There once was a story of a man born blind.
He lived a life of loneliness, seclusion, misunderstanding. He was exiled, cast out, and disowned from his family, forced to beg on the streets for survival. Hoping one would come along and show mercy to keep him alive.
All believed that either he, or his parents, had done something to bring this misfortune upon this evil blind man. "Master who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?"
As I read this story, my heart mourns with this blind man. What a life of loneliness he must have lived, a man acquainted with grief, I am sure. I may have not been born blind, but I have been born with some characteristics and tendencies that have caused me spiritual blindness at points in my life. But most of the time, I do not even have my "nature" to blame. I cause the blindness myself by my own choices and actions. I lose track of what I want to be doing with my life, where I am supposed to be, and why it even matters.
But the tale of the blind man is characterized not by his long life of exile, depression, and darkness, but he is remembered by his supreme act of faith and hope.
As Jesus passed by this blind man in the streets of Jerusalem of an early Sabbath morning, one of his disciples, no doubt trying to understand more fully the nature of sin, asked his Master, essentially, whose fault is it that the man before them was born blind. In their day and age, it was seen to be a sign of sin and loss of favor with God to be born with any type of physical disability or impairment.
Jesus, surprised the multitude with his answer, "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him."
The Prince of Peace did not see this man as a sinner, and in no way brought that blindness upon him as a punishment, but as an opportunity, if the blind man chose to accept it, to manifest the love, power, and mercy of the Son of God.
As Christ bowed and put a "spittle" of mud on his eyes, he commanded the man born blind to "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam."
No promise of healing was given, no immediate light bestowed, no grand performance in front of the crowds. Just a quiet command to go, and do.
And the blind man did just that.
I always pictured Christ leading this man to to pool with the multitudes following him, then the crowd gasping as they watched their community cripple become a man of sight. But I read too quickly. This man's journey was much different than that, and much more symbolic of the journey of a disciple.
"HE, went his way, therefore, and washed, and came seeing." (John 9:7)
HE. Not they, not the multitude, not the disciples, just HE.
This blind man, after an encounter with the Son of the Living God, given a command with no promise blessings verbalized, journeyed to the Pool of Siloam alone.
Now one may say, "Well that doesn't seem too hard!" until we remember that is man is blind.
We do not know how far this pool was from this man's regular begging spot, and we do not know how familiar he was was the landscape of the city. We are not given that information. But I would supposed it would be quite the feat.
He must have heard some people walking by day after day talking on this Jesus of Nazareth, and the miracles they had witnessed. He must have had some degree of skepticism, not ever being able to see these miracles with his own eyes. But whatever doubts he had, it was not enough to deter him from the possibility of sight. He was willing to make the journey, not knowing what the outcome would be.
Imagine, a blind man stumbling down the stony steps of Jerusalem alone, believing the Savoir's statement " I am the light of the world." With no promise he would receive sight, just believing enough to take step after step, hoping that the Savoir's declaration was true. Many must have mocked him, the blind man with muddy spit on his eyes. "What is he doing?" " Doesn't he know who he is in himself? A blind man? He must be a fool." Slowly, and painfully, trying to make his way to a destination he could not see. But he did make the journey, and he arrived, I would supposed, with some bruises and scrapes from his lonely voyage.
He arrived, and did as commanded: he washed. And as he washed, he received his sight.
Now we know that Christ was not there with him during this miracle because the neighbor's asked him " Where is he? And he said "I know not."
Now one would think this man would get to celebrate after having this wonderful miracle performed, but he was immediately taken to the Pharisees. He was questioned, and essentially was told the Jesus was an evil man, and that he should disown Christ as a sinner. But he would not. As he held true to the one thing he did know. "If this man were not of God, he could do nothing."
As he said this, he was reviled, declared unclean, and cast out of the synagogue.
What a day. A man who was condemned by his own community since the day he was born finally could see. A wave of emotions must have been running through his mind. Who is this man whom opened mine eyes? Who I have been cast out of the synagogue for? I have never seen him, but he hast change my life. Bruised, bleeding, rejected, he probably stumbled in the dark of night to find the few belongings he had at his beggar's post.
I would imagine and he reached his old shelter of many years, he would have stopped short, knelt to the ground and touched the dirt that brought him sight, and sobbed at the miracle he was blessed to be apart of.
But Jesus would not leave his newfound disciple comfortless. When he heard the blind man had been cast out, he went to find him. The once blind man, never having seen the Savoir, could not have recognized him by appearance. I picture Jesus, slowly approaching this man, who could have been sobbing on the ground, wet, dirty, and broken, and asked "Dost thou believe on the Son of God?"
The blind man, in a third proof of his faith that day, asked a faith promoting question, "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on him?"
He does not stop at "No, I do not know him." Or "I am not sure." But he says "Who is he?" (implying that he does not know or else he wouldn't be asking), and continues with "that I might believe on him?" He does not know at that moment who the Son of God is, but he wants to know. Then Christ, as he always does, reveals himself to one seeking him.
"Thou hast both seen him, and it is he that talketh with thee."
What a moment that must have been. A man, on his first day of sight, was privileged to not just see the savoir physically, but to know of his true character and divinity the same day. He knew in that moment that Jesus Christ was who he said he was, and I imagine him falling into the arms of his Savoir, sobbing and "worshiping" him.
"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped him."
There is power in the words. "Lord, I believe."
Now we, on our paths to discipleship, sometimes expect the Savior to walk us down to the pool. We expect him to verbalize a promise that our faith will be rewarded. We expect him to show up when we are being mocked and ridiculed. We may think the path he has commanded us to take is unconventional, is unsafe, the path may seem to stony and crooked for our blind selves to navigate. "It is impossible!" we can declare. "How am I supposed to get where he has asked me to without sight! Doesn't he KNOW I am BLIND?"
Yes, he knows us. And he knows what path we need to take to become like him. He has walked the blind path before, and carved marks along the walls of the path through the nails in his hands and feet. Will we still stumble? Yes. Will we take a wrong turn sometimes? Possibly. But as we feel for those marks in the walls and search for our Reedemer, we will know he is with us along our path. And as we show our faith, consistently, never faltering, there will come a day where we can kneel at his feet, recognize those marks, come to know him, and say "Lord, I believe."
Verses taken from John Chapter 9.
