Questions From Jesus: What Do You Want Me to Do For You?

The First United Presbyterian Church

“Questions from Jesus: What Do You Want Me to Do for You?”

Rev. Amy Morgan

September 1, 2019

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Psalm 34:1-8

I will bless the LORD at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.

 2 My soul makes its boast in the LORD; let the humble hear and be glad.

 3 O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together.

 4 I sought the LORD, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.

 5 Look to him, and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed.

 6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the LORD, and was saved from every trouble.

 7 The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them.

 8 O taste and see that the LORD is good; happy are those who take refuge in him.

Luke 18:35-43

35 As he approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging.

 36 When he heard a crowd going by, he asked what was happening.

 37 They told him, "Jesus of Nazareth is passing by."

 38 Then he shouted, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

 39 Those who were in front sternly ordered him to be quiet; but he shouted even more loudly, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

 40 Jesus stood still and ordered the man to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him,

 41 "What do you want me to do for you?" He said, "Lord, let me see again."

 42 Jesus said to him, "Receive your sight; your faith has saved you."

 43 Immediately he regained his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, praised God.

It began with a long story. A man walked into the church, seeking help. But he didn’t lead with what he needed. Instead, he shared about his cross-country trip to be with his aunt dying of Alzheimer’s, his mother’s ill health that kept him here after his aunt’s death, the reasons his siblings won’t help of even talk to him. His young son had to come with him. He couldn’t work because he had to care for his son and his mother. He had health challenges of his own.

I listened for a good 20 minutes or so as text messages, emails, and people poking their heads into my office tried to drown out the man’s story. It was a sincere and tragic tale. But it bore enough resemblance to other stories I’ve heard over the years to make me suspicious of its veracity. I had plenty of other things in front of him that I knew needed my attention. But he had come here, asking for help. So I listened.

Finally, I stopped him. I asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” He had shared a multitude of needs. Food. Transportation. Shelter. Medical support. Employment. Childcare. The number of things he might have needed was significant. But after 20 minutes of listening to him, I still had no idea why he was sitting in my office. I was pretty sure it wasn’t so I could pray with him and send him on his way.

“We need a night in our motel.” He had a check arriving the next day, but he needed to cover the cost of their room for tonight. Done. I called the motel, paid for the room, prayed with him and blessed him. Once he named his need, he got what he needed.

We often feel like we have to justify our needs. Whatever our mess or misfortune may be, we have to justify why it should matter, why someone should consider helping us. We only ask for what we think we can justify. There are often other priorities or people in front of us, telling us our needs don’t matter. And so we have trouble just naming what we need.

I remember once when our car was in the shop, I needed a ride somewhere. It was last-minute and inconvenient, and I was upset with myself for not thinking of it sooner and getting things worked out with Jason. So I called Laura Aeling because she was the first person I could think of who was nearby and who might pick up my call in the middle of the day.

But I couldn’t bring myself to just ask for a ride. I had to give her the whole long story of what was going on with the car and why it was important for me to get to this appointment and the mix-up in my communication with Jason that had led to this sudden and urgent situation. As I was going through this story, Laura interjected, “So you need to borrow my car?” No, not that, I explained. I just needed her to drop me off at this appointment, and Jason would pick me up. “Oh, okay, no problem, I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said.

Once I named my need, I got what I needed.

In our story from Luke’s gospel today, a blind man is sitting on the side of the road, literally and physically on the margins of society. His needs are practically endless. People who were physically blind belonged to a class of society that biblical scholar Joel Green calls “Expendables,” people for whom society has no use, people without a shred of power or privilege, people who could disappear and no one would notice or care. Except for the practice of almsgiving in Jewish society, these people had no resources, no one who felt responsible for their well-being. They were an embarrassment to their families because it was assumed that their misfortune was a consequence of their own sin. Their lives were likely to be merciless and brief.

When the spotlight of Luke’s gospel falls on this particular blind man, it seems to only be by chance, as it is tracking Jesus on his journey through Jericho to Jerusalem. The man lights up when he hears the footsteps and excited voices of the crowd following Jesus. He listens and asks questions of anyone who will talk to him and acknowledge his existence. He learns that Jesus is from Nazareth, and he seems to be important and influential. Thus the crowd following him around.

Many scholars place the spotlight on this blind man because he illustrates this Lukan obsession with the metaphor of sight. They note how the man, though physically blind, had the spiritual insight to know that Jesus was the Son of David, the Messiah. They point out the spiritual blindness of the religious leaders and even the disciples at other points in the narrative. The spotlight is on this man because his physical disability does not keep him from seeing the truth of God’s kingdom.

It’s rare that I’ll disagree with scholarly opinion, but in this case, I’m inclined to do so. It’s true that the man cries out to Jesus using the title, “Son of David,” which some scholars equate with the title “Son of God” used earlier in Luke. So it’s possible this fellow has mystically received knowledge of Jesus as the Son of God/Son of David, the Davidic king promised in the prophecies of the coming Messiah. But the Davidic Messiah was anticipated as one who would come to redeem the people of Israel, to conquer their enemies, restore their fortunes, and rule over the Israelites as a powerful divine king.

A blind man begging on the side of the road really could have cared less about the geo-political forces shaping the world around him. Likely as not, he’d still be begging on the side of the road no matter which worldly or otherworldly power was in charge.

The term “Son of David” could just as reasonably be applied to anyone in the lineage of king David, which by this point in history was a sizable segment of the Jewish population. It was a term of respect and, dare I say, flattery.

I can’t tell you the number of times someone has come to the church asking for help, looking past me and asking to talk to the pastor. And when they discover that I am the pastor, the term “pastor” is every other word out of their mouth as they attempt to correct their misunderstanding and show deference and respect.

