Have Mercy on Me

One of the most incredible blessings of studying the gospels is that we get to see Christ on full display week after week. We get to bathe in the immeasurable glories of Christ, we get to behold his perfections, we get to marvel at his majesty. And what begins to happen as we behold him is that we begin to realize that the greatest privilege one can experience on this earth is to know Jesus Christ.

I wonder if you know Jesus Christ. As we’ve studied Mark, we’ve been able to see more clearly who he is. Do you know who he is? He’s the Son of God, come to accomplish salvation for his people. He has power and authority over demons. He can deliver you. He heals the sick, eliminates disease - even raises the dead. He is Lord, Son of Man, the one with absolute authority and complete power and sovereignty, God in the flesh, who walked the earth and taught us how to be reconciled with God. And what frames this with all the more beauty: He is merciful, he is kind and generous to sinners.

Mercy. That’s what we’re going to see this morning. For those who feel like they’ve got it all together, for those who feel strong, for those who feel entitled, for those who feel competent and talented - I’m not sure you’re going to like this sermon.

But if you feel weak, if you feel inept, if you are confused about life, if you feel like things are disintegrating around you, if you feel lost, if you feel weary, if you feel exhausted, if you feel like a failure, if you feel like you’re never good enough, I think this sermon will be cold water on your parched lips.

We sing the song, “His Mercy is More” and my favorite line in the song is, “He welcomes the weakest, the vilest, the poor, our sins they are many, his mercy is more.” So if you feel weak, vile, and poor, this message is for you.

Let’s look at the text: Mark 10:46-52.

The Context. They came to Jericho. Remember, they’re on their way to Jerusalem, coming from the north, heading southward, on their way to Jerusalem. As we talked about last week, Jesus not only knows he is going to die in Jerusalem, he knows precisely how he’s going to die. According to verse 34, they will mock him, they will spit upon him, they will flog him, and kill him. And what’s most amazing in verse 32 is that Jesus is leading the death march to his own execution. So determined is he to obey the Father and lay down his life as a sacrifice for sin, he walks ahead of the crowd.

Now, a lot of the terrain they would be passing through would be desert, and Jericho, which was known for having a flowing spring that watered the city, would have been a common resting place for people heading to Jerusalem. There are two cities historians say are the oldest inhabited cities in the world, one is Damascus, and the other is Jericho. The natural water source has made it a continual resting place for travelers.

During this time of year, Jesus is traveling with his disciples and they’re coming to Jericho, but it says that there’s a “great crowd” there too. This would be the great mass of humanity that would flood Jerusalem during the Passover. Jews from all over would head to Jerusalem in commemoration of the great act of redemption, the Exodus, when the people of God were rescued from Egyptian bondage, and they would participate in the Passover rituals as a memorial for generation after generation.

So Jericho was a good spot for a person to beg. Travelers were always passing through.

So Jesus, his disciples, and a great crowd are leaving Jericho. It’s interesting, Luke’s account says they’re arriving at Jericho. It seems like a discrepancy, until you learn that the Old Testament Jericho, where Joshua led Israel to march around the city seven times until the walls fell down, and the New Testament Jericho were not exactly the same. One of the Herods had built another, more modern Jericho about a mile away from the Old Jericho. And so it’s entirely possible that when Mark says they were leaving Jericho, he’s talking about the Old Jericho, and when Luke says he was arriving in Jericho, he’s referring to the new Jericho.

But it’s strange, you might think, that this little interlude is included just before his entrance into Jerusalem. I think the significance is twofold. First, this is the last miracle before the resurrection. The last one. He has flooded all Israel with miracle after miracle, and now he’s going to bring it to a dramatic conclusion with a final act of mercy. Second, notice Mark includes the name of the one healed. Bartimaeus. Remember, Mark wrote this gospel for the early church. And most scholars believe that Bartimaeus was likely a member of the early church, perhaps he and his father Timaeus were known, and Mark’s original audience would have known them.

In any case, Jesus, the disciples, and a great crowd, are all heading down to Jerusalem from Jericho, when they encounter blind Bartimaeus.

The Condition. Bartimaeus is described as a “blind beggar” and he is “sitting by the roadside.” We don’t know if he was blind from birth, if he had some accident or some disease that destroyed his eyesight, all we know is that he could not see. His whole world was darkness.

And in this culture and society, blindness was understood to be evidence of some sort of divine curse; a kind of punishment of some sort. If you remember from John 9, the disciples meet a blind man from birth and they ask Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind” (9:2). The implication is that somebody sinned. There’s no other explanation. Just as they were prone to think that the wealthy of the world were favored by God, so they were prone to think that the poor and marginalized and crippled were disdained by God.

And so ordinary society would not feel compulsion to create systems or structures that would help a blind man. Their blindness was some form of punishment. They were serving their sentence. And thus they were outcasts. They were literally considered some of the very worst people in society, the lowest of the low. Right there with tax collectors and prostitutes.

Now obviously, their blindness rendered them helpless in such a society. When you can’t see, you’re dependent upon the help of those who can see. But what happens when no one will help you? You become a beggar. You are left to plead for generous people to open their hearts and their purses.

