Sent by Jesus and learning to see

Enter the story

Jesus sends them out two by two. Notice what he gives them, what they are to leave behind, and how they are to respond to those who welcome or reject them.

Commentary

Jesus sends them out two by two. I have always liked that detail. He does not send them alone. It is as though he knows that no one should carry such a task without someone beside them, someone to pray with in the evening and to share their doubts with when doors close.

Then he tells them what they must not take. No bread, no bag, no money in their belts, no second tunic. Only a staff and sandals on their feet.

I feel how this goes against something in me. I like to be prepared. I like to have enough with me, in my luggage and in life, so that I do not have to ask for anything. But that is precisely what Jesus takes away from them. They are to come to a village without being able to manage on their own. They have to receive.

I have been a guest in homes far away myself, and have felt how humbling and how good it can be to be welcomed by people who have little but give what they have. This is more than a practical arrangement. It is part of the message. Someone who comes with empty hands cannot buy trust. They have to receive it.

They are to stay in the first house they enter. They must not move on if someone offers a better bed. There is a quiet loyalty in this, a respect for the first door that opened.

And if no one welcomes them, they are to shake the dust off their feet. I do not read this as a sign of anger. I read it as permission to let go. Do not carry rejection with you into the next village. Do not let it settle in your sandals. You have done your part. Move on.

I have needed to hear that many times. I have carried dust from places where I was not welcomed, and let it weigh down the next encounter.

Finally, we read that they went out and preached, drove out evil spirits, and anointed sick people with oil. These are simple words about great things. And I notice that it happened through the very people who had brought the least.

Perhaps it is still this way. Perhaps it is not what we have packed, but what we have been willing to leave behind, that makes room for God.

Look closely

What authority do the disciples receive, and what do they do? What place do companionship and hospitality have in their mission?

Reflect

What do I want to have control over before I dare to go? Where do I need to learn to receive help?

Together

Who can we serve alongside, and how can we support each other when we are not welcomed?

Live it out

Do something with another person that shares the gospel or shows care. Be willing to receive help as well.

Enter the story

Mark pauses the story of Jesus' ministry to tell us what happened to John. Read how Herod responds to John, before and during the feast.

Commentary

The first thing Herod says when he hears about Jesus is that it must be John risen from the dead. This is not a theological assessment. It is his conscience speaking. He has had no peace since that evening, and now he sees the dead man in everything that moves.

Then Mark tells us how it happened, and John is not at the centre of the story. He sits in prison and says nothing. It is Herod we follow, and he is the one who troubles me most.

For Herod liked listening to John. We are told that he listened gladly, even though what he heard left him perplexed. He knew that John was a holy man. He protected him, in his own way. He was not an enemy of the truth. He simply never let it come close enough to cost him anything.

I recognise that. I can read, listen and agree, and still keep the truth at a safe distance, in a room I can enter whenever I want and lock whenever I want.

Then comes the feast. The guests, the wine, the dance, and a grand, careless promise. When the demand comes, the king is deeply distressed. But he looks at those sitting around the table, and he does not want to go back on his word in front of them. John dies not because Herod hates him, but because Herod cannot bear to lose face.

That is the quiet danger I read about here. Not great wickedness, but small acts of cowardice. Knowing what is right, and still doing the opposite because someone is watching.

John says nothing in this story. But his life has already said what needed to be said. He believed, he spoke, and he paid the price. Without having seen Easter morning.

And then the last sentence, which I often pause over: When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb. In the midst of all the horror, a few people stand there doing the only thing they can. They come. They care for what remains. They are faithful even when there is nothing more to gain.

I would like to be one of them. And I pray for grace not to be Herod, the man who listened gladly but never let himself be changed.

Look closely

What does Herod know about John, and why does he still do what he knows is wrong? What do John's disciples do at the end?

Reflect

Where do other people's opinions have more power over me than the truth I know?

Together

How can we help each other do what is right when standing for the truth comes at a cost?

Live it out

Take a step towards something right that you have put off for fear of what others will think. Seek support from someone you trust.

Enter the story

The disciples return and need rest. A large crowd is waiting for Jesus. See how he cares for the people and draws the disciples into his care.

Commentary

The apostles return to Jesus and tell him about everything they have done and taught. I notice that they come to him with what they have been part of. The one who sent them out is also the one they return to.

Jesus says: Come with me to a quiet place where we can be alone, and rest a little. So many people were coming and going that they did not even have time to eat.

