When they bring you to trial and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.
This section of Mark is full of end times predictions. Dark skies, wars and rumors of wars, brother betraying brother to death. I have an image of some apocalyptical movie scene, with death and destruction all around. I’m in the midst of all of that carnage. It would certainly be terrifying and I’d want to do something to protect myself and anyone else. I’d want a plan. I’d want to know what to do or say, to plan something great to get out of this mess.
But Jesus, in the midst of painting this desolate picture tells us to not be afraid. Don’t worry about what to say, even though we’re about to be handed over to the very forces that created the carnage. It is not me who speaks, but the Holy Spirit.
Wow. That would take some faith, if I were in the story Jesus is telling. Luckily, my woes rarely are as bad as what Jesus is foretelling. I haven’t been handed over, the skies haven’t darkened, the earthquake hasn’t split the earth, children haven’t raised up to put their parents to death. It really is a grim picture of these horrible times.
Perhaps I need to exercise that faith, practice having that faith so that if these super-terrible things happen, I’ve flexed those faith muscles. Maybe now with fewer problems, I should practice Jesus’ suggestion of not worrying about what to say or do, that the Holy Spirit will speak through me.
If I believed that, if I could practice having faith in that, what would change in me? Perhaps I wouldn’t fret. I wouldn’t spend as much time thinking about what I should be doing or saying. Perhaps I would spend more time in contemplative silence, listening to the Spirit within me. Perhaps I could build in more space, before I respond in any situation, space to allow the Holy Spirit to speak through me.
This morning, I’m thinking about how I might practice this faith, faith that I don’t need to worry about what to say because the Holy Spirit will speak through me. If Jesus asks the disciples to have that faith during the crash-and-burn scene he paints, I suspect I should have faith to do that in my world too.
Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.”
Whew. It’s been a nearly two weeks of not reading, not praying, not writing. Just napping and coughing. While I’m not back to normal, I’m heading in that direction. And I’m feeling well enough that I felt like reading, praying and writing. A great sign.
The Gospels pack so much in, it’s hard to know where to drop in. I haven’t fully appreciated the sequence of all of the individual stories; when there’s a section we hear or study on Sunday, they’re individual snippets, fully packed with enough to get us through. But these stories are all strung together, one after another. It’s only through this sequential reading that I’m beginning to get a sense of that larger arc, of stories being strung together for a bigger purpose. I might start at the Gospels again when I finally reach Revelation.
Early in this section of Mark, we learn of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. He’s calling out to Jesus to heal him and the people surrounding Jesus try to stifle Bartimaeus, to keep him from Jesus. There’s so much here already. Bartimaeus is sitting at the side of the road, unable to meet his own needs without begging, entirely dependent upon those around him. He offers up a version of what has been referred to as the Jesus Prayer – Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me – a powerful, succinct, fully sufficient prayer. This from the blind beggar.
And the people around Jesus, who’ve been following him because presumably, they want to be more like him, or learn from him, what do they do? They shun this man, telling him to be quiet. You know, just like Jesus would do.
Of course Jesus calls over Bartimaeus. Of course he’s healed. What’s really great about the way it happens is that Jesus asks the very people who’ve shunned the man to go get him. He engages the very folks who wanted to follow but instead failed. Not only does he teach the followers with his words, he gives them a chance to act out his love and forgiveness and repentance, by getting them involved.
This morning, I’m thinking about how hard it is to learn from Jesus, and actually do what he says. It’s easier to just learn in words, and think nice thoughts about loving others, forgiveness, and mercy. It’s so much harder to actually love others, forgive others, and show the mercy I know Jesus asks of me. To be clear, there are people and circumstances where this kind of Jesus-following is easier. There are situations where I absolutely rise to the occasion, and can lead others into the loving action. But there are probably more circumstances where I hear Jesus’ words, and then like the people around Bartimaeus, I don’t actually love, or welcome or forgive.
This morning, I’m thinking about how great it is that Jesus gives me ample opportunities to get it right. After I’ve told the blind beggars to keep it down, I’m invited to go get them and bring them over. Hopefully, I occasionally see the irony in this and throw up a special prayer of thanks.
