By Jen Hunt
Inspired by meditating on Mark 8:22
He has spit and put mud
On my eyes
And now I am
On the spot
He asks, Do you see anything?
It seems like a simple yes or no question
I should just say yes
And leave it at that
For how can I admit
I see trees walking
In front of the ones who brought me
And begged for my healing?
Then again
How could he ask me here
In front of them
Now?
For if he’s God, surely he knows the answer
What kind of cruelty is this?
But all I see are trees walking
Truth be told
If I say I see trees where the people should be
It's plain as day
There's either something wrong
With me
Or with Jesus
Who would you believe?
Jesus has done miracles
That is without doubt
Many miracles
Or so I’ve heard
(Thankfully my ears, they work fine)
Usually all at once
Usually completely
No mud or spit required
The problem can’t be him...
So if I’m honest
About the little matter of the mobile trees
I’ll be back where I was
At the beginning
Only worse
Publicly certified to be
“Irretrievably Miracle-Proof”
A badge of distinction
I’d rather not wear
In these parts
Truth be told
On second thought
Maybe this is how people are supposed to look
Maybe everyone sees this way
And my eyes just haven't adjusted yet
Who can trust their perceptions anyway?
I think I’ll just say
I’m seeing great--
Great, I say!
Thanks, Jesus
This is swell
I could fool my friends
And maybe even me
For a time
Plus it would fit so much neater into the Good Book
With all the other go-and-tell-no-one’s
If this had just worked
Like it was supposed to
But truth is
I’m seeing trees
Walking
I’ll just say, Yes,
I see something, alright
And be done with this
Embarrassing mess of a miracle
Then again
He won’t be fooled
And I won’t see
Any better
Do I see anything, he says
Again, if he is God, why does he bother asking?
Jesus, don’t take this the wrong way
But would you be so kind as to--
Oh, I can’t even say it!
What if I am the only one so flawed
Even Jesus’ touch can’t fix me--
Now that’s defective--
I wouldn’t be surprised though
This really should have worked the first time
Shame on
Me
How dare I even hint
He do this over?
Then again
What do I have
To lose?
The scene plays itself out
In my head
Like an movie projector
Turned inward:
Jesus would you be so kind as to ...
Try again
To not give up on me
Because I’d so like to see clearly
And my friends here were counting on it
Then he,
Marking my thoughts,
Puts his hands on my eyes
A second time
No apologies
No rebukes
Because that is what I needed to be whole
What I had sought to begin with
And what he always wanted to give
He’s powerful enough
To do anything right
First time
If I ever doubted it before
I cannot possibly now
So why the redo?
Why the installment plan miracle
For me
God?
Perhaps fixing eyes
Wasn’t the only spectacle
On display
But also
Truth in the inner parts
Honest insight of myself
To myself
My God
And others
If I hadn’t dared to answer plainly
Right there
With Jesus
In front of all those who were
A bit impatient--I dare say, annoyed--at my bluntness
(Truth be told)
I might never have seen clearly
But only trees walking always
Sight not a gift, thereafter
But a curse haunting me
All the more
Sometimes with friends
Especially those awaiting some miracle
To be done in me
I want to tell them
What they want to hear
What fits their spin of the redemption story
Or worse
I want to tell Jesus
What I think he wants to hear
Rather than
What’s really going on inside
And how it all seems to me
Like it or not
But when I do
I remember
Him asking me
If I see anything
Him taking the time to ask
Him, believing, not rebuffing
And him showing messed-up, miracle-proof me
He has a few more tricks
Up his sleeve
Truth be told
Sometimes I still see trees walking
But because I’m risking and trying
And turning to him
There’s healing to be found
For my blind spots
Even yet
