Healing
It was the perfect time of day. I could feel the sun as it was just starting to peep over the hills behind me - casting little beams of warmth here and there among the shrubs and rocks.
A mouse's tail brushed lightly against my foot as he skipped and jumped on his way home for the day. Overhead, an eagle soared - exulting in the brisk coolness of the morning.
Underneath the rock that I was leaning on came a quiet rustle. I sat back and pulled my feet up onto the rock just as a rather large rattlesnake poked his head out and flickered his tongue. I sat quietly as he worked his way out and then headed for the pond on the other side of the bushes.
I loved being out here first thing in the morning. I'd been coming to this same spot for over a year now. My wife would have loved this place - it felt much the same as the secluded little valley that we had kept all to ourselves on the other side of the river.
Sighing, I stretched and rubbed my eyes. No sense in thinking about Kedar now - it was time to face the day. There were long hours and taunts to endure before I would be able to eat a meal.
I headed off down the rocky trail towards Jericho. As I got into town, I ran into Thomas, the local carpenter. He was a giant of a man and yet as gentle as a dove to those weaker than himself. He was leaning against the wall of his shop, eating a bit of bread. Handing me a piece, he said, "Have you heard the latest?"
"Not since Jairus told me about the Romans building the new road - is that what you're talking about, Thomas?", I replied.
"That's old news, old man," he said and laughed. "Have you heard about that man Jesus? They say he's heading to Jerusalem and will be coming through here today. They say some wild things about this guy - I have to admit I'm looking forward to seeing him for myself."
I leaned forward a little and lowered my voice, "Do you remember a fella named James that was here about a year ago? I heard that he was one of the ones in the villages around Nazareth. You know, the ones that everyone said Jesus healed!" My voice had risen a little and it was an effort for me to contain my excitement, but I had to - I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I had learned that painful lesson a few days earlier in this same town and didn't want a repeat.
Thomas laid a big hand gently on my shoulder and said, "You really don't think that he can do that, do you? You know that kind - thieves, they are - first they steal your hopes and then your money." He shook my shoulder to make sure he had my attention, "You're my friend, Bartimaeus, and I don't want you to get hurt."
I clasped his big hand between mine and said, "I know you are, Thomas. You've always looked out for me and I appreciate it. But I think you also know how desperate a man I am. Now, do this old man a favor and point me to the road leading to Jerusalem. I think I may just beg on that road today."
Later that day, in the heat of the sun, I was sitting in the best spot I could find but there was still no shade to protect me. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I made sure my basket was still in front of me and I sat quietly and listened. I had learned it was safer to not speak. Every so often people would pass by - some alone, others in groups - and they always had something to say about me. Comments about my clothes, my lack of shoes, how dirty I was, how much they hated beggars on the roads. Earlier that morning, a woman had come up to me, but only stood for a moment before saying nastily, "I wish the Romans would clear the trash off the sides of the roads."
It had been a while since anyone had passed by and I was contemplating going back into the city when I heard the scuff of many feet coming this way. There was also an excited murmuring and as they got closer I could hear them saying his name. My heart began pounding in my chest - it was him, it was really him! Did I dare to speak? Did I dare to say his name? What if the crowd around him stopped me or stoned me? But then the thought that I might not ever have this chance again stunned me, so I took a deep breath and shouted out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"
The crowd went silent at first, stunned into speechlessness that a beggar would dare to even speak to them. Then two or three of the younger men cried out angrily, "Be quiet!"
But the exhilaration of the moment took me and I shouted even louder, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"
Jesus, who was at the head of the line, stopped. Turning, he looked back at the crowd and then at me - a dirty, smelly, blind beggar. I held my breath. What was he going to do to me?
"Tell him to come here." Jesus said softly, but it was so quiet it was if he had shouted the words.
The effect on the crowd was instantaneous. They called out to me, "Cheer up! Come on, he's calling you!"
I threw aside the coat that had been covering my lap and jumped up. The crowd helped guide me to the front - to Jesus.
"What do you want me to do for you?" he asked simply.
"Teacher," I replied breathlessly, "I want to see!"
Jesus looked at me and I could feel it - I could feel His power coursing throughout my body. I began to tremble at the thought of who I was standing before.
"Go your way," He said finally, "Your faith has healed you." and at that moment it was as though a curtain had lifted. I saw the face of the man God - dark hair like mine, eyes that blazed with tenderness and power, skin lightly coated with road dust and sweat, and I was filled with love and awe that He cared for me, a lowly beggar.
He reached out and touched my face, and smiled. I would come to love that smile, because it always meant that He had done something for one of us - something that no one else could do - and He took such pleasure in caring for us all.
He turned and continued His journey to Jerusalem, and we all followed along, as content in His presence as a flock of sheep with their shepherd.
by Mary Nellum - 4/4/05
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