Theme: Trust Jesus to lead you, even when you cannot see.
We’re looking at Mark chapter 7, beginning in verse 31 — and we’ll actually read through chapter 8, verse 26. Kids, I want you to pay attention to two things in this passage. First, a bit of Greek. Two times Jesus spits in this passage. The Greek word for spit is ptuo. I’m not even joking — ptuo. Kids, can you say ptuo? Okay, great, now you know Greek! So pay attention to the two times Jesus spits and think about why. It seems strange, doesn’t it?
Second thing: you’ve probably heard some of these miracles before. So as you listen, think — what’s different here? Let’s keep those two things in mind as we read God’s Word together.
After reading the passage, we pray: “Father in heaven, as we read your holy Word, send your Spirit to teach us, that by faith and patience we might inherit the everlasting promises in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.”
Now, sermon titles can be hard. You wonder sometimes, “Does anyone even read the title?” Maybe it should be something catchy or flashy — or maybe something quoted straight from the text, which is usually the safe route. The title I almost went with today was: “When Jesus Facepalms.” You know what a facepalm is — that moment when you’re exasperated, like Captain Picard rubbing his forehead. And that’s a bit of the flavor here — Jesus sighing. Twice. And for two different reasons.
So yes, I had “When Jesus Facepalms.” But I also thought about calling it “The Spitting Image.” Because there’s a lot of spitting going on here! What’s the deal with that? Why is Jesus spitting and touching people’s tongues and eyes? Clearly, COVID hadn’t happened yet. But there’s something deeper going on. It all connects to that question Jesus asks his disciples in the boat: “Do you not yet understand?”
There are miracles in this passage, but they serve a larger purpose — leading the disciples toward understanding. Not just physical sight, but spiritual sight. Jesus is opening eyes to see him for who he is, and through that, opening hearts to faith.
We’ll see that the problem in this passage — and in the church today — is not the lack of information or miracles, but the lack of understanding. “Having eyes, do you not see? Having ears, do you not hear?” The heart must be opened by grace. And that’s exactly what Jesus does.
The passage centers on a confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees. They come to him seeking a sign from heaven to test him. But it’s not an honest investigation — it’s an interrogation. They’re not curious; they’re looking for grounds to condemn him.
Jesus has already given plenty of signs, hasn’t he? Healing the sick, feeding thousands, casting out demons. But they demand a sign “from heaven” — something spectacular and undeniable. They want God to open the heavens and say, “This is my Son.” And yet, that has already happened! God has spoken at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”
The problem isn’t the lack of signs; it’s the hardness of heart. They ask the right thing in the wrong way. And Jesus sighs deeply and says, “No sign will be given to this generation.”
In Matthew’s account, he adds, “Except the sign of Jonah.” Jonah was three days in the belly of the fish; the Son of Man will be three days in the grave. The resurrection will be the only sign they get — and even then, many still won’t believe. Even if someone rises from the dead, some hearts remain hardened. That’s the blindness of unbelief.
After this confrontation, Jesus and the disciples get back in the boat. He warns them: “Watch out. Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod.”
The disciples, of course, think he’s talking about bread — because they forgot to bring any. But Jesus isn’t worried about breakfast. He’s warning them against a spiritual infection. Leaven spreads quietly and invisibly through the dough — and false teaching spreads the same way. The “leaven” of the Pharisees and of Herod represents two sides of the same problem: blindness to God’s Word and hardness to his grace. Legalism on one side, libertinism on the other — both reject Jesus as Lord.
And yet, the disciples are arguing about bread. Jesus says, “Do you not yet perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened?” They’ve seen him feed thousands twice over — once for the Jews, once for the Gentiles — and they still worry about bread in the boat.
We can be the same way. We know Jesus provides. We’ve seen it in our lives, in our church, in his Word — and yet we still worry, still doubt. The problem isn’t the lack of bread, but the lack of faith. Jesus says, “Having eyes, do you not see? Having ears, do you not hear?”
The disciples had seen Jesus heal, teach, feed, and calm storms. They’d seen his power and compassion firsthand. They should have known who he was and trusted him. But they didn’t understand. Why? Because, as Scripture says, sin blinds our eyes and deafens our ears. Unless God opens them, we can’t truly perceive his truth.
Paul says that “the god of this world” blinds the minds of unbelievers. Even the disciples, though they followed Jesus, still wrestled with dullness of heart. They needed Jesus himself to open their eyes. And that’s exactly what he does — patiently, gently, persistently.
Notice that Jesus doesn’t abandon them. He doesn’t walk away and say, “That’s it, I’m done.” He stays with them. He teaches, rebukes, and leads them to understanding — and eventually, faith. He’s patient with their blindness, just as he’s patient with ours.
The feeding of the 4,000 shows Jesus’ deep compassion. He looks at the crowd and says, “I have compassion on the people.” His heart goes out to them because they’ve been with him for days with nothing to eat. He not only teaches, but he feeds — both body and soul.
Jesus doesn’t stand apart from our suffering — he enters into it. Think about the way he heals: by touch, by spit, by physical presence. It’s earthy, even messy. But that’s the point — the eternal Son of God took on a human body. The Creator became creature to redeem us from the inside out. He sighed at the unbelief of the Pharisees; he sighed again as he healed, entering into our brokenness. And on the cross, he sighed one last time as he gave up his spirit for us.
In the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida, Jesus takes him by the hand and leads him out of the village. Don’t miss that — Jesus leads him. He guides him personally. The man can’t see, but he trusts the one holding his hand.
That’s faith. We walk by faith, not by sight. Jesus leads us when we cannot see the way forward. Even when we don’t understand what he’s doing, we can trust that he’s leading us in love, step by step. He is patient with our slowness and our confusion. He doesn’t rush us; he walks with us.
When Jesus heals the deaf and mute man earlier in this section, the man’s tongue is loosed, and he begins to speak plainly. That’s what Jesus does — he gives us a voice to praise him. Those who once were silent in sin now sing with joy, “He has done all things well.”
The people didn’t yet understand everything, but they saw enough to know this: Jesus does all things well. And one day, when our eyes are fully opened, we’ll see and say the same — not by faith alone, but by sight. Until then, we trust the Savior who leads us patiently and loves us completely.
There’s a day coming when faith will give way to sight — when there will be no more need to believe, because we will see him face to face. Paul says, “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.” On that day, there will be no more blindness, no more doubt, no more sighing. Only joy, only love, only the clear sight of Christ.
Until that day, we walk by faith. We trust Jesus to lead us, even when we cannot see. We take his hand, we listen to his Word, and we follow him all the way home.
Amen.
