[Note: This sermon expounds Mark 10:46–52 with Matthew 20:29–34. Delivered 1 February 1981, Montreal.]
We have been studying the subject of faith for several sessions, beginning from Mark 10:46. One of the most striking things in the Gospels is the extent to which the disciples failed to believe what Jesus told them about his coming resurrection. When the women reported the resurrection on Easter morning, Luke 24:11 tells us that their words seemed to the disciples like an idle tale, and they did not believe them. On the road to Emmaus, the Lord himself had to rebuke two of them: "O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken." Thomas refused to believe unless he could see and touch the wounds himself. This was not peripheral unbelief about some minor matter — it was unbelief about the very centrepiece of the gospel.
Why did they disbelieve? The disciples believed in Jesus as King and Messiah. They expected him to reign. But they could not reconcile that expectation with the idea of his death. In their understanding, a Messiah who died was a contradiction in terms. Every time he told them he would be killed and rise again, they simply could not absorb it. Luke 18:34 says plainly that they understood none of these things, and the saying was hidden from them. So the Lord needed to give them a concrete lesson in faith — and he chose the occasion of Bartimaeus.
The blind man Bartimaeus was sitting by the roadside at Jericho begging when he heard that Jesus of Nazareth was passing. He immediately cried out: "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" The crowd around him told him to be quiet, but he cried out all the more. "Son of David" is a messianic title — Bartimaeus already had genuine faith in who Jesus was. His faith was not tentative or hedged; it was persistent. When the crowd tried to silence him, he simply shouted louder. And when the Lord stopped and called him, he threw off his cloak and sprang up — a man who could not see yet moved without hesitation. Jesus said to him: "What do you want me to do for you?" He said: "Master, let me recover my sight." And Jesus said to him: "Go your way; your faith has made you well." Immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.
What this passage teaches is not primarily about miracles as such, but about the relationship between faith and God's power. God's power is available and operative — but it requires faith to access it. Unbelief does not merely fail to draw on that power; it actively closes the door. The Lord himself could do no mighty works in Nazareth because of their unbelief, and he marvelled at it. This is not a limitation of God's power but a reflection of God's own design: he chooses to work through the faith of those who trust him.
Does God still heal today in the twentieth century? I came across two books in a bookshop some time ago that address this question from a contemporary standpoint. One is by Dr. Richard Gastorf, a medical doctor who documents ten cases of healing with medical certification — before and after medical records verifying the condition and its subsequent absence. These are not accounts from credulous lay people but from a physician who applied medical standards of evidence. The second book is the autobiography of Guy Bevington, a remarkable man of faith from the previous century whose account of miracles is extraordinary. One of the most striking incidents concerns broken ribs.
Bevington was injured in an accident in which three ribs were broken and a bone splinter was driven into the surrounding tissue. He was in severe pain. A roommate urged him to see a doctor, but Bevington had a settled conviction that he should take every matter of this kind directly to God in prayer first. He had a practice of going to pray in a hollow log — not because there was anything special about the location, but because it provided solitude and, one suspects, a posture of humility. He began to pray for healing. The days passed and the pain continued. After nine or ten days of sustained, continuous prayer, something remarkable happened.
[Continues in Part B]
# Your Faith Has Made You Well — Mark 10:46–52 (Part B) — Nine Days of Prayer; Healing of Broken Ribs; The Faith That Does Not Quit
[Note: This is Part B of the sermon on Mark 10:46–52 with Matthew 20:29–34, continuing directly from Part A. Delivered 1 February 1981, Montreal.]
When Bevington's roommate learned the full severity of the injury — three broken ribs and a large bone splinter — he was alarmed and pressed him more urgently to see a doctor. A doctor was eventually brought in, who examined Bevington and confirmed the diagnosis: three fractured ribs and a splinter that would require surgery. The estimated cost of the operation was seven hundred dollars, which Bevington did not have. After negotiation the doctor reduced the price to eighty dollars, but Bevington still refused. He told the doctor plainly that he intended to trust God for his healing. The doctor, alarmed by this, threatened to have him committed to an asylum on grounds that refusing necessary medical treatment was evidence of unsound mind. He gave Bevington a twenty-four hour deadline to agree to the operation.
Bevington asked for twenty more hours — a total of forty-four. He returned to his place of prayer and continued. The ninth morning, at four o'clock in the morning, something extraordinary happened: he felt himself physically changing. He described the sensation as feeling himself grow smaller — a strange contraction of the body. And then he heard and felt his bones click back into place. He was healed. He got up and began jumping — he jumped for three hours, overwhelmed with joy and praise. When the doctor returned and insisted on taking x-rays, the films showed no fracture. The splinter that had been driven into the tissue was back in its normal position. The doctor wept.
Now, a crucial pastoral note must be added here. Do not read this story and immediately try to imitate Bevington by refusing all medical treatment. That would be a serious misapplication of what faith means. Bevington himself did not arrive at this kind of faith by a sudden decision. His faith had been built up over years of smaller tests, of taking little things to God in prayer and seeing God answer, until his trust in God's faithfulness had grown to this level. Faith is not a technique that you apply; it is a living relationship that grows. To attempt an action that requires the faith of Bevington without having Bevington's history with God is not faith — it is presumption.
The same principle applies to the cases documented by Dr. Gastorf. These are medically certified healings in the twentieth century, confirming that what God did in the pages of the New Testament he still does today. God has not changed, and his power has not diminished. But the door to that power is faith — genuine, living, tested trust in the character and faithfulness of God.
When I meet with our Friday Bible study group, I ask people honestly: when you were last put to the test — when you were sick, or in financial difficulty, or facing some crisis — did you fully trust God? Did you genuinely believe he would act? Most honest Christians, if they are really searching their hearts, will admit that when the pressure was on, their trust was not what they would like it to be. This is not a cause for condemnation but for honest self-examination. Faith is not a binary possession — it grows, and it grows precisely through the exercise of trusting God in circumstances where it costs you something to do so. Bartimaeus grew in faith through his desperate need. Bevington grew in faith through accumulated years of smaller answers. The invitation is to begin where you are and grow.
Let us be quiet before God in prayer.