I am glad of those words. Jesus sees more than the mission. He sees the people carrying it. He knows they need food and rest, and he asks them to come with him. I need to hear that invitation and take it seriously.

But when they arrive by boat, the people are already there. They have run along the shore and arrived before them. The quiet place is full of people.

Jesus sees the large crowd and has deep compassion for them, because they are like sheep without a shepherd. So he begins to teach them many things.

I pause over that. He sees more than people interrupting their rest. He sees people who need someone to lead them. And his compassion finds expression in teaching. They need words that can give their lives direction.

When it gets late, the disciples make a sensible suggestion. Send the people away so they can go to the farms and villages nearby and buy something to eat.

Jesus answers: You give them something to eat.

I can almost hear their astonishment. Should they buy two hundred denarii worth of bread? How could they manage that? They see how many people there are and what it will cost. Jesus asks what they have.

How many loaves do you have? Go and find out.

They find five loaves and two fish. That is little when five thousand men need feeding. Yet this is what Jesus receives. He does not ask for what they lack. He takes what they have.

I think that is a good question to bring into my own life. What do I have? What can I place in his hands? It is easy to become so absorbed in everything that is missing that I forget what has already been given to me.

Jesus asks them to have the people sit in groups on the green grass. Then he takes the five loaves and the two fish, looks up to heaven and gives thanks. He breaks the bread and gives it to the disciples to distribute.

Those who had just said that the people must be sent away now get to carry food to them. Jesus lets them take part in what he is doing. They cannot create the bread, but they can receive it from him and pass it on.

Everyone ate and was satisfied. And when they gathered what was left, they filled twelve baskets.

I do not know how the bread was multiplied. Mark does not explain it. But he tells us where it came from, who distributed it, and that everyone had enough.

This is what stays with me: Jesus saw the people and had compassion for them. He gave them teaching and food. And he drew the disciples into his care.

Look closely

What does Jesus do when he sees the people? Follow the bread through the story: Who receives it, who gives thanks, who breaks it, and who distributes it?

Reflect

What needs am I quick to pass on to someone else? What do I have that I can place in Jesus' hands? Receive his invitation to rest as well.

Together

What needs in our local community can we meet with what we have together?

Live it out

Share a meal, give practical help, or spend time with someone who needs a person to talk to.

Enter the story

After the miracle of the bread, the disciples row against the wind. Jesus sees them, but they do not recognise him when he comes. Read also about the encounter with the people at Gennesaret.

Commentary

Jesus sends the disciples off in the boat and goes up the mountain himself to pray. Then evening comes, and they row against the wind. We are told that he saw them struggling. He was on land, they were out on the lake, and yet he saw them.

I have often rowed like that, figuratively speaking. Not in a storm, just against the wind. The hours pass, your arms grow heavy, and you get nowhere. Your life is not in danger. It is simply exhausting, and it goes on a long time.

Only in the fourth watch of the night, towards dawn, does he come walking on the water. The whole night has passed. I cannot explain why he waited so long. But I notice that he saw them all along.

Then we read something strange: He intended to pass by them. I have read this as an image from the Old Testament, where God passes by Moses on the mountain and Elijah in the gentle whisper. Passing by is not walking away. It is revealing himself.

But they think it is a ghost and cry out in fear. And he says: Take courage. It is I (I am here! NLT). Do not be afraid. Three short sentences. I have carried them with me through many nights. Especially the middle one. It is I. I am here. Not an explanation, not a programme. Simply that he is there.

He gets into the boat, and the wind dies down.

Then comes the sentence I do not like, because it strikes home: They had not understood what had happened with the loaves, because their hearts were hard. That same day they had distributed bread to five thousand. And that night they did not recognise him.

I know what that is like. I may have seen God's care yesterday and still be frightened by the wind tonight. It is not wickedness. It is forgetfulness. The heart grows hard through weariness as much as through defiance.

When they reach land at Gennesaret, people run about carrying the sick on mats. Those who merely touch the fringe of his cloak are healed. The people on land understand something the disciples in the boat have not quite grasped yet: that coming close is enough.

Perhaps that is the prayer I am left with. Not that the wind should die down at once. But that I might recognise him when he comes, even late at night, and even when I am afraid.

Look closely

What does Jesus say to the frightened disciples? What does Mark connect to what happened with the loaves?

Reflect

What help from God am I quick to forget when I face new difficulties?

Together

How can we remind each other of Jesus' care without overlooking how exhausting the headwind can be?

Live it out

Write down a specific way you have received help from God. Thank him for it, and pray about something you are struggling with now.

