For the forty days during my fast, the only word I heard from God was "no". When I pondered my treatment course, He said no. When I thought about being involved in additional events, He said no. When I questioned if I should extend myself in a new way, He said no. When I asked it I should take my hurt and questions to other people, He said no. Over and over, as opportunities arose, His answer to me, was no. As a person who is perpetually tempted to make my self worth equivalent to my productivity, this is not at all shocking. My way wasn't working. Doing more was not making me satisfied. My "yes" that lived at the tip of my tongue was silenced and in turn, He gave me exactly what I needed - He gave me less. He gave me quiet. He gave me space. And time. And peace. And rest.
In Mark 10 a blind man shouts at Jesus over and over again, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." When brought to Jesus, Jesus asks the blind man what he wants. The blind man says, "Rabboni, I want to receive my sight." Jesus asks the obvious question and receives the obvious answer. The blind man wanted to see. Just like many miracles before this, the bleeding woman wanted to be healed, the lame wanted to walk and the sick wanted to be well. Why does Jesus, Lord of all, ask us what we want?
I think it's a beautiful statement of faith when we are able to confess our need, to the One who can provide. While Jesus already knows, by us stating the obvious, we have to humble ourselves and admit out loud, I can't get what I need on my own. All my effort has still left me lacking. Only you can provide. The physical healing are indicative of the condition of our soul, which is why the Lord graciously forgives sins for many of the people He also physically heals. He knows the obvious need, but He also can heal the very deepest longing of our hearts; the places of desperation that we haven't been willing to address in ourselves. Asking Jesus for help puts us in the right relationship with Him. We acknowledge who we are and we acknowledge who He is. He is not a doctor, but he is the Ultimate Healer. He is not a therapist, but He is the Wonderful Counselor. He is not a teacher, but the very Word of Life. Asking Jesus for help demonstrates a faith that says, I'm broken on my own and ONLY YOU can fix me.
Audrey Assad sings in her song, The Way You Move,
I know that the hardest part of love is not the thing I have to give
It's what I give up, I'm giving up ground
And I'm trading in my solitude for safety now
All my pride, it doesn't stand a chance against the way you move
You're tearing up roots and breaking down walls
And I don't stand a chance at all, against the way You move.
We have to give up our thoughts of self-sufficiency and independence. We have to give up the walls we build around ourselves and our ego-centric thoughts. It isn't about how what I think I can get from Jesus, it is coming open handed for what only He can give. Sure, there are maladies that I'm looking to be addressed, but He isn't going to stop there. He won't stop until He gives me His best, regardless of what I have to give up to receive it.
My fast temporarily gave up food - but the real intent was to begin in me the daily practice of giving up. Giving up my way, my plans, my will, in exchange for the His best for me.
