New Insight

Last November I attended a women’s retreat at Camp Kintail where I spent some time tromping around in the mud and playing on the beach. This past weekend I had a personal retreat at Crieff Hills where I visited with chickens, said hello to sheep, hiked trails and walked the outdoor labyrinth. One retreat marked the end of a ministry, the other preparing for reopening for worship somewhere new.

Both retreats involved mud and muck. Walking the labyrinth last Friday involved some green mossy patches but also much mud and slippery snow. As I walked, I reflected on how much of the last two years has been trudging through mud and stomping on snow, trying not to get stuck or slide and lose balance. As I retraced my steps after sitting on a large rock to pray in the centre, I saw my boot prints in both the mud and snow, a record of where I’d been.

I don’t do retreats often enough, but when I do I am confronted with looking at where I’ve been, where I am and where I’m going. I pray that I’ve allowed God to use me well, that the footprints left behind in my ministry and relationships have been for the good of others and God’s kingdom. And as I consider those footprints I gain insight. God always shows me something when I’m willing to look and open myself to the divine.

For this Sunday’s worship I’m focusing on the story of blind Bartimaeus. He’s a poor beggar sitting by the side of the road, mentioned in both Mark and Luke. He finds out Jesus is going by on His way to Jerusalem and calls out for Him to have mercy on him. The disciples tell him to hush up, but he won’t. He’s persistent and Jesus hears him over the crowd and has Bartimaeus brought to him. Jesus asks what Bartimaeus wants Him to do and Bartimaeus asks to see again. Jesus obliges, saying his faith has made him well.

This story, like my retreat on the weekend, asks me to confront whether I’m paying attention to Jesus’ presence. Am I willing to admit to my own blindness and faults and ready to call out to the Healer for help? Or am I more like the disciples, blind to my privilege and arrogance, and not wanting to truly see someone in need in front of me who is inconveniently making a scene (or perhaps very quietly suffering)?

There are people and things and even personal issues I don’t want to see, situations that offend or upset me, and I have the luxury of turning away or changing the channel on the remote. But Jesus’ example tells me that I need to stop, find out the story behind what is happening, and be ready to respond in some way, even if it’s just to listen and wish someone a good day or offer prayer.

I did some journaling on the weekend because I didn’t want to forget the insights I gleaned from that time set apart, time intentionally focused on seeking God’s direction. I admitted to some of the burden I was carrying and felt bold to ask for what I thought I needed. God knows that better than me, but I still asked and God still showed up. I was Bartimaeus, but I was also a disciple praying for others and striving to know how best to serve those I’m going to be ministering to next.

Whatever our blindness or need, may we be sensitive to it and to Jesus’ presence and may we be bold enough to ask for renewed vision and help. And may we not turn away from those who somehow see Jesus in us and know that we should be ready to show love and compassion.