On Thursday night of our mission trip to the Dream Center, we attended a worship service at
Angelus Temple. We had spent two days cleaning and preparing Angelus Temple for this service. This building holds a special place in my heart because my husband's family had been there many years ago when
Kathryn Kuhlman led healing services there. I've heard many stories about the miraculous healings they witnessed there.
What is the heading in your Bible for this section? “Blind
Bartemaeus,” right? Not, “Faithful Bartemaeus,” or “Full of Grace Bartemaeus,” not even "Persistent Bartemaeus" but
“Blind Bartemaeus. Blind Bartemaeus even wore a “beggar’s cloak” which
identified him and gave him the right to sit at the gate and beg. According to
Dan Vera, you know you’re in trouble when your affliction becomes your
identity. Bart’s affliction definitely became his identity. Does anyone have an
affliction that has wiggled into your life, wrapped its tentacles around you,
and attempted to consume you and become your identity?
I can think of a few in my life, but I’ve chosen just one as
an example today. It’s how I felt shortly after my daughter's death. I felt like I
had GRIEVING stenciled across my forehead. Everywhere I
went, I felt like people were staring at me because of that label. I couldn’t
escape it.
I remember meeting other moms who had lost children, and thinking,
“Wow, they’ve had a hard life.” But I didn’t want people thinking about me like
that. I started a Grief Share Group, but I quit teaching it because I felt like
I was becoming known as the “Grief Lady.” I’m thankful that someone has picked
up that slack! But, as Pastor Dan Vera said, “It may or may not be your fault
that you’re where you are right now, but it is your fault if you stay there.” Back then I
knew God was drawing me out of my grief. It has changed me and shaped me so I
keep talking and writing about it, but it does not consume me anymore.
When it comes to our afflictions, Pastor Dan said we’ve got to “Learn
to live with it but don’t settle for it.” That is something I’ve
been trying to put into words for years, but I just couldn’t quite get a handle
on it. When he said that, it was like a light bulb went off over my
head—“That’s it! That’s what I’ve been trying to do! Learn to live with it, but
don’t settle for it!”
That means so much to me as I pray about issues in my life
and in the lives of my loved ones… as I strive to be still and know that He is
God… as I wait for God’s answer to my prayers. I’m kind of an all-or-nothing
person. I’m either all in or I’m all out. I’m either consumed by something or
I’m in complete denial of it. But I’m growing, and I’m learning to live with
some issues, but I refuse to settle for them! I will NOT be consumed by them,
but I will not deny that they exist either.
Here are some ways Pastor Dan says we can learn to live with
our afflictions without settling for them:
1)
Use what you have. Yes, Blind Bartemaeus
was, well, blind. But he could certainly hear. Instead of complaining about not
being able to see, Bartemaeus HEARD. He used what he had—his ears.
2)
Seize the opportunity. Bartemaeus also
used his mouth, and he seized this opportunity. He cried out. But Bart didn’t
voice his complaints. He wasn’t having a pity party. He had learned to live
with his blindness. Jesus is not moved by your complaining, He’s moved by your
faith! You’ve got to see what no one else can see—even if you’re blind!
3)
Press through opposition. Says Pastor
Dan, “It took a blind man to see what the rest of this huge crowd could not.
The blind man was the only one who knew who Jesus was. ‘Jesus, Son of David’
was a Messianic term. He was saying ‘Jesus, you are the only hope we have.’ The
Pharisees were fine with Jesus being a good teacher and even a healer, but they
had a major problem with him being called Messiah. So they wanted to shut Bart
up!
4)
Don’t get rid of your enemies. What?! Your
haters will push you to your dream. When they tried shut him down, Bart cried
even louder. That seemed like an odd point to me. I had never heard anyone say
anything like that before. I’ve heard, “love your enemies,” and I’ve definitely
tried to avoid my enemies, but never this. When we got back to the Dream Center
after hearing this sermon, I got back to my perch on my cozy
bunk-bed-without-a-ladder and read this paragraph from an unrelated book I had brought
with me:
“The gospel is so arranged and
the gift of God so great that you may take the very enemies that fight you and
the forces that are arrayed against you and make them steps up to the very
gates of heaven and into the presence of God… God wants of every one of His
children, to be…
MORE THAN A
CONQUEROR.” (--Beth Moore) More Then Conquerors was the title of the sermon series our church was doing at the time. God was coming at me from all angles!
5)
Stop the procession. As Bart continues to
cry out over his haters, the one man not in the procession stops. Jesus stops.
He realizes that “Someone knows who I am.” When we know who God is and see our
issues and circumstances through that filter of faith, God stops. I want to be
that someone. I want to be one who knows who God is. I want to be one that
stops God in His tracks.
6)
Leave your place. Jesus said, “Bring him
to me.” So, does Jesus know that Bart is blind? Wouldn’t it be easier for Jesus
to walk over to him through the heavy throng than for the disciples to lead a
blind man weaving in and out through all these dirty, smelly, sweaty people?
Yes, but Jesus wanted Bart to leave his place. Jesus said, if you want what I
have you’ve got to leave your place.
Joyce Meyer says, if you want the beauty
God offers, you’ve got to give Him your ashes. You can’t keep your ashes and still
get the beauty God offers.
You
have to leave the place you’re in to get to Jesus. Bart didn’t just get up and blindly
feel his way through the crowd. He
threw his cloak, his beggar’s
jacket, his label aside and
jumped to his feet and came to
Jesus. He didn’t let his handicap, his affliction, his worldly identity keep
him from Jesus.
7)
You may have every right to be a beggar. I may
have every right to be a griever, a broken-hearted mom. At least two of my friends may have the right to be grieving widows, but God says, NO! You can’t
receive from God until you let go of your beggars jacket. You can’t receive His beauty until you
let go of your ashes.
So, what’s your affliction? What’s your label? What’s your
worldly identity? “Cheer up, on your feet! He’s calling you!”
