15.07 | Unsilenced
Luke 18:31-19:10
‘And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”’
Luke 18:39
When I started secondary school, I was a really quiet kid.
I’d had some bad experiences of friendships in primary school, which had taught me that talking was dangerous. Talking could lead to getting things wrong, to mocking, rejection, and isolation. Talking usually led to saying something that didn’t meet the social criteria of the in-crowd. And so, to avoid the humiliation, I didn’t do a lot of it. Some days I’d pass the whole day with barely a word to anyone.
There’s a wonderful irony, in the Kingdom inversions of Jesus, that He has called me to a role that leans most especially on using my voice. Truly His power is made perfect in our weakness.1
Being silenced is a deeply dehumanising thing. Humankind has found a million different reasons to silence people, using hellish agendas of power and hierarchies of value to justify the denial of a voice—be it gender, race, types of pain that we find uncomfortable, class, or social conventions of what is charismatic and what is cool.
But to rob a human of their voice is to deny their personhood. As children of the God who spoke creation into being,2 it denies our identity as bearers of His image. As people of faith, it denies us the primary expression of that faith.3
I love the blind man today. He amazes me.
In Mark’s Gospel, we find out that he’s called Bartimaeus.4 His day begins as usual, sitting by the roadside, dependent on the loose change of passers by to give him food for the day. If you’ve ever had to ask others for money, you might know a little of how this feels. For this man, he had likely had years of this dehumanising experience. Years of dependency. Years of disempowerment. Years of being inhibited from the basic human desire to contribute.
And then, he hears that Jesus is going past.
He raises his voice: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
The people try to shut him up. They have good reason to. ‘Son of David’ was a title for the Messiah. Bartimaeus isn’t using an inoffensive nickname here; he’s shouting over the din of a crowded street the Messianic identity that even Jesus’ closest disciples have so far only whispered in private. This is not just noisy and awkward; it’s offensive.
They tell him to be silent.
And yet, and here’s the thing that gets me, he just keeps on shouting.
Bartimaeus is told to be quiet. Bartimaeus has been told to sit down. Bartimaeus has been told to return to his corner and keep begging.5
But Bartimaeus will not be silenced.
His tenacity is stunning. The shameless confidence in the power and person of Jesus. His rebuttal of all societal niceties. The willingness to shout louder than the crowd and defy every critical voice.
Sometimes faith operates exactly like this. It means making a decision—sunning those voice commanding your silence, and raising your voice to declare the name of the only one who matters.
It took me years to learn this. I’m still learning. Sometimes the silencing voices come from others, sometimes from the enemy, and sometimes they come from inside—the toxic words of wounding creating an internal narrative of crippling silence.
And yet faith is the great rebellion against fear. It is the refusal to obey the silencing of the world. It is the moment we hear the rebukes of the crowd, fill our lungs with breath, and defy them with our honest cries of heavenly hunger.
There’s few miracles I’d rather have witnessed than this one. The moment Jesus called him over. The moment Jesus gave his command. And the moment that Bartimaeus—vindicated in his defiance—opened those eyes in the dazzling wonder of sight restored, to see the smiling face of the unsilencing Messiah.
Reflect:
Where am I living right now as the silenced? What would it look like to lift my voice above the crowd?
This question may take you deeply costly places. Do this with Him. Ask Him for His next step in living unsilenced today.
Pray:
Lord Jesus,
The crowd is oppressive.
They have criticised me,
Taunted me;
Humiliated me;
Cancelled me;
Shunned me.
They have told me that the welcome voice
Is the tidy one;
The one with muted emotion—
Politically correct,
And a million shades of grey.
And yet, Father,
There’s a voice of passion in this soul,
That wants to breathe,
And aches to cry out,
And knows that it can only live free,
In the defiance of courage.
And so,
Son of David,
I give you my voice again today.
And as I do so,
Would you send your Spirit upon me,
To partner my little steps of courageous faith,
With a healing touch
To a life that is learning to see.
In Your Name,
Jesus my Messiah,
Amen
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
Isaiah 62-64 | Psalm 87
2 Corinthians 12:9
Genesis 1
Romans 10:8-10
See Mark 10:46
For the fans of the movie Dirty Dancing, this entry was almost named ‘Nobody puts Bartimaeus in the corner’