a vivid emblem of spiritual things. We are not studying a history which concerns us personally no more than the exploits of Caesar or Alexander. We have before us a picture which ought to be deeply interesting to the soul of every Christian. In the first place, we have here an example of strong faith . We are told that as Jesus went out of Jericho, a blind man named Bartimaeus "sat by the wayside begging. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out, and say, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." Bartimaeus was blind in body, but not in soul. The eyes of his understanding were open. He saw things which Annas and Caiaphas, and hosts of letter-learned Scribes and Pharisees, never saw at all. He saw that Jesus of Nazareth, as our Lord was contemptuously called — Jesus, who had lived for thirty years in an obscure Galilean village — this very Jesus was the Son of David — the Messiah of whom prophets had prophesied long ago. He had witnessed none of our Lord's mighty miracles. He had not had the opportunity of beholding dead people raised with a word, and lepers healed by a touch. Of all these privileges, his blindness totally deprived him. But he had heard the report of our Lord's mighty works, and hearing had believed. He was satisfied from mere hear-say, that He of whom such wonderful things were reported, must be the promised Savior, and must be able to heal him. And so when our Lord drew near, he cried, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." Let us strive and pray that we may have like precious faith. Like Bartimaeus, we are not allowed to see Jesus with our bodily eyes. But we have the report of His power, and grace, and willingness to save, in the Gospel. We have exceeding great promises from His own lips, written down for our encouragement.

THIS POOR MAN was beset with two great evils—blindness and poverty. It is sad enough to be blind, but If a man that is blind is in possession of riches, there are ten thousand comforts which may help to cheer the darkness of his eye and alleviate the sadness of his heart. But to be both blind and poor, these were a combination of the sternest evils. One thinks it scarcely possible to resist the cry of a beggar whom we meet in the street if he is blind.

THIS POOR MAN was beset with two great evils—blindness and poverty. It is sad enough to be blind, but If a man that is blind is in possession of riches, there are ten thousand comforts which may help to cheer the darkness of his eye and alleviate the sadness of his heart. But to be both blind and poor, these were a combination of the sternest evils. One thinks it scarcely possible to resist the cry of a beggar whom we meet in the street if he is blind. We pity the blind man when he is surrounded with luxury, but when we see a blind man in want, and following the beggar’s trade in the frequented streets, we can hardly forbear stopping to assist him. This case of Bartimeus, however, is but a picture of our own. We are all by nature blind and poor. It is true we account ourselves able enough to see; but this is but one phase of our blindness. Our blindness is of such a kind that it makes us think our vision perfect; whereas, when we are enlightened by the Holy Spirit, we discover our previous sight to have been blindness indeed. Spiritually, we are blind; we are unable to discern our lost estate; unable to behold the blackness of sin, or the terrors of the wrath to come. The unrenewed mind is so blind, that it perceives not the allattractive beauty of Christ; the Sun of Righteousness may arise with healing beneath his wings, but ‘twere all in vain for those who cannot see his shining. Christ may do many mighty works in their presence, but they do not recognize his glory; we are blind until he has opened our eyes. But besides being blind we are also by nature poor. Our father Adam spent our birthright, lost our estates.

THAT was a very strange question to ask a blind man. Everybody could see that he was blind—they could tell by the way he struggled through the crowd, that he was blind. His very voice, which had long been used in begging, would show that he was a blind mendicant. There he stood before the Savior and Jesus knew what he wanted, yet He put to him this singular question, "What do you want Me to do for you?"

THAT was a very strange question to ask a blind man. Everybody could see that he was blind—they could tell by the way he struggled through the crowd, that he was blind. His very voice, which had long been used in begging, would show that he was a blind mendicant. There he stood before the Savior and Jesus knew what he wanted, yet He put to him this singular question, "What do you want Me to do for you?" The great Son of David knew that the man who cried to Him, "Have mercy on me," really meant by that plea, "Lord, give me my sight." Yet our blessed Lord never asked a foolish question and never spoke an idle word. There is a deep meaning, a gracious reason, in all that He says. It will be my business at this time to try to show you the reasons for this question. And while I do so, I want to speak, not so much to you people who are converted and who know the Savior, but I want to address any here who have not yet been brought to the feet of Jesus, but who are longing to be saved by Him. Oh, that God would help you to follow me in each thing as I say it, that what is said may be done as it is said, God the Holy Spirit working by the Word! In speaking about this singular question, I am going to show you, first, what it did and, secondly, what it teaches. I. First, let us think of WHAT THIS SINGULAR QUESTION DID—"What do you want Me to do for you?" Well, first, it brought out the two personalities. Listen to the question: "What do you want Me to do for you?" All the people round can see these two people—there is the ever-blessed Christ—and there is the blind beggar. These make the center of the group and the Lord Jesus Christ, by His question, brings these two into prominence—"What do you want Me to do for you?" I wish that I could fetch out of this great throng the sinner and the Savior.

