OPINION —
Growing up, Thanksgiving usually came with two tables. There was the adult table and the kids’ table. And when you’re a kid, there’s something mysterious about that adult table. That’s where the important people sit. That’s where the good food seems to be. That’s where the conversations you aren’t supposed to hear are happening. So, you spend years waiting for the day when someone finally decides you’re old enough to move up. Then something funny happens. Eventually you make it to the adult table and realize the kids’ table was a lot more fun.
Maybe we never completely outgrow that desire to sit at the important table. We want to know where we rank. We want to feel valued, recognized and included. We want to know that we belong. That’s part of what makes Mark 10 so fascinating.
James and John approached Jesus with a request: “Grant us that we may sit, one on Your right hand and the other on Your left, in Your glory.” They had walked with Jesus, listened to His teaching and witnessed His miracles, but they were still thinking about where they would sit. They wanted the important seats at the table. Jesus explained that His kingdom measures greatness differently. “Whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant.” In the kingdom of God, greatness isn’t about climbing higher than everyone else. It’s about becoming more like Jesus.
Then Mark immediately introduces us to someone who couldn’t have appeared more different from James and John. As Jesus was leaving Jericho, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus sat beside the road. His life wasn’t defined by position or prestige. In fact, Mark introduces him by his condition: “blind Bartimaeus.” He was a man dependent upon the generosity of people passing by just to survive.
Then he heard that Jesus was coming. Bartimaeus couldn’t see Jesus, but apparently he’d heard enough about Him to believe. So he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd told him to be quiet.
I think a lot of people understand what that feels like. Maybe nobody has literally told you to stop calling for Jesus, but perhaps you’ve been made to feel like you weren’t good enough. Maybe your past has followed you into your present. Maybe you’ve been defined by an addiction, a divorce, a failure, a mistake or a season of doubt. Sadly, perhaps even people within the church have made you wonder whether there’s really a place for someone like you. Bartimaeus teaches us something important: Don’t let the people around Jesus keep you from Jesus. When the crowd told him to be quiet, he cried out even louder. And then something beautiful happened. Jesus stopped.
Think about that for a moment. Jesus was on His way to Jerusalem. The cross was drawing closer and a crowd surrounded Him. Yet one desperate voice from the side of the road caused the Son of God to stop. The crowd overlooked Bartimaeus. Jesus heard him. Jesus called for him, and Bartimaeus did something I love. Mark tells us that “throwing aside his garment, he rose and came to Jesus.” Whatever else that garment represented to Bartimaeus, in that moment he was willing to leave it behind to get to Christ. There’s a sermon in that little detail. Sometimes following Jesus requires us to cast off the things we’ve allowed to define us. Shame. Guilt. Sin. Anger. Failure. The opinions of others. Even an identity we’ve carried so long that we’ve forgotten who we are without it.
Then Jesus asked Bartimaeus an incredible question: “What do you want Me to do for you?” Just a few verses earlier, Jesus had essentially asked James and John the same thing: “What do you want Me to do for you?”
Their answer was status. Bartimaeus answered, “Rabboni, that I may receive my sight.” He didn’t ask for a throne. He didn’t ask for recognition. He didn’t ask for a better seat at the table. He just wanted to be made whole. Jesus restored his sight, and Mark tells us Bartimaeus immediately “followed Jesus on the road.” The man who began the story sitting beside the road ended it walking the road with Christ. Maybe that’s the invitation for us too.
We spend so much of life trying to prove that we deserve a seat at the important table. Jesus offers something far greater. He calls us to Himself. So cast off whatever has defined you. Ignore the voices telling you that you don’t belong. Get up and answer His call. Because ultimately, it doesn’t matter where your seat is. What matters is that you’re at the table with Jesus.
Anchored in truth | Jesus who calls us
