I am not blind, nor was the blind Bartimeus, who “saw” Jesus when sighted people could not. “Could not” was why they did not. I know this because, until Jesus lifted the blindfolds off my eyes, I could not see Him, either. It wasn’t until I needed Him so much that I cried out. Out loud.
For crying out loud. That phrase means something to me this day, thirty-five years after I first saw Jesus as real and alive. Today I am in the midst of a squall so severe that I’ve been seasick for days. I have no choice but to persevere, like Bartimeus, who would not be silenced. And neither will I.
Chime in if you, too, will not shut up; no matter how convincing your discouragement; if you, too, love Bartimeus for crying out loud.
FYI, this photograph was posted on Facebook by Annie Averill.