Desperate Faith vs. Dignified Unbelief Text: Matthew 20:29-34
Introduction: The Right Kind of Desperation
We live in an age that prizes decorum, quiet respectability, and a certain kind of dignified reserve. This is especially true when it comes to religion. Our modern sensibilities prefer a faith that is neat, tidy, and above all, quiet. We want a God who can be managed, who fits comfortably into our schedules, and who doesn't cause a scene. But the God of the Bible is not a tame God, and the kind of faith He responds to is rarely polite. It is often loud, desperate, and unashamed.
As Jesus makes His final journey to Jerusalem, on the very precipice of His passion, we are given a stark contrast between two kinds of people. On the one hand, we have the crowd. The crowd is a fascinating entity in the Gospels. They are often present, sometimes amazed, but rarely committed. They follow Jesus for the spectacle, for the loaves and fishes, for the excitement. They are the religious consumers of their day. And their instinct, when confronted with messy, desperate faith, is to manage it, to quiet it down, to tell it to get back in line. "Shhh. Don't make a scene. The Master is busy."
On the other hand, we have two blind men. They are on the margins of society, sitting by the road, their lives defined by what they lack. They are not respectable. They are beggars. They have nothing to offer, no dignity to maintain, and no reputation to protect. And when they hear that Jesus, the Son of David, is passing by, they refuse to be quiet. Their faith is not respectable; it is raw, vocal, and utterly desperate. And it is this kind of faith, and this kind alone, that stops the King of the universe in His tracks.
This passage is a profound lesson for us. It teaches us about the nature of true faith, the character of our King, and the blindness that truly matters. We are all, in some sense, sitting by the side of the road. The question is whether we are part of the shushing crowd, content in our self-imposed darkness, or whether we are numbered with the desperate beggars, willing to cry out for mercy, no matter who tells us to be quiet.
The Text
And as they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed Him. And behold, two blind men sitting by the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” But the crowd sternly told them to be quiet, but they cried out all the more, saying, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” And Jesus stopped and called them, and said, “What do you want Me to do for you?” They said to Him, “Lord, that our eyes be opened.” And moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes; and immediately they regained their sight and followed Him.
(Matthew 20:29-34 LSB)
An Inconvenient Cry (v. 29-31)
We begin with the setting and the initial confrontation:
"And as they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed Him. And behold, two blind men sitting by the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, 'Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!' But the crowd sternly told them to be quiet, but they cried out all the more, saying, 'Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!'" (Matthew 20:29-31)
Jesus is on His way to the cross. A large crowd is with Him, but their following is shallow. They are spectators on the way to the big event in Jerusalem. And on the side of this road, emblematic of their station in life, are two blind men. They are outsiders. They cannot see the parade, but they can hear. And what they hear is that Jesus is passing by. This is their one opportunity. The King is in their vicinity.
Their cry is packed with theological dynamite. First, they cry for "mercy." This is not the cry of someone demanding their due. It is the plea of a sinner who knows he deserves nothing. It is the foundational posture of all true faith. We do not come to God with a list of our accomplishments; we come with an empty hand and a plea for mercy.
Second, they call Him "Lord" and "Son of David." This is crucial. "Lord" acknowledges His sovereignty and authority. But "Son of David" is a direct Messianic title. While the religious elites were debating His credentials and plotting His death, these blind beggars on the side of the road saw with the eyes of faith what the Pharisees, with their perfect vision, could not. They recognized Jesus as the long-awaited King, the fulfillment of God's covenant promise to David. This is a stunning confession of faith. Physical blindness is no barrier to spiritual sight, just as physical sight is no guarantee against spiritual blindness.
The crowd's reaction is telling. They "sternly told them to be quiet." Why? Perhaps they found it embarrassing. It was unseemly. It was disruptive to the solemn procession. This is the spirit of dead religion. It is more concerned with outward appearances and maintaining order than with desperate souls meeting a merciful Savior. The crowd represents the world's wisdom, which always seeks to silence the cry of faith. "Don't be a fanatic. Don't take it so seriously. Be reasonable."
But notice the response of the blind men. "They cried out all the more." Opposition did not silence their faith; it amplified it. This is the nature of genuine, Spirit-given desperation. It cannot be managed or shushed. When you truly know you are blind and that the only eye doctor in the universe is walking past, you do not let the opinions of the crowd deter you. You shout louder. Their persistence was not rudeness; it was the evidence of their faith.
