Seeing Jesus in Mark 9

A few days ago, I wrote this entry in my journal. It led to the poem that I posted yesterday.

I have to confess: sometimes I don’t see Christ as glorious. This morning I listened to a snippet of Piper’s message at SBTS from a few weeks ago. He was proclaiming the gospel as “the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of the invisible God.” And I really want to see this and believe this.

Driscoll says he himself needs time with Jesus.
I want to spend some time with Jesus.

I want to love Jesus and see his glory, like the disciples on the Mount.

I read Mark 9 just a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t see it.
It was, honestly, not all that thrilling. The Transfiguration, healing the boy with an unclean spirit, prophecy, arguments among the disciples. All of it, familiar; the same. I didn’t pray, either. To see, I mean. I can hear Piper’s voice in my head, “Oh, God, just let me see!”

So, I’m praying it: LET ME SEE! Christ’s words rebuke me, his incredulous response to the boy’s father: “If you can?!?” And the boy’s father cries out, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”

So do I. I know the blindness is in me. The complacency. The apathy. How sinful it is. How easily I can feel godly sorrow for lust. The sin of blindness and not caring, though, just sits there. I feel nothing. I’m sure that if, right now, I heard that someone or something I love was lost, or my stock went up double-digit percentage, I’m sure that I’d feel something then. Seeing Jesus, though, is another thing, and I don’t see him, I don’t love him, and his glory isn’t exciting. His blood covers it, though! The apathy, the complacency, the blindness!

It creeps in, then, the vision. In snippets. Like glancing over to the Bible next to me, seeing Christ ask, perfectly timed and worded, “What were you discussing on the way?”

He had things to teach them, lessons the crowds weren’t privy to.

I am servant.
Receive a child like this one. That’s how I receive you.
Be like me.

The lowliness of earth surrounds me, and I will die.
I became a man.
I am a man.
I’ll be delivered to death.
The glory of heaven surrounds me, and I will rise.
I am God.
I am God.
I’ll be delivered from death.

And God is faithful, because the glory of his Son trumps hazy apathy, if only I’ll take the time to sit and sup with him awhile.

So I praise him:
Thank you for your faithfulness.