Enter the story

Read the discussion about traditions alongside what Jesus teaches about the heart. Notice how he uses care for parents as a concrete example.

Commentary

Some teachers of the law have come all the way from Jerusalem, and the first thing they notice is the disciples' hands. They eat without washing as the elders have taught. This is not a discussion about hygiene. It is a question of who belongs among the clean.

I find it difficult to judge the Pharisees here. What they did came from a desire to take God seriously. They built a fence around the law so they would not come near the edge. I have built such fences myself. Habits, rules, ways of doing things that were once helpful. The danger is that eventually the fence becomes what we guard, rather than what it was meant to protect.

Jesus answers with words from Isaiah: These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Those words go straight to the heart. For I know how easy it is to say the right words, sing the right songs, and yet be somewhere else inside.

Then he gives an example that I find almost uncomfortably specific. A man can declare his property a gift to God, and thereby avoid helping his own elderly parents. The holy is used as a cover for avoiding love for those closest to us. I ask myself where I do something similar. Where I let ministry, work or spiritual things become a reason to avoid the person standing right in front of me.

Then Jesus calls the people to him and says something that must have sounded startling: It is not what goes into a person that makes them unclean. It is what comes out.

Later, inside the house, the disciples ask what he meant. He answers with a long list of what comes from the heart. I read it slowly. Some of the words concern actions I have never committed. Others concern things I know well: envy, pride, slander, thoughtlessness. The list does not let me hide behind the great sins I have avoided.

It is freeing and demanding at the same time. Freeing because no external thing, no food, no place, no person can make me unclean. Demanding because I can no longer blame anything outside myself. The source is within.

Perhaps that is why this passage ends in a prayer rather than a rule. Not: Keep your hands clean. But: Create in me a clean heart, God.

Look closely

What does Jesus set against human traditions? Where does he say the things that make a person unclean come from?

Reflect

What habits or rules do I use as a reason to avoid loving the person in front of me?

Together

Is there anything in our practices that hinders care or obscures God's word?

Live it out

Give time and practical care to someone close to you. Ask God as well to show you what needs to change in your heart.

Enter the story

A woman comes with her daughter's distress. The conversation is demanding. Read both her words and the answer Jesus gives before she goes home.

Commentary

Jesus goes to Tyre to have some peace. He enters a house and does not want anyone to know he is there. But we read that he could not remain hidden. There is something almost touching about that. The one who had power over storms and spirits could not have time to himself.

A woman comes and throws herself at his feet. She is Greek, born in Syrophoenicia. She does not belong, whether in terms of the people, the faith or the rules. But she has a little daughter who is not herself, and that is enough to make every boundary unimportant to her.

I have never quite managed to read Jesus' answer to her without feeling a sting. Let the children eat their fill first. It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs. I have tried to interpret it more gently, and there are good reasons to do so. But I do not want to smooth it over entirely. It is a hard word, and she hears it as hard.

What strikes me is what she does with it. She does not protest. She steps straight into his image and turns it around: Yes, Lord, but the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs. She does not ask for a place at the table. She asks only for what falls down.

I think no one else in Mark's Gospel gets the last word in a conversation with Jesus. She does. And he receives it. Because of what you have said, you may go home.

I think about what kind of faith this is. Not a faith that has answers to everything, but a faith that does not give up. She stands amid what she cannot understand and holds on. Perhaps this is what faith often looks like in parents. You pray for your child, and the answer does not come as you expected. You pray again, with different words, from another angle. You do not let go.

And then she goes home before she has seen anything. To me, that is the bravest thing in the whole story. She takes a word with her and nothing else.

At home, the girl is lying in bed. The spirit is gone. There is nothing more than that. A child at rest.

I have learned to be glad of crumbs. They are not small when they come from his table.

Look closely

What does the woman ask for? How does she use the image of the table and the crumbs, and what does she find when she gets home?

Reflect

What helps me hold on to Jesus when I do not understand the answer?

Together

How can we bring before God people and families waiting for help, and make room for honest questions?

Live it out

Pray specifically for a child or a family in need. Contact them and ask how you can support them.

Enter the story

Someone brings to Jesus a man who has difficulty hearing and speaking. See how personally Jesus meets him, and how he takes him away from the crowd.

Commentary

Other people bring the man forward. He cannot hear, and he speaks with great difficulty. He cannot ask for help himself, at least not in a way anyone understands. So someone asks on his behalf. I am always glad when I read about friends like this in the Gospels. Those who bring another person forward when he cannot manage it himself.

