In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus asks a question twice, in two very different moments, to two very different kinds of people: “What do you want me to do for you?”
The question seems redundant because Jesus knows what we need before we ask. He sees the heart more clearly than we see ourselves. So why does he ask this question?
Jesus is not trying to learn something about us. He is helping us see something about ourselves. The question is not for information but for revelation. In Mark’s Gospel, the placement of this question is deliberate. It is not merely recorded history, it is spiritual diagnosis.
When Seeing Eyes Are Blind
The first time Jesus asks this question, it is directed to two of his closest disciples, James and John. They approach him with confidence: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you” (Mark 10:35).
It is a bold request. They assume that their proximity gives privilege and that their closeness as disciples entitles them to special favour.
Jesus responds with the question: “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:36).
Their answer reveals more than they realise: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:37).
They want position, recognition, and to be seen. Their request is not obviously sinful, immoral, or shocking. It is something more subtle and, therefore, more dangerous. It is a good desire bent in the wrong direction. They want to be near Jesus, but they also want to be elevated with him.
It is easy to distance ourselves from them, but their desire is not foreign to us. It is the current beneath much of our striving—even in ministry, even in spiritual life. We want to follow Jesus, but we also want to matter in visible ways. We want to be faithful, but we also want to be noticed.
The disciples are asking for glory without understanding the cross.
But Jesus does not rebuke them harshly. Instead, he redirects them. He speaks of a cup they must drink and a baptism they must undergo. He redefines greatness: “But whoever would be great among you must be your servant” (Mark 10:43).
Jesus does not simply deny their request but exposes the shape of their desire and begins to reshape it.
When Blindness Sees Clearly
Immediately after this interaction, Mark presents another scene. Jesus encounters Bartimaeus, a blind beggar sitting by the roadside.
Bartimaeus has no status, no influence, and no position. Yet he has something the disciples lack in this moment: clarity.
He cries out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (Mark 10:47). The crowd tries to silence him, but he refuses to be quiet. His need is too great, his longing too urgent.
Jesus stops, and then he asks Bartimaeus the same question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus answers simply, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight” (Mark 10:51).
There is no ambition, positioning, or calculation in his request. There is just pure need, honesty, and clarity.
And Jesus responds, “Go your way; your faith has made you well” (Mark 10:52)
Immediately, Bartimaeus receives his sight. And then something even more significant happens: he follows Jesus on the way.
The Question That Reveals the Heart
Mark places these two encounters side by side to create a contrast that is hard to ignore. James and John can see, but they do not yet understand. Bartimaeus cannot see, but he understands exactly what he needs.
Transformation in the Christian life does not begin with behaviour, it begins with desire.
The disciples are near Jesus, yet shaped by the allure of status. Bartimaeus is on the outside, yet drawn by a deeper recognition of who Jesus is. The disciples ask for glory, but the blind man asks for sight. It is not just a contrast between characters. It is a mirror held up to the reader.
Because the question Jesus asks them is the same question he asks us: What do you want me to do for you?
It is a disarming question. It refuses to let us hide behind vague spirituality or general requests. The question presses us to name our desire, and what we name reveals what we trust.
Desire Before Transformation
Transformation in the Christian life does not begin with behaviour, it begins with desire.
We often assume discipleship is about doing the right things. But Jesus consistently goes deeper. He addresses the heart—the place where our loves, fears, and longings are formed (Matt. 12:34).
James and John are not wrong to want something from Jesus. But their desire is shaped by a vision of greatness that seeks their own interest. It is a disordered desire. Bartimaeus, on the other hand, brings a desire that is both honest and aligned with his true need. He does not ask to be made important. He asks to be made whole.
The invitation of Jesus is not to suppress our desire, but to bring it into the light.
The movement of discipleship is not from desire to no desire. It is from disordered desire to redeemed desire. From wanting what elevates us to wanting what restores us.
From Glory to Wholeness
Most of us live somewhere between these two responses. There are parts of us that sound like the disciples—seeking recognition, control, or validation. And there are parts of us that sound like Bartimaeus—aware of our blindness, and longing for restoration.
The invitation of Jesus is not to suppress our desire, but to bring it into the light. To name it honestly, to examine it in the light of his word, and to allow him to reshape it.
The problem is not that we desire too much. It is that we often desire the wrong things in the wrong way. We seek a position when we need restoration. We chase glory when we need grace.
Jesus does not shame our desire. He redirects it because only in him do we find the satisfaction that our souls long for. He came not to be served but to serve (Mark 10:45). Jesus took on the nature of a servant and gave himself up willingly, completely, sacrificially for us and for our sin on the cross (Phil. 2:6-11).
Jesus still asks this question today: “What do you want me to do for you?”
It meets us in our prayers, our ambitions, our disappointments, and our quiet longings. It surfaces when we begin to realise that what we have been pursuing has not satisfied us.
We can answer like the disciples, asking for a position of greatness. Or we can answer like Bartimaeus, asking for eyes to see. One leads to striving for power, but the other leads to seeing and worshipping Jesus.
Ultimately, we follow Jesus not to be seen but to see him clearly and to seek his glory alone.