And that’s what Bartimaeus had come to. He was cursed by God, so people - and I bet even he himself - believed. He was left alone, outcast of society. He has no one to help him, no one to feed him, no one to guide him.

The scene moves so quickly that you don’t pause to consider really how desperate this man’s condition is. He’s out in the day, sitting at the roadside. But what did he have to do every evening, when the shuffling of feet stopped, the road became silent? Where did he go? Where did he sleep? How did he procure food? How did he protect himself from the elements?

We don’t have that part of his life, we only have this fact: that he sat at the roadside, blind, helpless, considered accursed by God, begging. He is an abject lowlife in the eyes of everyone, worthy of no attention or respect by anyone, and he will suffer this way unless someone intervenes.

This is the man that Jesus is about to heal - a stark rebuke to the idea that God favors the rich, the wealthy, the healthy, the noble, the upstanding. The Pharisees believed that helped those who could help themselves. But our God is a God who delights to help those who cannot help themselves.

The Cry. Now what we do know about his life before this scene is that he had been hearing of Jesus. We know that, because when he hears that Jesus of Nazareth is approaching, he knows exactly who he is. This blind man has a better theology of Jesus than any of the well-educated, elite Pharisees ever did. He had a better Christology than most others. He hears about “Jesus of Nazareth,” which was a more ordinary, human way of referring to Jesus. But he doesn’t call him, “Jesus of Nazareth.” He cries out, but uses a far more significant name.

It says in verse 47 that he began to cry out. The word for “cry” here is a strong, emphatic word that could be described as a sort of scream or a shriek. It’s the word that describes the demoniac in chapter 5, when he was shrieking day and night. It’s used to describe the screams or groans of a woman in labor. This is not a “Hey Jesus!” thing.

Which is why, in verse 48, the crowds walking along with him rebuke him. There’s almost an embarrassment at the sudden shrieking of this blind man, as he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, over the din of the traveling pilgrims.

It is the scream of utter desperation, he’s not embarrassed, he’s not ashamed; he doesn’t have time to be concerned about what people might think of him. His sole concern at the present moment is to get the attention of Jesus. He is screaming out.

But look at what he’s saying: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” and even after they try to silence him, all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

What does he want? What’s interesting is that I think there’s a fascinating contrast between the previous story we looked at last week and this one. In the previous section, we have James and John requesting something of Jesus. They’re requesting seats at the right and left hand of Jesus when he comes to sit on his throne. They want exaltation. They want honor.

Why are they asking for those thrones? It appears they feel they might deserve it. They think it would be right for them to have those seats. They deserve such exaltation.

Bartimaeus has no such request. He does not feel so entitled. He simply cries: “Have mercy on me!” He wants one thing: mercy.

Mercy. What is mercy? We often define mercy as “not getting a punishment that you deserve.” That’s certainly part of it, but mercy is much more multifaceted than that. It is compassion. It is pity. It is the compulsion to do good for those who cannot help themselves. It is the desire to help the helpless. It is the compulsion to give to the undeserving.

It’s as if he is crying out, “I do not deserve help, but I need it. I have not earned your care, but I’m begging for it. If I do to pay for your help, I cannot afford it. I can give nothing in return. I have nothing to offer. I cannot pay you back. I cannot coax or coercion, I am appealing to your free mercy.

Fascinatingly, he calls him “Son of David.” Quick theological lesson. God made a promise to Abraham that through the nation of Israel, all the world would be blessed. How exactly that would happen was not completely clear. Hundreds of years later, he made another promise to king David, saying that there would be an offspring from David, a “Son of David,” who would establish God’s everlasting kingdom on earth, starting in Jerusalem - and that this would be the way God blesses the nations. The prophets all predict the coming of the Son of David. The glorious Son of David, who sits on David’s throne in Jerusalem, who sets up his kingdom - and this blind man cries out: “Son of David!”

In other words, the blind man knows who he is. He’s the chosen king! He’s about to go to Jerusalem! He’s going to David’s throne! He’s going to establish the everlasting kingdom! And so, in his blindness, in his poverty, in his need, in his desperation, he cries out, “Mercy!”

The Call. Now I think my favorite part comes next. “And Jesus stopped.” He was urgent, marching ahead according to verse 32. Now he stops. Something got his attention. He has his face set like flint, marching to his own death, nothing will get in his way - but then there’s something that grabs him by the heart, something he can’t resist, something he can’t say no to. It is the cry for mercy.

It’s as if the cry for mercy welled up in the heart of Bartimaeus, shot up through his vocal chords, out his lips, through the air, into Jesus’ ears, and went straight to his heart, and pierced the very heart of Christ. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Friends, Jesus can’t say no to true cries for mercy. It is outside of his character. He is by his very nature merciful. He is by his very nature a friend for sinners. He is by his very nature compassionate, gracious, gentle, tender, and kind.