Jesus takes him away from the crowd. I think that must have been a relief. Someone who cannot hear often stands in the midst of a noise he cannot interpret, surrounded by moving mouths and faces waiting for an answer. Now there are just the two of them.

And then Jesus speaks to him in the language the man can understand. Not with words, but with hands. Fingers in his ears. Saliva on his tongue. A glance up towards heaven. It is almost too intimate, almost too physical. But that is how you speak to someone who cannot hear. You show. You touch.

Then we read that Jesus sighed. I have thought a great deal about that sigh. It is not a word, and it is not a prayer with content. It is simply a breath that carries more than words can carry. I know it from my own prayers, those times when I do not know what to say. It does me good that Jesus sighed too. That he did not stand above distress and pain, but entered into it.

Ephphatha. Be opened. One of the few Aramaic words Mark has preserved. It was so powerful that it was used at baptisms for centuries afterwards. I read it not only as a word to the ears and tongue, but to the whole person. Be opened. To sound, to others, to God.

I can become deaf in other ways myself. I can stop hearing, not because my ears fail, but because I have heard the same thing for so long that I no longer listen. And when you do not hear, your speech becomes unclear too. The two are connected. Someone who does not receive eventually has little to say.

The people are strictly told not to tell anyone. But they cannot keep quiet. They say that he has done everything well.

It is a simple sentence, and I believe it is true. Not because everything has gone as I wanted, but because he has taken me aside, touched me, sighed with me and said: Be opened.

Look closely

Who asks for help on the man's behalf? What does Jesus do before he says Ephphatha, and what happens to the man?

Reflect

Where have I stopped listening? What does it mean to be open to God and to others?

Together

How can we make our fellowship a place where people are heard and receive help in a way they can accept?

Live it out

Listen to someone without rushing to answer. Adapt the conversation so that the person has room to express themselves.

Enter the story

Jesus sees more than the people sitting in front of him; he thinks about their journey home as well. Read this story alongside Mark 6:30–44.

Commentary

This time it is Jesus who raises the matter. The people have been with him for three days and have nothing to eat. Some have come a long way. If he sends them home hungry, they may collapse on the road.

I linger over that. He thinks about the journey home. Not only about what happens while they sit and listen, but about what happens afterwards, when they walk alone and their strength runs out. I have known that hunger myself, after meetings and gatherings where I received much but went home empty.

The disciples ask how anyone can provide bread here in the wilderness. It almost makes me smile. They have been part of this before. But I understand them. It is not easy to count on a miracle that has happened only once.

Seven loaves and a few small fish. Jesus gives thanks and breaks the bread and gives it to the disciples, who distribute it. The people eat and are satisfied, and there is some left over.

There is nothing grand about it. People sit on the ground, some distribute food, others eat. Then they are sent home, satisfied, before the journey becomes too long.

Look closely

What reason does Jesus give for wanting to feed the people? What is similar and different in the two miracles of the bread?

Reflect

Do I see the needs that remain after a meeting or a conversation is over?

Together

How can we follow up with care for people after a gathering as well?

Live it out

Contact someone after a meeting or a conversation and ask how they are doing. Give specific help if you can.

Enter the story

The Pharisees come to put Jesus to the test. Notice the difference between this encounter and his encounters with people asking for help.

Commentary

Immediately afterwards, the Pharisees come and demand a sign from heaven. They have not come for help. They have come to test him.

Jesus sighs deeply in his spirit. It is the same word as with the deaf man, but now it is a different sigh. There it was compassion. Here it is sorrow over a faith that refuses to believe.

I recognise myself in the Pharisees more than I like. I have asked for signs. Not with hostility, but with a quiet demand: Show me that you are there, and then I will believe. And I have forgotten how much I have already been allowed to see.

Jesus says no. This generation will receive no sign. I do not think this is a barrier, but a protection. A sign that forced belief would leave no room for trust. Love that cannot choose is not love.

Then we read that he left them, got into the boat and crossed to the other side. I read that sentence with a certain unease. It is not a threat. But it is a reminder that someone who only demands can be left standing on the shore.

Look closely

Why do the Pharisees ask for a sign? How does Jesus respond, and what does he do afterwards?

Reflect

What distinguishes coming honestly with my distress from demanding that God fulfil my conditions before I will believe?

Together

How can we make room for questions and at the same time help each other to trust?

Live it out

Thank God for some of the care you have already seen from him. Bring your questions without making the answer a condition for following him.

