We had the privilege of going to Sea World with some of our family recently. A wonderful opportunity to appreciate our aquatic friends we don’t often think about or ever see.
I love sea lions, seals, and walruses. There’s something about these slick, flipper-driven animals that fascinates me. They’re so awkward moving on land, but in the water they glide with a beauty and swiftness that captivates my imagination.
They also have a demanding nature. One that has been exacerbated by people.
There was the opportunity to feed the seals and sea lions. There were signs that warned that feeding needed to be done quickly because birds had learned that, with close observation, they’d snatch the fish before the pinniped caught it.
Our flippered friends had learned that barking loudly to catch people’s attention helped urge the human feeders to do what they did quickly.
It had been an incredibly hot day, so we stopped for ice cream afterward. Two-year-old Kolly discovered that making her requests knows–loudly–encouraged her dad to offer her ice cream.

People can’t read our minds. To help others become aware of our needs, we need to be more vocal about what those needs are. Not demanding nor acting entitled, but sharing honestly.
I’ve not been good at that. I don’t want to come across as needy to other people, so often I hope others will catch hints I drop or will ask specifically if there’s something that would help. I don’t have Kolly’s persistence or a seal’s demanding nature.
I do have needs. We all do. How we deal with those needs, helping others become aware of what they are, is a two-way street. We long for people to respect what we need and be gracious in helping us achieve those needs.
Jesus had been teaching the crowds and had arrived at Jericho, just north of the Dead Sea. As He and His men were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus, begging alongside the road heard it was Jesus, and he began yelling to get Jesus’ attention. People around him were frustrated and told him to be quiet. Jesus heard Bartimaeus yelling and asked to see him. The blind man came to Him.
Jesus, with gentle compassion, addressed him.
“‘What do you want Me to do for you?’ Jesus asked.”
Wasn’t it obvious? The man couldn’t see. But Jesus asked what this man understood his needs to be.
“‘My Rabbi,’ the blind man said, ‘I want to see!’” He didn’t have to be asked twice. He knew what his heart longed for.
“And Jesus said to him, ‘Go, for your faith has healed you.’ Instantly the man could see, and he followed Jesus down the road.” Mark 10:51-52.
There are so many things we want in life, but thinking through what we truly need takes consideration of the bigger picture. Bartimaeus had been blind his whole life; he had no question about what his greatest need was.
We need to see that our needs go beyond the immediate, the small things in front of us, the desires that often fill our minds. Our needs are the long game, what will matter to us for longer than a meal or a belonging or a valuable trinket.
And what we need, Jesus offers us. Freely. Hope. Love. Forgiveness.
We need Jesus to help us see what life is really about. This world isn’t home; it’s a brief journey in time that allows us to learn to be who we were made to be. To live with hope and joy despite the heaviness of a broken world.
Our seal friends wanted fish; Kolly wanted ice cream. Our needs are so much deeper, more layered, than that. We need a plan that will make life work in the long haul.
Have you considered what you really need?

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