Was something wrong with the spit?

I love the story but I don't understand it.

I'm referring to the story in Mark's account of Jesus' life, chapter 8, verses 22-26. Some folks bring a blind man to Jesus, begging him to touch their friend. Jesus takes the blind man's hand in his, and together they walk outside the village. Did they talk as they walked? I suspect so. What about? Probably not about the hot sun or other small talk. I imagine Jesus wanting to know the man's name and at least something of his story. And what was it like for the man to be holding Jesus' hand? We can only imagine. The two of them stop and suddenly Jesus spits on the man's eyes. Yikes! Did it feel like a gross indignity or healing salve? Perhaps Jesus told the man exactly what he was going to do to prevent any insult. Jesus asks if the man see's anything. The man looks back toward Bethsaida. "I see people and they look like trees walking." Some of you might remember that nearly 40 years ago Johnny Cash made these words sing!

The man has vision now. You can hear the excitement in his words still! But his vision was blurred. People looked like Olive trees on the move. This kind of vision is hardly ideal and could become the source of embarrassment or even danger. What was wrong? Why does the spit not work as it does in the healing of a deaf mute in the previous chapter? (Mark 7: 31-37) And why the spit in the first place? Why not just use healing words as with the centurion's paralyzed servant in Matthew 8:5? Aren't words more sanitary? Well, we can't know the answers to these questions, though I suspect that the Lord delights in our asking them. What we do know is that Jesus put his hands on the mans eyes a second time, "...his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly."

What does this have to do with Isabel? We have been asking Jesus to touch her. He is hearing our prayers and acting-but the healing is gradual. Today Isabel's open eyes were following my voice. Not so last week! The master has a long history of working this way. For Isabel's good he seems to be orchestrating a remarkable array of his gifts, from the natural healing capacities in Isabel's body to the strikingly good nursing care to the newly installed shunt. These things and more we pray, are going to lead to a level of healing unthinkable on the morning of July 3.

Yes we long for more dramatic progress for Isabel's and her families sake. But don't you love the fact that Mark includes this story in his gospel despite the questions that it raises? He certainly had enough other healing accounts to recount without running this risk of making Jesus look inept or less than omnipotent. But it happened this way so he tells it like it was. There is a lesson to be learned. Our Lord Christ is the healer. He's not trying to impress or bedazzle us. He can use hands, words, spit, neurosurgeons, ventilators, and second efforts. Methods for Jesus are apparently secondary and adaptable. What is central is that we ask him to work and that we trust his love, wisdom, and power.

Let me invite you all to a time to do just this and together! This coming Sunday night, July 31 from 7-8 PM we will gather in the chapel at St. Clare Hospital to pray for Isabel, give due praise to our Savior, and trust him despite his puzzling ways-which can become part of what we love about him.
Kurt Lutjens