Hope for the New Year

 

As I was thinking about the new year and the old year, new challenges and old problems, new opportunities and old struggles, I read Mark 8:22–24.

When they arrived at Bethsaida, some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. So He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village. Then He spit on the man’s eyes and placed His hands on him. “Can you see anything?” He asked. The man looked up and said, “I can see people, but they look like trees walking around.”

Here’s a man who has been blind for many years. He’s given up hope of ever seeing again. He’s learned to accept his loss of independence and his continual darkness. But one day a man named Jesus comes through town. He’s heard about Jesus – how He can heal the sick, turn water into wine, even raise the dead. But that’s the kind of thing that happens to other people – not to him – he doesn’t allow himself to hope. He’s resigned himself to a lifetime of blindness.

But he has some friends. True friends. Not the kind of friends who want to control him or get something from him, but the kind who want to help him at the expense of their own convenience. Even though he doesn’t dare to hope for himself, he has friends who hope on his behalf. And they bring him to Jesus.

Jesus takes the blind man and leads him out of the village. The man can’t even follow Jesus on his own. “Follow Jesus? I can’t even see Him much less follow Him!” But Jesus takes him by the hand and leads him. His friends aren’t with him anymore – it’s just Jesus and the blind man and a few gawkers. He leaves his friends and his village behind, and he reluctantly follows Jesus. He was comfortable in the village – he knows his way around – but he lets Jesus take him out of the village into the unfamiliar, uncomfortable, unknown countryside.

Then Jesus spits on his eyes. Not a promising turn of events. “Great – I follow this guy out into the boondocks, I don’t know where I am or how to get home, my friends have left me, and now my eyes are covered with this gross spit. Can this get any worse?”

But despite his lack of confidence, he goes along with Jesus’ plan – what else can he do? – and in response to Jesus’ request he opens his eyes. I like the way the man responds: “I can see people, but …” You’ve helped me a little bit, Jesus, but it’s not quite what I was hoping for. You’ve done a lot for me, but I sure wish I could have more. You’ve given me a lot, but why can’t I have as much as other people? The man looks through the spit and sees a blurry scene of people walking around. Not quite the healing he wanted – he still can’t really see – but maybe there’s hope. Not as dramatic as the stories that he’s heard about other healings, but maybe it’s a start. Maybe …

You know what happens next. But I’m going to stop the story here because this is where I am in my life, and I think that some of you are like me. Faith has not yet become sight. Life is hard, dreams have died, a sense of loss is ever-present, and hope is fading. Every day it gets easier to accept the blindness. This kind of discouragement can strike at any age, young or old. Some people seem to have it all together – their lives appear to be in order – everything is going well. But they’re actually blind – they’re faking it – they’ve lived in darkness for so long that they know how to survive without others realizing that their light is gone.

Maybe Jesus hasn’t come to your village yet. Continue to wait. We walk by faith and not by sight.

Maybe Jesus has come and you’re trying to follow Him but you can’t even see clearly enough to do that much. Let Him take you by the hand and lead you. We walk by faith and not by sight.

Maybe Jesus has come and you’ve started following him and you’ve left your friends and family behind, but you haven’t yet been able to muster up any hope for true healing. Continue to follow Him despite the darkness. We walk by faith and not by sight.

Maybe Jesus has taken you out of the village into unfamiliar territory and you feel more lost and alone than ever, and there’s still no indication that Jesus will heal you. Continue to trust Him even when He seems to be leading you in the wrong direction. We walk by faith and not by sight.

Maybe Jesus has spit in your eyes and not only are you in an unfamiliar place, but you’re uncomfortable. The ways of Jesus seem strange and unreasonable. Healing seems to be as far away as ever and life is actually getting worse. Continue to follow Him even when His ways don’t make sense. We walk by faith and not by sight.

Maybe you’ve just now begun seeing through the spittle. Maybe a flicker of hope is trickling through the muck and darkness. It might be nothing, but maybe it’s a promise of better things to come. Faith is becoming sight.

Wherever you are, whatever has happened this past year, and whatever hopes and fears you have for the new year, remember that we walk by faith and not by sight. We don’t follow Jesus because He promises us perfection in this life. We don’t follow Him because He makes us comfortable. We follow the One who “for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2), and so we do the same. We don’t allow difficult circumstances to undermine our faith. We don’t allow the long hours of the night to take away our hope for the dawn. “We focus our eyes on Jesus, the source and the culmination of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2). We walk by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).