I’m here to tell you there’s something Jesus cannot do. You respond: “I thought he was omnipotent.” Of course he is. All-powerful. And yet there is something that Jesus cannot do. He cannot do it because it is not in his nature. Here it is: He cannot resist true cries for mercy. It would utterly undo him. He would be no great Savior if he could turn away from the sinner begging for mercy.

Spurgeon is absolutely right when he says, “I tell you, if he were to shut you out, dear soul, whoever you may be, if you go to him, he would deny himself. He never did deny himself yet. Whenever a sinner comes to him, he becomes his Savior. Whenever he meets a sick soul, he acts as his Physician. . . . If you go to him, you will find him at home and on the look-out for you. He will be more glad to receive you than you will be to be received. . . . I tell you again that he cannot reject you. That would be to alter his whole character and un-Christ himself. To spurn a coming sinner would un-Jesus him and make him to be somebody else and not himself any longer. ‘He cannot deny himself.’ Go and try him; go and try him.”

Want to get Jesus' attention? Beg for mercy. It’s as if he is stopped in his tracks when there’s someone who is deeply aware of his own need for mercy.

And then notice that Jesus then becomes proactive to act on behalf of those who cannot help themselves. He says, “Call him.” Suddenly the crowd that was rebuking the blind man starts encouraging him: “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.”

Jesus becomes the pursuer. He comes after all those who cry to him in mercy. Why would anyone wait? Why would anyone hold themselves back from running to Jesus? Why would any sinner here not flee into his open arms of mercy? Why would any weak, confused, struggling sinner not run to the Son of David, the great king who delights to show mercy?

The Compassion. “What do you want me to do for you?” Concern. Care. Jesus loves to hear from his people. I wonder if anyone had paid this much attention to him in all his life. Here is the greatest man to ever have walked the earth, the great prophesied King of Kings - and here is, asking a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” It’s the question a servant might ask. A question a slave might ask.

Which is interesting, according to the context, isn’t it? In fact, in last week’s text, Jesus asked James and John back in verse 36, “What do you want me to do for you?” and they asked for exaltation and glory and honor. And Jesus had to teach them that true discipleship means becoming a servant, a slave of all. But it wasn’t all talk, because now God very God, all-knowing, all-wise, coternal and coequal with the Father, the incarnate Son of God, is standing before a cursed, blind, filthy, outcast - and he’s act like his servant, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Our Lord is not only glorious because of his majesty. He is glorious because of his humility. He is both lion and lamb, he King and Slave, he is Mighty and Meek, he is Glorious and gentle, He will return to Judge the quick and the dead, but first he will die in the place of sinners.

Have you come to Jesus for mercy?

The blind man responds: “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.” I don’t think the ESV translates this well. The word “Rabbi” is actually Raboni, which is a heightened form of Rabbi. Rabbi refers to an ordinary teacher, Raboni is a teacher yes, but one who is considered a master, even a Lord. Bartimaeus is recognizing that Jesus is Son of David, that he is Lord and Master, and that he has the power and authority to heal his blindness.

His request is one of humble faith. And it’s saving faith. Look at Jesus’ response: “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” Some translations say, “Your faith has saved you” - and for good reason. The Greek word for “has made you well” is sozo, which every first year seminary student will learn. It’s the word that refers to salvation. He’s certainly referring to the healing of the body, but I think this word indicates that he is referring to a greater salvation, something more than mere restored sight.

He gets his sight, but his humble cry of faith has united him to the savior, and the power of Christ is not only to heal the body but to restore the soul. And that’s precisely what happens - his faith saved him. Saved him from blindness, and saved him from judgment.

You see, this blind man saw better than most of us see. He saw his own weakness, whereas we so often see ourselves as self-sufficient. He saw his own need for mercy, whereas we often feel entitled. He saw that Jesus is the Son of David, whereas we often think of him as a religious celebrity. He saw that Jesus alone can heal, whereas we often turn to other solutions. He saw that Jesus delights to be gracious to the humble, whereas we often believe Jesus is only good to the deserving.

He saw that when everyone else would reject him, Jesus would take him in. He saw that God could love him, even with nothing to offer, nothing to pay, nothing of give. And isn’t that our God? “He welcomes the weakest, the vilest, the poor”? Isn’t it true that “a broken and a contrite heart, you won’t turn away?

The Commitment. “And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.” Bartimaeus began to follow Jesus. He followed him into Jerusalem. And I think he followed him to the cross. And I think he watched him die. And I think he was one of the faithful who stuck around at Pentecost. And I think he was part of the early church. And I think his whole life the blind, beggar, Bartimaeus, never grew out of the awe and wonder about the fact that the Son of God, who is also the promised Son of David, on a dusty road outside of Jerusalem, visited him with mercy, saved and purified his soul, exalted him from his lowly position, and guaranteed him eternal life in glory.

And that man, Batimaeus, when you see him in glory, will look like a king. He will be clothed with royalty. He will enjoy a glorified body. He will rule with Christ in the New Heavens and the New Earth.

And you, poor, confused sinner, will too. Because you, a poor wretched outcast, have trusted the mercy of Jesus, Jesus could never resist granting mercy to the one who asks for it.