You are walking through a narrow, winding slot canyon in the western Galilee; the walls of the canyon rise sharply upward on either side of you. There is just enough room for you and Jesus to walk through shoulder to shoulder. You have been walking along and talking. You are asking Him a particular question. “What exactly is repentance?” you ask of Him.
He stops in the pathway; faces toward you; takes you by both shoulders; manually turns your body in the opposite direction, back from whence you’ve just come. “Now stay there for a moment,” He says to you.
Then He takes a few steps westward, walking away. (You don’t see Him going: you are obeying His command to stay put upon that spot.)
Then He says, “Turn. Follow Me.”
He is smiling as you approach Him. “That,” He says, “was the whole thing.”
"Do not confound work and fruit. There may be a good deal of work for Christ that is not the fruit of the heavenly Vine. Do not seek for work only. Oh! study this question of fruit-bearing. It means the very life and the very power and the very spirit and the very love within the heart of the Son of God—it means the heavenly Vine Himself coming into your heart and mine.
"You know there are different sorts of grapes, each with a different name, and every vine provides exactly that peculiar aroma and juice which gives the grape its particular flavor and taste. Just so, there is in the heart of Christ Jesus a life, and a love, and a Spirit, and a blessing, and a power for men, that are entirely heavenly and divine, and that will come down into our hearts. Stand in close connection with the heavenly Vine and say:
"Lord Jesus, nothing less than the sap that flows through Thyself, nothing less than the Spirit of Thy divine life is what we ask. Lord Jesus, I pray Thee let Thy Spirit flow through me in all my work for Thee.
"I tell you again that the sap of the heavenly Vine is nothing but the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the life of the heavenly Vine, and what you must get from Christ is nothing less than a strong inflow of the Holy Spirit. You need it exceedingly, and you want nothing more than that. Remember that."
Andrew Murray, Absolute Surrender
He heals a blind man
THEN, AS HE WAS APPROACHING Jericho, it happened that there was a blind man sitting by the roadside, begging. He heard the crowd passing and enquired what it was all about. And they told him, “Jesus the man from Nazareth is going past you.” So he shouted out, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!”
Those who were in front tried to hush his cries. But that made him call out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me!”
So Jesus stood quite still and ordered the man to be brought to him. And when he was quite close, he said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” “Lord, make me see,” he cried.
“You can see! Your faith has cured you,” returned Jesus. And his sight was restored at once, and he followed Jesus, praising God. All the people who saw it thanked God too.
THEY ARE AN INTERESTING SIGHT—this wild-eyed man, gazing at everything with frenzied, half-crazed countenance; and this other: calm, smiling, delighted—as they walk onward toward the city of Jericho. The former will sprint ahead, and then come back to the latter.
“What are those distant upward places?” he asks.
“Hills,” says the other.
“And what is their color called?”
“Brown. Or, perhaps…sandy-brown.”
The wild-eyed man has hit upon a pattern, he realizes.
He looks up. “And this, I imagine, is the ‘sky’ I’ve heard so much about?”
The other nods.
“And what do you call this color I see?”
“And those soft-looking things that move across its blue and stain the ground with blackness?”
Then he begins, without explanation, to point to different trees, plants and bushes. The other man, knowing his meaning, simply lists the name of each toward which he points: “Palm… Almond… Pine… Olive… Date… Papyrus reeds…”
They are now arriving at the outside edge of Jericho.
A street or two in, they happen upon a shop of fineries. The quiet man escorts the other inside; into the cool, dark interior.
The two men stand and look into a bronze mirror, housed within a gaudy gilded frame. There they are, reflected: the wild-eyed man and the smiling other.
“And, you see,” says the latter, “that’s you.”