The Blind Will See
I’ve decided my wife and I watch football very differently. Last Sunday we were both watching the NFL AFC playoff. It was an exciting game complete with everything even a sporadic sports fan like me would enjoy. There were moments of suspense, reversals, close-calls, athleticism, and displays of amazing skill. It was a visual feast!
However, while I watched blocking, passing, running, and kicking, I kept having to answer questions like, “What did that sign say?” “What do you think of that team’s helmets?” “Why does that player have a long ‘tail’ hanging out the back of his pants?” “Who does that coach remind you of?”
As is often the case, I hadn’t noticed anything my wife had. It happens all the time. She’ll ask me what I thought of the color of a particular house. I hadn’t noticed the house, let alone its color. She’ll ask me if I liked someone’s hair style. I didn’t see it. She’ll ask what I thought of a friend’s glasses. I didn’t even know they wore glasses.
It’s not that I can’t see. When I last got new glasses, the optometrist told me my vision was better than 20/20. No. That can’t explain my blindness. I just don’t really look at the same things as my wife.
Our sensory apparatus is amazing. In terms of vision, our optic nerves transmit about ten million bits of information to the brain per second. Unfortunately, our brains are not capable of processing all that information. Realistically, the conscious brain is limited to about 50 bits per second. That’s a big difference. Some of the data is “compressed” like a mega zip file. But the brain also tends to just ignore enormous amounts of information, filling in when necessary.
We feel like we are seeing everything because we’re wired to feel that way. But the fact is we miss a great deal. Our brains are just very good at paying attention to a few things and ignoring the rest.
As babies grow, they learn to navigate this barrage of sensory data. It’s very hard at first. They don’t really know what is important and what is not. They have no understanding of the world around them or even of their own bodies. So the first few years of life are spent in the task of making sense of the sensory world.
Other people–parents, grandparents, siblings–also play a role in this development. As language develops, questions are answered and events are explained. Right and wrong are inferred. Meaning is grasped. The world becomes more and more comprehensible.
As humans grow older, their world seems understandable to them. They no longer have to watch to see which way an apple falls. They know it will always go down. Certain aspects of their environment can be ignored because they are settled fact. They can pay attention to things that are unsettled or new information that is of interest to them.
Of course, just like my wife and me watching a football game, different people pay attention to different things. The crowd of fans and player uniforms are not the focus of my attention when I watch a game. I want to focus on what I find interesting–the competition of the athletes. However, that doesn’t match my wife’s focus. So we see different things and think about different things.
I was struck while reading Matthew 20 the other day how the gospel brings out this very point. Early in the chapter we find Jesus talking with his disciples about the Kingdom of Heaven. He shares with them a parable in which wages are not proportional to labor. He mentions that “the last shall be first.” He shares about the dangers He will face when He gets to Israel’s capital city. Their messiah and king will be condemned, mocked, flogged, and crucified. Yet ultimate triumphed will be achieved through resurrection!
Immediately following these clarifying discussions regarding the Kingdom of which Christ was king, we’re treated to a bizarre scene. The students couldn’t see what Jesus was trying to show them. (A problem every teacher confronts from time to time.)
First, the mother of two of Jesus’ closest disciples asks that her sons be given the most important posts in His kingdom. Jesus tries to help them see that they don’t understand what they are asking, but the family persists in its quest (and blindness). Immediately, the rest of the disciples (also blind) start arguing, jockeying for plum positions for themselves.
It’s pretty clear from Matthew’s account that what Jesus is seeing is not what the disciples are seeing.
So what does Jesus do? The next scene in Matthew 20 tells us. Two blind beggars at the side of the road are calling out. Like the disciples, they explicitly recognize that Jesus is the messiah, the inheritor of the throne of David, the coming King. And like the disciples, they have a vocal and persistent request: “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” (v. 31)
With His disciples beside Him, Jesus stops in front of the blind men. He has to be thinking about the clueless request for prominence by His closest friends. Can you hear the emphasis in his voice when He calls the beggars over? “What do you want me to do for you?” (v. 32)
The answer of the blind men served as an important lesson to the disciples. “Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.” The Savior gladly granted their request!
The disciples had perfectly functioning eyes, but they weren’t seeing the world correctly. Jesus took great pains to explain to them how to look at the Kingdom He had come to establish. But these men he spent so much time with were so entrenched in their own assumptions about the world, that they were blind to what He was showing them. They could not see yet they weren’t aware of their own need for sight.
The blind men knew they were blind. They knew they needed Jesus’ mercy to help them see. And once Jesus addressed their fundamental need, they were able to follow Him.
All too often, I fear I am more like the disciples. I’m confident in my own assumptions about the world, Christ, and His Kingdom. I pray, thinking I know best what I should pray. I pursue goals and take action, asking Jesus to bless my efforts based on my own understanding. Yet what I really need is a good dose of the blind beggar’s insight and humility.