be opened

There are things I know a lot about, and things I don’t know much about at all.

I know quite a bit about tactics and strategy - for example, that a wall or any other physical obstacle is useless without someone watching it (that’s Tactics 101, something even the greenest Second Lieutenant knows). I know a lot about military history; I have a Masters in Land Warfare. I know quite a bit about birds, after chasing them across a wide variety of landscapes for more than 40 years. And, having been responsible for a couple thousand men and women in various capacities over the years, I like to think I know a few things about leadership.

Even though I have opinions, I have to admit I know next to nothing about immigration, or health care, or any other topic of national politics - everything I know about those is second-hand, from people who want to sell me on their own opinions. I know just enough about how money works to be dangerous (fortunately I have a very smart and detail-oriented wife). And, after over five decades of reading scripture, I’ve learned just enough about God to wish I knew more.

In fact, this morning that longing made me see a metaphor in the miracle Jesus worked in Mark 7:33-35: “After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means ‘Be opened!’). At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly.”

When I read of this man, so long unable to hear or speak, being healed, I was jealous. I immediately saw a spiritual analogy, and I longed to be opened myself. I wanted desperately for Jesus to open my eyes so that I could really see him at work and his kingdom here on earth. And I wanted just as badly for my tongue to be loosened so that I could more effectively tell people about what I see. 

Right now, in the words of Paul, I see as through a darkened glass; I want to see clearly. Right now, I struggle to put in words and sentences and paragraphs what I feel in an overflowing heart; I wish I could do better. 

In the end, I’m reminded that all of Jesus’ miracles had the dual purposes of revealing his own loving heart and showing us his divine power. And I’m convicted that more than any physical healing, his passion was to mend our broken relationship with God.

In the end, I think, this slow, disciplined working out of my sanctification in response to his command is my response to his command, “Be opened.”