[Another Sermon by Mr. Spurgeon upon the same text is #266, Volume 5—THE BLIND BEGGAR.] The blind man described in this narrative is a picture of what I earnestly desire that every hearer and reader of my sermons may become. In his first condition, Bartimaeus was a type of what the sinner is by nature—blind, hopelessly blind, unless the healing Savior shall interfere and pour in upon him the light of day. It is not, however, to this point that we shall now turn our thoughts, but to his conduct while seeking sight. This man, by God's great mercy, so acted that he may be held up as an example to all who feel their spiritual blindness, and earnestly desire to see the Light of Grace! Several of the blind men of Scripture are very interesting individuals. There was one of the them, you remember— the man born blind—who baffled the Pharisees by answering them with cool courage mixed with shrewdness and mother wit. Well might his parents say that he was of age, for he had all his wits about him. Blind as he had been, he could see a great deal—and when his eyes were opened, he proved beyond all dispute that his questioners deserved the name of "blind Pharisees" which the Lord Jesus gave them! Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, is a notable character. There is a sharp-cut individuality and crispness of style about him which makes him a remarkable person. He is one who thinks and acts for himself, is not soon daunted nor easily swayed, makes sure of what he knows and when he is questioned gives a clear reply. I suppose that as he sat in the midnight darkness which was his perpetual lot, he thought much. And having heard that from the seed of David there had arisen a great Prophet who worked miracles and preached glad tidings to the poor, he studied the matter over and concluded that His claims were true.

THE story of this miracle is wonderfully attractive. It has always been a favorite theme with preachers. From the days of the Apostles and the fathers of the Church they have delighted to dwell upon any single item of it as it is described by the three Evangelists who record it. We have frequently spoken of the incident as a whole—let us, therefore, now confine our attention to the question which Jesus asked of the blind man, "What do you want Me to do for you?" He asks the same question at this good hour—He asks it of blind men and, I think, He asks it of partly blind men, too. There are some of us whose eyes are opened, but whose vision is obscure—we cannot see afar off. Our blessed Lord and Master says to us, as well as to the blind ones, "What do you want Me to do for you?" Let us consider this question attentively, first on our Savior'spart—the disposition it shows. And then on our own part—the appeal to which we should respond. I. THE QUESTION, AS PUT BY OUR SAVIOR, is expressive of much tenderness. There is a beautiful delicacy in its manner. The absence of any distinct allusion to the privation the poor man suffered from, is kind. I have noticed, in many cases, that to afflicted persons, any allusion to their infirmities is very distasteful. You could hardly do anything that would be more ungracious to a blind person than to be perpetually reminding him of his blindness, or to a person who was lame than constantly referring to his misfortune. Such people are hopeful that, bearing the evil patiently, themselves, it will not be detected by others and they are anxious to avoid the pity which is grievous when it becomes obtrusive. Now our Savior did not say to this man, "Alas, poor Creature, what a sad state you are in!" There was not a word concerning the man's blindness to wound his sensibility.

No doubt our Lord's disciples imagined that He was going up to Jerusalem to take unto Himself the Kingdom. They hoped that they would be partakers of that earthly grandeur which they had fondly pictured would glitter around the Person of the Son of David. When, therefore, the blind man ventured to cry out clamorously to Him, whom they esteemed to be a great King, they thought it a daring intrusion. Who was the son of Timaeus that he should say, "You Son of David, have mercy on me"? They were all anxious to hush the voice of misery in the Presence of so much Majesty. But our Lord Jesus Christ did not spurn the blind man's prayer as intrusive or impertinent. He was not angry with him. He did not even pass on without taking any notice. What He did was to stand still and command the man to be brought to Him. May we not draw some comfort from the thought that our prayers never are intrusions? Whenever we go before God in deep distress, He is always ready to listen to our cry. Whatever grand purpose or momentous project engage His mind, He will surely be attentive to the longings of His needy suppliants. Though our Lord Jesus Christ is at this moment King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and inconceivably glorious, though hosts of angels count it their highest delight to do His bidding, yet He bears in Heaven the same heart towards sinners which He had on earth! Amidst the thunders of the everlasting hallelujahs, He can detect the sighs of the prisoners, the complaints of the sufferers and the groans of the contrite. He will stop to give heed to the requests of blind beggars and, in His pity, He will relieve their distress.

THE story of this miracle is wonderfully attractive. It has always been a favorite theme with preachers. From the days of the Apostles and the fathers of the Church they have delighted to dwell upon any single item of it as it is described by the three Evangelists who record it. We have frequently spoken of the incident as a whole—let us, therefore, now confine our attention to the question which Jesus asked of the blind man, "What do you want Me to do for you?"

Lord, that I might, etc. - The Codex Bezae, and some copies of the Itala, have, Κυριε ῥαββει, O Lord, my teacher.