The blind man must overcome incredible odds to gain the attention of Jesus. Shouting out to him with a term of respect and flattery is, I believe, is a strategy more than an insight.

What the man is asking for in his plea for attention is mercy. Now, mercy could mean a number of things here. He could be asking for forgiveness or forbearance, potentially asking for whatever sin caused his blindness to be forgiven, if he believes Jesus to be in the business of forgiving sins. But mercy is also used more generally to ask for alms, for money or generosity.

And this second use of the term mercy makes more sense in this context. If the man doesn’t know Jesus to be the Son of God, he’s not going to be asking him for divine intervention. What the man does all day, every day, with every person who passes by him, is ask for mercy, for alms, for help. He’s asking Jesus, as a person who clearly has resources and influence, for generic assistance. He’s expressing, in this short phrase, shouted again and again at higher and higher volumes until he can’t be ignored, the great multitude of needs he is experiencing.

As one of society’s expendables, this man needed many things. Basic physical needs like food, clothing, shelter. Social needs for love and acceptance and community. He needed status and security. And when he shouted out for mercy, perhaps these were the needs he had in mind. Perhaps he hoped Jesus would give him some money or food. Perhaps he hoped Jesus would make him part of his crew so he would have friends and a higher purpose. Perhaps he hoped Jesus would teach his family and community that they should care for and support him.

When Jesus finally hears this man, over the obstacle of those who “were in front” trying to silence him, he “stood still.” This is such a fascinating little detail, and it is included in both Matthew and Mark’s versions of this story as well, even though other details are altered.

By this point in Luke’s narrative, Jesus is a man on the move. He is on a mission, heading for Jerusalem. This story is filled with motion. Jesus is approaching Jericho, he is passing by.

But then he stops and stands still. He waits for the man to be brought to him. He gives him his full and undivided attention. And he asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Jesus doesn’t ask what the man needs, or what he deserves. He doesn’t ask him to justify his request for mercy. He doesn’t evaluate the man’s situation to determine what type of assistance and in what amount will really make an impact in the man’s life. He doesn’t study best practices for helping the blind. He doesn’t even use divine wisdom to discern what the man needs most so he can provide it.

Instead, he asks one of the most extravagant questions in all of scripture. “What do you want me to do for you?” Not “what do you need?” What do you want?

When our new Executive Presbyter was being examined at Presbytery last weekend, she got a lot of questions about what she was going to do for different groups in the region. People wondered what she was going to do for the rural churches, the Latino community, the youth in the Presbytery.

Again and again, she gave the same answer. She was going to listen. She was going to ask them what they wanted her to do for them. She wasn’t going to formulate her independent plan for them based on what she perceived their needs to be. She was going to ask them to dream, to explore God’s abundance, and to ask for what they want. I don’t even think she realized just how biblical her answer was.

Sometimes we wish that Jesus would just tell us what we need, what will really transform our lives for the better. Our needs are so overwhelming sometimes that we can’t prioritize them well. We can’t articulate what we need most in order to ask for it. We just want to know God’s plan for us so that God can give us what God knows that we need.

But instead, Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” And we have to stop and think. Not about what we need. Not about our scarcity and what we lack. But what we want. Jesus invites us to dream, to explore God’s abundance, to see possibilities we haven’t yet imagined.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to justify our needs. Instead, he asks us about something we can’t possibly justify: the things we want, the things that we know are too extravagant, the things we couldn’t possibly deserve.

The man on the side of the road, on the margins of society, needed many things. But he wanted his sight. So that he could provide for his own basic needs and contribute to his community. So that he could follow Jesus. He asked for something audacious, something no one but God could provide. He asked for abundant life instead of a life mired in scarcity and survival.

It is uncomfortable and awkward and difficult to ask for what we need. But we are happy to ask for what we want. As young children, we eagerly made Christmas lists and weren’t shy about asking for what we wanted for our birthdays. We register for wedding gifts and baby showers so that our friends and family know what we want. Amazon has wish lists that you can share with others for any occasion.

I’ll tell you that I have no shame asking God for many of the things I want. I want church leaders, elders and deacons, who are gifted and passionate and ready and willing to serve this church. I want a church staff that is positive and committed and capable and in love with this church. I want folks committed to working to transform our city with the love and justice of God. I have unabashedly asked God for all these things, and here you all are.

Earlier in Luke’s gospel, Jesus says, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” Don’t be shy, Jesus says. Tell me what you want me to do for you.

Now, I’ve also told God I’d love to win the lottery and have someone discover a cure for Alzheimer’s disease. Asking for what you want does not guarantee you’ll get it, at least not immediately. I might still win the lottery. Especially if I played it.

This is not prosperity gospel, where Jesus wants everyone to be healthy, wealthy and happy. The emphasis throughout the gospel of Luke is on God’s radical transformation of the social structures of society that place some people at the top and makes other people expendable. Jesus doesn’t ask Herod or Pilate or the rich ruler, “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks a man who has nothing, who is nothing, “What is your big, outlandish dream?” This is not a question to reinforce our materialism or privilege. It is a question that leads to the reversal of fortunes, the upending of oppressive social structures, the termination of institutional injustice.

When Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” he’s inviting us to dream with him about what the reign of God might look like in our lives and in the world right now. He’s inviting us to ask for that thing that no one but God could do for us so that we might see God at work in the world. He’s encouraging us to help bring heaven to earth through imagining the impossible.

So let’s stop asking for what we need, with all our justifications and apologies. Let us live instead in the abundance of God’s kin-dom, asking for what we most deeply want, dreaming and imagining and hoping beyond hope. And giving all glory to God in Jesus Christ. Amen.