It’s unique among Jesus’ healings, but I’m wondering this morning if it shouldn’t be considered normative.

Jesus comes to the village of Bethsaida where He encounters a blind guy begging Jesus to “touch him” (Mark 8:22). And touch him Jesus did; but in a way that is unlike how Jesus had touched others. This was a two-step miracle.

. . . and when [Jesus] had spit on his eyes and laid His hands on him, He asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see people, but they look like trees, walking.” Then Jesus laid His hands on his eyes again; and He opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.

(Mark 8:23b-25 ESV)

This guy would have sung that well-known hymn a bit differently than most:

       Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
       That saved a wretch like me
       I once was lost, but now I’m found
       Was blind . . . but then I kind of saw . . . but now I see.

And as I chew on it, isn’t that my song too? Even though my eyes have been open by Jesus’ gracious touch, even though my spiritual sight has been restored, and even though I think I see “everything clearly”, I wonder how much I’m still seeing with less-than-clear, skewed eyesight. How much of what I see I’m really seeing as “trees walking.”

I know this is the case because, just a couple of days ago in my daily readings, I was reminded my vision is less than 20/20.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

(1Corinthians 13:12 ESV)

While I should stand firm and with conviction concerning what the Spirit has given me eyes to see, hears to hear, and a heart to receive, thinking about this “two-step” guy makes me think there’s also a place for humility and teachableness. A recognition that while my eyes are open, they are not yet fully open. An awareness that though my sight has been restored, it’s not fully restored. A humbleness born of knowing that while I might think I see everything clearly, in fact I still see in a mirror dimly.

Yeah, I’m just a two-step miracle still waiting for the next step. Actually, for this remedial student, I’m probably a multi-step miracle — a more-steps-than-I-care-to-admit — miracle.

But I’m Jesus’ miracle.

A trophy of His grace.

A work in progress for His glory.

Amen?