The King's Question (v. 32-33)
The desperate cry of faith accomplishes what the passive following of the crowd could not. It stops Jesus.
"And Jesus stopped and called them, and said, 'What do you want Me to do for you?' They said to Him, 'Lord, that our eyes be opened.'" (Matthew 20:32-33 LSB)
The Creator of heaven and earth, on His way to redeem the world, halts His steps for two roadside beggars. This is our God. He is never too busy for the cry of the desperate. He stops for them and calls for them. The very crowd that tried to silence them now has to make way for them.
Jesus then asks a question that seems, on the surface, to have an obvious answer: "What do you want Me to do for you?" Of course they want to see. But the question is not for Jesus's benefit; it is for theirs. He wants them to articulate their faith. He wants them to put their specific, concrete request before Him. This is a vital principle in prayer. God invites us to bring our specific needs to Him. Vague, general prayers often reflect a vague and general faith. Jesus invites them to name their desire, to focus their faith on a particular outcome.
Their answer is simple, direct, and profound: "Lord, that our eyes be opened." They don't ask for money. They don't ask for a better spot to beg. They go right to the root of their problem. They want to see. This is the cry of every sinner who has been awakened by the Holy Spirit. The fundamental need of the fallen human heart is not for better circumstances, but for new eyes. We are born blind to the glory of God, blind to our own sin, and blind to the beauty of Christ. The first and most necessary prayer is, "Lord, open my eyes."
Compassion, Touch, and True Discipleship (v. 34)
The climax of the story reveals the heart of the King and the result of true healing.
"And moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes; and immediately they regained their sight and followed Him." (Matthew 20:34 LSB)
Here we see the motivation of Jesus: He was "moved with compassion." The Greek word here, splagchnizomai, refers to a deep, gut-level feeling. This is not a detached, clinical pity. This is the holy heart of God moved by the misery of His creatures. Our salvation is not just a matter of divine accounting; it is born out of the profound compassion of God for us in our wretched state.
And with that compassion comes the touch of the Master. He could have healed them with a word from a distance, but He touches them. This is the incarnate God. He is not afraid of our mess, our brokenness, our blindness. He draws near and makes contact. In a world where these men were likely considered unclean and untouchable, the touch of the King brought not just healing, but dignity and acceptance.
The result is immediate and total. "Immediately they regained their sight." When God acts, He acts decisively. The light floods in. The darkness is gone. This is a picture of regeneration. It is an instantaneous, miraculous work of God. One moment we are blind, and the next, we see.
But the story does not end with their healing. It ends with their response: "and followed Him." This is the non-negotiable evidence of a true miracle of grace. They did not receive their sight and then go back to their old lives. They did not use their new eyes to simply pursue their own ambitions. Their first act with their new sight was to fix their gaze on Jesus and follow Him. They left the roadside behind and joined the procession, not as mere spectators in the crowd, but as true disciples. True healing always leads to true discipleship. If you claim to have had your eyes opened by Christ, the proof is that you are following Him.
Conclusion: Are You in the Crowd or on the Roadside?
This account forces a question upon every one of us. Where are we in this story? Are we part of the respectable crowd? Following Jesus at a safe distance, impressed by His teaching, but quick to silence any display of "excessive" faith? Are we content with our own spiritual sight, unaware of the deep cataracts of pride and self-sufficiency that blind us? The Pharisees were the epitome of the crowd, they could see perfectly, but they were spiritually stone-blind.
Or are we on the roadside with the blind men? Do we recognize our desperate condition? Do we know that, apart from a sovereign act of mercy from Jesus Christ, we are utterly blind, lost, and without hope? A man who knows he is blind does not care about looking foolish. A man dying of thirst does not politely ask for water; he cries out for it. The beginning of salvation is to recognize our own spiritual bankruptcy.
The good news is that the Son of David is passing by today. He is present in the preaching of His Word. And He still stops for those who cry out to Him in desperate faith. The world, and even the respectable religious crowd, may tell you to be quiet. They will tell you your faith is too loud, too simple, too dogmatic. They will tell you to tone it down.
But the lesson from the road to Jericho is clear: cry out all the more. "Lord, have mercy on me, Son of David!" Acknowledge His kingship. Plead for His mercy. Ask Him to do the one thing you cannot do for yourself: "Lord, that my eyes be opened." He is moved with compassion. He will touch you. And when He does, you will see. And when you see, you will do the only sane thing a healed man can do: you will follow Him.