Did Jesus' power wane on that day he healed the blind man's sight? My theology says no, but that day it took two tries to achieve clarity of sight.
A traditional interpretation tells us Jesus uses different means to the same ends, and His more earthy means do not negate His divinity or omnipotence. In other words, it wasn't a screw up.
A little spit.
A little mud.
Rub it in the eyes.
Two tries
- then the man could finally see clearly.
While true, that interpretation sidesteps something. What is the point of Christ's methods, and the intermediate outcome? As I understand God's workings, He seems to care so much about journey and the means. The journey and the means of getting there are just as important as the destination and the end. And in this healing passage we encounter such a strange mid point on the journey - people like trees walking around.
We could be rational - scientific! Maybe the first try healed his eyes allowing the light to reach his brain, but a second healing was needed to fill his brain with all the necessary neural pathways and signs and symbols to understand what he could now see. Maybe...
But what if the middle step wasn't a deficiency or an accident? What if the man saw something true? What if he saw something real? A deeper alternate discernment that is not of the eyes? What if it was granted temporarily to him so it could be recorded in Scripture for all of us?
What if we, indeed, are the trees walking around?
The type of a tree is used again and again in God's revelation. There's the tree of knowledge of good and evil - the gateway to depravity. There's the burning bush - God making himself visible. There's the hyssop branch used to brush the doorpost with blood - marking God's people to be passed over. Then of course the Cross - God's chosen instrument of salvation. Vines and branches, bearing fruit, mustard seeds, withered figs, on and on. And this blind man sees people like trees walking around.
I don't mean to push a mixed metaphor too far, and I certainly am. But we could do a lot worse than seeing people as trees walking around.
The other night I had a vision. A dark tree was split by a light descending which unfolded into a book with one red page. The tree splayed open, and several lights emerged from the book, encircling it. There was a serene and vacant village in the background.
As I put the vision to paper, the act of working it before the Lord opened some new details: a wash of red, the blood of Christ; the curves of the supine branches touching the red, the use of hyssop at the passover; a hint of green, new life in Him; and then I had a real sense: I am this tree.
This calling to speak God's word exercised through artistic gifts is to make the invisible God visible - to make God accessible. It is His work and I am a vessel - sort of like a burning bush. But understand. It is not just me. I am not in this alone. I am this tree, but we are the trees! (here I mean the church) We, collectively, are God's vessel of visibility. We are the burning bush. We are branches dipped in blood applying grace to the lives of many. And we are the instrument of both Christ's pain and of God's salvation.
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