What do you want Jesus to do for you?
Have you ever struggled to ask for prayer for yourself? I know I have! It’s so much easier to ask others to pray for our loved ones or even people we barely know than to be vulnerable and honest about our deepest needs?
I had a Bible study teacher in San Antonio who would always begin our prayer time with the question, “What do you want Jesus to do for you?”
This one simple question has the power to cut through our self-protective defenses, silence the clutter of our circumstances, and expose the heartbeat of our truest, purest desires.
The penetrating question actually comes from the story of Bartimaeus. Remember in last week’s blog, we celebrated the untamed courage of this blind man who yelled for Jesus’ help, refusing to let the doubts of others silence his voice of hope.
Then the Bible tells us that as soon as Jesus heard him calling out for mercy, he stopped walking and said, “Tell him to come here.”
Now this next part always makes me chuckle - the fickle crowd which had been trying their level best to make Bartimaeus simply hush up and behave himself suddenly becomes his BFFs. “Cheer up! Come on! He’s calling you!”
But here’s where things get interesting. After throwing off his coat, Bartimaeus jumps up, runs to Jesus and hears the following question.
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked.
Now at first glance, it seems an odd question, right? My initial reaction is a somewhat irreverent “Duh … the guy’s blind … so I’m thinking he probably wants to … see.”
Jesus, of course, knew exactly what Bartimaeus needed before he even asked … so why do you think He takes time to pose the question and wait for an answer?
“My rabbi,” the blind man said, “I want to see!” And Jesus said to him, “Go, for your faith has healed you.” Instantly the man could see, and he followed Jesus down the road. (Mark 10:51-52)
My heart is deeply touched by Bartimaeus’ hope, his child-like faith, and the simple wording of his impossible request. He didn’t try to guard his heart from disappointment by asking Jesus to help someone else. He didn’t try to act tough by pretending he didn’t need help. He didn’t try to impress Jesus with a wordy, effusive, religious-sounding prayer. And he didn’t play it safe by asking for money rather than healing – (imagine how boring that would’ve been!)
I wonder how powerful our prayers would become if we stopped playing it safe and instead ran to Jesus with the same hopeful vulnerability and faith-filled courage.
What do you want Jesus to do for you?
