There’s a strange healing tucked into Mark 8.

A blind man is brought to Jesus, and Jesus puts His hands on him and asks, “Do you see anything?”

The man looks up and says, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

He can see, but not clearly.

So Jesus puts His hands on the man’s eyes again. This time, his sight is completely restored. He sees everything clearly.

It’s the only healing in the Gospels that happens in two stages. And the more I think about it, I don’t think Mark put it here by accident, because immediately after this, Peter has his own moment of partial sight.

Jesus asks His disciples, “Who do you say I am?”

Peter answers: “You are the Messiah.”

He sees. But does he see clearly?

Because Jesus immediately begins explaining what it means for Him to be the Messiah—that He will suffer, be rejected, be killed, and rise again. And Peter pulls Him aside and rebukes Him.

Peter can see who Jesus is, but his understanding of what that means is still blurry. He has the right Messiah and the wrong expectations.

People walking around like trees.

And honestly, I think a lot of following Jesus happens right there. We see Him. We believe Him. We know He is Lord. And we still have human desires.

We still have ideas about what “good” should look like. We still think we know how the story should go. We still get fixated on the details right in front of us and struggle to understand how they could possibly fit into what God is doing.

There are things in my own life right now that I cannot see clearly. I would love to know what happens next. I would love a detailed itinerary from God explaining exactly how the next few days, months, and years are going to unfold.

That does not appear to be on offer.

Instead, I keep coming back to something much simpler: Jesus, I see You.

The circumstances may be blurry, but You are not. I know You are good. I know You are faithful. I know You are who You say You are. And maybe I don’t need to see the whole picture in order to take the next step toward You.

Because there’s another detail in this healing I keep coming back to. Before the man could see, Jesus took him by the hand and led him out of the village.

He couldn’t see where Jesus was taking him, but he let Jesus lead him anyway.

Maybe learning to see Jesus clearly is more like a 30,000-part healing for the rest of us—a lifetime of tiny adjustments. I look at Jesus, and He corrects my vision. What He says is important becomes a little more important to me. Something I was desperately trying to control becomes something I can surrender. My definition of “good” shifts a little closer to His. I learn to love a little more like He loves.

And then tomorrow, I look again.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully.”

Even now, we see in part. Partial sight isn’t failure. It’s part of learning to see Jesus clearly.

I don’t have to understand everything about God before I can trust Him. I don’t have to understand everything happening in my life before I can obey Him. I don’t have to see the whole story when I know the One who does.

So for now, I’ll keep looking at Jesus. And as I behold Him, I’ll let Him shape the way I see everything else.

Until one day, what I currently see only in part becomes sight in full.

Face to face.