In a recent devotion, I came across a Christmas story in an unexpected place: the middle of Luke’s gospel, fifteen chapters after the traditional Christmas story.
Luke 18:35-43 tells of a twice-burdened man: a roadside beggar who is also blind. Each day he’s forced to plead and scrape—in darkness—just to survive. No doubt he lives by patterns. Seventy-three steps between the best place to beg and his sleeping mat; the familiar sound of a shopkeeper who usually slips him a bit of fish; the feel in his hand of a cool cup of water a kind woman brings him. These habits are both necessary and discouraging. Perhaps even crushing, as each day is another partnership with sadness.
But one day there comes a moment when everything changes. An important person is heading through town, followed by a good-sized crowd from the sound of things. The blind beggar sits up a bit straighter. “What’s happening?”
Someone calls back to him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.”
Has time ever slowed down for you? Jesus. Of. Nazareth. The blind man’s mind and heart explode with hope. He’s heard about Jesus—how he travels around proclaiming good news to the poor, freedom for the prisoners, and recovery of sight for the blind—just as Isaiah prophesied. And now, somehow, the Healer has come to him.
“Jesus, Son of David,” he shouts, hoping to be heard through the crowd, “have mercy on me!”
Nobody pays any attention to him, so he shouts louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
A few in the crowd turn around, rebuking him for being a nuisance and telling him to be quiet. These are the men and women who are his neighbors, who he often depends on. Does he dare speak up in the face of their opposition? He grows afraid.
But this is his one chance. If he misses this chance, the rest of his life will be a long descent into mental despair. He will always wonder, “What if I’d been able to get Jesus’s attention?” This could be far darker than his physical blindness.
“Jesus!” This time it’s a scream. A scream of hope, mixed with fear, expressing the utter anguish he feels in the moment. He knows Jesus of Nazareth can save him. “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Suddenly everything becomes a bit quieter. He feels rough hands grip his arms and pull him to his feet. Muttered insults fill his ears, but the murmurs soon give way to a singular voice. “What do you want me to do for you?”
No hesitation. “I want to see!”
And at that moment, the blind beggar’s Advent becomes Christmas. He who had been walking in darkness now sees a great Light.
From sadness, to hope, to fear, to anguish . . . to Light.
As we approach the end of our own Advent season, I am haunted by this story. PathLight works with the poor, the oppressed, and the hidden in Belize. We work to help them see with new eyes their Creator’s world, to sense with new hearts the reshaping love of an always-faithful God. We strive to bring transformative Light where once there was oppressive darkness.
And yet I reflect on the blind beggar, and how he may not have persisted, in the face of the crowd’s obstruction, unless he was absolutely convinced Jesus could help him. Is it the same for those whom PathLight serves? When we speak to schools, neighborhoods, and villages, I have seen the very moment people realize, “Ah—there’s hope! PathLight could help me!” But I’ve also seen the fears and anxieties rear up. What if my family doesn’t want me to participate? Will I have to leave my friends? Are these people telling me the truth?
There are kids who haven’t yet made it through the crowd. Kids who haven’t yet come face to face with Jesus, and who haven’t yet heard that revolutionary question, “What do you want me to do for you?”
I know what I want Jesus to do for me. This Advent, as I await the coming Light, I find myself answering Jesus’s question with the blind beggar’s words.
I want to see.
I want to see more of us living the messianic prophecy of Isaiah, living the very words with which Jesus launched his ministry and which compelled the blind beggar to push through the crowd:
The Spirit of the Lord is on us,
because he has anointed us
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent us to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
And so, as the hope of Advent becomes the Light of Christmas, may we all pray, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on us. Have mercy on all of us as we walk through the darkness toward the dawning of your Son. Come, Lord Jesus. Let Light Shine.”
With that hope, that Light, all of us at PathLight wish you a very Merry Christmas!