Enter the story

Jesus warns against the yeast of the Pharisees and Herod. The disciples are thinking about the missing bread. Read all his questions before you answer.

Commentary

The disciples have forgotten to bring bread. They have only one loaf in the boat. Jesus warns them against the yeast of the Pharisees and Herod, and they immediately begin talking among themselves about having no bread.

It is almost comical. He is speaking about something profound, and they are thinking about their packed lunch.

But I do not read it with a sense of superiority. I am like that too. In the midst of what God is trying to say, I am preoccupied with what I lack. Worry takes up all the space.

Then come the questions, one after another. Do you still not understand? Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear? Do you not remember? And they answer correctly. Twelve baskets. Seven baskets. They remember the numbers. But they have not seen who was behind it.

It is possible to know everything about Jesus and still not see him. I have read these stories all my life. I know the numbers and the details. The question is whether I see.

I have often thought about that one loaf in the boat. Perhaps it is just a detail. But I cannot help thinking that they had more with them than they realised. The one who breaks the bread was sitting beside them.

The passage ends with a question that receives no answer: Do you still not understand? I leave it like that. It is a question I must answer myself, day after day.

Look closely

What does Jesus ask them to remember from the two miracles of the bread? Why are the numbers of baskets not the whole answer to his question?

Reflect

What worry takes up so much space that I do not hear what Jesus is saying?

Together

What have we seen of God's care that can help us understand and trust today?

Live it out

Return to a specific memory of God's help. Ask what it teaches you about him, and bring it into your prayer today.

Enter the story

Jesus takes the blind man by the hand and leads him out of the village. Read the two stages of the healing, and notice the honest answer the man gives.

Commentary

Again, someone brings a man to Jesus. This time he is blind. And again Jesus takes him away, out of the village. We read that he took the blind man by the hand and led him. I picture it: two men walking together along a road, one sure-footed, the other holding his hand firmly.

Outside the village, Jesus spits on his eyes and lays his hands on him. Then he asks: Do you see anything?

I have always been glad of that question. Jesus asks. He does not assume that everything is all right. And the man answers honestly: I see people, but they look like trees walking around.

This is the only time in the Gospels that a miracle happens in two stages. It moves me. For that is often how it has been for me too. I have seen something, but not clearly. I have understood something about God, but indistinctly, with outlines that blur together. It is no longer blindness, but it is not full sight either.

Jesus lays his hands on his eyes once more. And now he sees everything clearly, far and near.

I think Jesus did not become impatient with his partial sight. He simply touched him again. Perhaps that is how he works with us. Not one touch that resolves everything, but several, through a long life, until one day we see clearly.

Then the man is sent home. Not into the village. Home.

Look closely

What does Jesus ask after the first touch? How does the man answer, and what does Jesus do next?

Reflect

What do I still see only dimly? Can I be honest about what I have not understood?

Together

How can we give each other time to grow in faith and understanding?

Live it out

Read a passage you struggle with once more. Share what you see and what you do not see with someone you trust.

Enter the story

On the road, Jesus first asks what people say about him, and then what the disciples themselves say. Pause at both questions.

Commentary

They are travelling north, far from Galilee, among the villages around Caesarea Philippi. And on the road Jesus asks: Who do people say I am?

It is an easy question. The disciples can answer at once. Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, others one of the prophets. They have heard the talk. They know what people think.

I can answer that question easily too. I have read what theologians and writers have said about Jesus for two thousand years. I can report opinions, compare and assess them.

But then comes the second question. But you, who do you say I am?

Here no one can answer for another. It is no longer a question of knowledge. It is a question of trust and belonging.

Peter answers: You are the Messiah. That is right. But the next verses show that he does not yet know what it costs. He has said the right word, but he has not seen the whole road it leads to. I am glad of that. It means you can speak the truth before you understand it, and then be allowed to grow into it.

Jesus asks them not to tell anyone. Perhaps because the word Messiah was so full of false expectations. Perhaps because it had to be filled with something new before it could be spoken aloud.

I have answered this question many times in my life, and I think it has to be answered afresh in every season, from wherever you stand. Not with new words, but with a life that carries the same words a little deeper.

Look closely

What do the disciples answer to the first question, and what does Peter answer to the second? What does Jesus ask them to do at the end?

Reflect

Who do I say Jesus is? How is my answer expressed in the life I live?

Together

Share in your own words who Jesus is to you, and what it means to follow him.

Live it out

Write a short, personal answer to Jesus' question. Choose an action that can express that trust this week.