28 AUGUST 2026
There are some wounds that are visible. And then there are the ones that nobody can see. Mark 7 tells us about a man who was deaf and could barely speak. People brought him to Jesus and begged Jesus to place His hand on him.
And Jesus does something unexpected. He takes the man away from the crowd. Away from the noise. Away from the people watching. Away from the opinions. Away from the eyes that had been staring at him. Just Jesus and this man.
There is something deeply beautiful about that. Because sometimes Jesus does His most personal work away from the crowd. Jesus takes him aside.
The crowd could have watched. They could have waited for the miracle. They could have wanted to see what Jesus would do. But Jesus wasn't performing for them. He was ministering to a person. A person who couldn't hear. A person who struggled to communicate. A person who probably knew what it felt like to be misunderstood. And Jesus meets him exactly where he is.
He doesn't shame him for what he cannot do. He doesn't tell him to try harder. He doesn't demand that he become different before coming closer. He simply brings him near. Sometimes we forget that Jesus doesn't just care about the problem. He cares about the person carrying it.
And then Jesus touches him.
He puts His fingers in the man's ears. He spits and touches the man's tongue. Then Jesus looks toward heaven and sighs. He sighs. That small detail can easily be missed. But imagine it. Jesus isn't distant from this man's suffering. He isn't cold toward his pain. He enters into the moment. He feels the weight of what has been broken.
And then He says: “Ephphatha!” Which means, “Be opened.” And immediately, the man's ears were opened. His tongue was released. And he began to speak plainly. The very places that had been closed were opened by Jesus.
What has become closed inside you?
Maybe your ears aren't physically closed. But perhaps you've stopped hearing God. You pray, but everything feels quiet. You read Scripture, but the words don't seem to reach you the way they once did. You worship, but your heart feels somewhere else.
Maybe your heart has become closed because you've been disappointed too many times. Maybe you've stopped expecting good things because disappointment became easier to handle than hope. Maybe you've stopped speaking because you've learned that sometimes silence feels safer. And perhaps Jesus is still saying: “Be opened.”
Not because He is angry with you. But because He wants to restore something in you that life has slowly shut down. Notice what Jesus doesn't do.
He doesn't heal the man from a distance. He doesn't simply speak a command from across the crowd. He comes close. He touches him. He takes him aside. He meets him personally.
Because Jesus is not afraid of the places in us that feel broken. He is not uncomfortable with our wounds. He isn't repelled by the parts of our story that we wish were different. He comes closer. Sometimes we spend years hiding the parts of ourselves that hurt. We become good at appearing okay.
We learn how to smile. How to function. How to say, “I'm fine.” How to keep moving. But Jesus doesn't only want the version of you that everyone else gets to see. He wants to meet you in the places you have stopped letting anyone enter.
And then something changes.
The man's ears open. His tongue is released. And suddenly, he can hear. He can speak. Think about the first things he might have heard. The voices around him. The sounds he had missed. And perhaps most importantly, the voice of Jesus.
The One who had come close enough to touch him. Sometimes healing isn't just about getting something back. Sometimes it's about finally being able to hear what you couldn't hear before. The voice that says: You are not forgotten. You are not too broken. You are not beyond restoration. I am here.
Maybe Jesus is doing a quieter miracle in you.
Not every miracle looks dramatic. Some miracles happen slowly. A heart that becomes soft again. A person who learns to trust again. A prayer that returns after months of silence. A voice that finally speaks about something it has carried for years. A person who finally allows themselves to be loved. A soul that begins to hear God again.
Nobody may applaud those miracles. Nobody may even notice them. But Jesus does. Because He notices what happens in the places nobody else sees. And there is one more thing.
After healing the man, Jesus tells the crowd not to tell anyone. That is strange to us. We often think miracles should be announced. Posted. Shared. Celebrated. But Jesus wasn't interested in spectacle. He was interested in restoration. The miracle didn't need an audience to make it real.
The man didn't need thousands of people to validate what Jesus had done. Jesus knew. And sometimes that is enough. You don't have to explain every transformation God is doing in you. You don't have to convince everyone that you've changed. You don't have to prove that your healing is real.
Some things can simply remain between you and Jesus for a while. Let Him work. Let Him restore. Let Him open what has been closed. Because maybe the deepest miracle isn't what happens around you.
Maybe it's what happens inside you. The situation may not immediately change. The people around you may remain the same. The circumstances may still be complicated. But something inside you begins to open. You begin hearing God again. You begin speaking again. You begin hoping again. You begin believing again. And suddenly, you realize:
Jesus didn't just change your circumstances. He changed your capacity to experience them. The man came to Jesus unable to hear and struggling to speak. He left able to hear and able to speak. And perhaps that is the invitation for us too. To bring Jesus the places where we've gone numb. The places where we've stopped listening. The places where we've stopped speaking.
The places where disappointment has closed us. The places where fear has silenced us. And let Him come close. Let Him touch what we have hidden. Let Him speak into what has gone quiet. Because Jesus still knows how to open what has been closed. And sometimes His most powerful words over our lives are still the simplest:
“Be opened.”
Open your heart again. Open your ears again. Open yourself to hope again. Because the same Jesus who saw one forgotten man in the middle of a crowd still sees you. And He is not asking you to become whole before you come to Him. Come as you are. Let Him come close. And let Him open you again.