Son of David, Have Mercy: Mark 10:46-52

Bartimaeus sat by the roadside outside Jericho, a blind beggar whose name Mark bothers to record—son of Timaeus, perhaps once somebody, now nobody. His cloak spread on the ground to catch coins. His ears his only connection to the world.

He heard the commotion before he understood it: a large crowd approaching, voices overlapping, the shuffle of many feet. He asked what was happening.

"Jesus of Nazareth is passing by."

Something ignited. Bartimaeus had heard stories—the blind given sight, the lame walking, demons fleeing. And he had heard one title whispered with hope: Son of David. The Messiah.

He began to shout: "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

People told him to shut up. A blind beggar had no right to interrupt a rabbi's procession. He was nobody. He was nothing.

He shouted louder: "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Jesus stopped.

"Call him," Jesus said.

The same people who had silenced him now changed their tune: "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you."

Bartimaeus threw off his cloak—the most valuable thing he owned, the only thing between him and the cold ground—and jumped to his feet. He came to Jesus, stumbling, guided by voices.

"What do you want me to do for you?"

The same question Jesus had asked James and John. They had asked for thrones. Bartimaeus asked for something simpler:

"Rabbi, I want to see."

"Go," said Jesus. "Your faith has healed you."

Immediately—that word again—he received his sight. The first thing Bartimaeus saw was the face of Jesus.

And he followed him along the road.

Not back to his begging spot. Not home to celebrate. He followed Jesus toward Jerusalem, toward the cross, his new sight fixed on the one who had given it.

The first thing he did with his eyes was follow.