Pursued

Pursued
Pursued - Audio/Visual

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. “Rabbi,” his disciples asked him, “why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sins?” “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” Then he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and spread the mud over the blind man’s eyes. He told him, “Go wash yourself in the pool of Siloam.” So the man went and washed and came back seeing! His neighbors and others who knew him as a blind beggar asked each other, “Isn’t this the man who used to sit and beg?” Some said he was, and others said, “No, he just looks like him!” But the beggar kept saying, “Yes, I am the same one!” They asked, “Who healed you? What happened?” He told them, “The man they call Jesus made mud and spread it over my eyes and told me, ‘Go to the pool of Siloam and wash yourself.’ So I went and washed, and now I can see!”

The Jewish leaders still refused to believe the man had been blind and could now see, so they called in his parents. They asked them, “Is this your son? Was he born blind? If so, how can he now see?” His parents replied, “We know this is our son and that he was born blind, but we don’t know how he can see or who healed him. Ask him. He is old enough to speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who had announced that anyone saying Jesus was the Messiah would be expelled from the synagogue…. And they threw him out of the synagogue.

When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man”? The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!” “Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus. (John 9:1-2;
6-11; 18-23; 34-39)

The old guy at the corner hasn't seen him, and the woman selling figs hasn't either. Jesus describes him to the scribes at the gate, and to the kids in the courtyard: "He's about this tall; his clothes are a little ragged." But no one has a clue. For the better part of a day Jesus has been searching up and down the streets of Jerusalem. He didn't stop for lunch; he didn’t even pause to catch his breath. The only time his feet weren’t moving was when he was asking, "Pardon me, but have you seen the blind fellow who used to beg on the corner?"

He searched the horse stable; he even checked out an old shed. Now Jesus is going door-to-door. "He has a homeless look about him," Jesus tells people. "Unkempt. Dirty. Muddy eyelids." Finally a boy gives him a lead. Jesus takes a back street toward the temple and spots the man sitting on a stump between two donkeys. Christ approaches from behind and places a hand on his shoulder. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you." The fellow turns and, for the first time, sees the one who let him see. And what the man does next, you may find hard to believe. But first, a little review is in order.

John introduces him to us with these words: "As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth." (John 9:1) This man has never seen a sunrise. Can't tell purple from pink. The disciples fault the family tree. "Rabbi, why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sin?” (v. 2) “Neither,” Jesus replies. Trace this condition back to heaven. The reason the man was born sightless? So that "the power of God could be seen in him." (v. 3)

Talk about a thankless role. This guy’s been selected to suffer. Some sing to God’s glory, and others teach to God's glory. But who wants to be blind for God's glory? And what’s tougher? The condition, or discovering it was God's idea? But the cure proves to be as surprising as the cause. "[Jesus] spat on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and spread the mud over the blind man’s eyes.” (v. 6) You know, the world is filled with various paintings of Jesus: in the arms of Mary, in the Garden of Gethsemane, in the darkened tomb. But I've never seen a painting of Jesus spitting. But there he is – Jesus smacking his lips, gathering a mouth full of saliva, and letting the blob drop to the dirt. And then he squats, stirs up a puddle of . . . what would you call it? Holy putty? Saliva solution? Whatever the name, Jesus places a fingerful in his palm, and then, like Rembrandt, streaks the mud-miracle onto the blind man's eyes. "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam," Jesus says. (v. 7)

So, the beggar feels his way to the pool, splashes water on his mud-streaked face, and rubs away the clay. The result is the first chapter of Genesis, just for him. Light where there was darkness. Virgin eyes focus. Fuzzy figures become human beings. And John receives the Understatement of the Bible Award when he writes: "He . . . came back seeing." (v. 7) Come on, John. Running a little short on verbs there? How about "He raced back seeing"? Or, "He danced back seeing"? Maybe, "He roared back whooping and hollering and kissing everyone he could find, for the first time, seeing"? The guy had to be thrilled. And we’d love to leave him that way. But if this man's life were a cafeteria, he just stepped away from the sirloin to jump into the line for the Brussels sprouts.

For instance, look at the reaction of the neighbors: "’Isn’t this the man who used to sit and beg?’ Some said he was, and others said, ‘No, he just looks like him!’ But the beggar kept saying, ‘Yes, I am the one!’” (vv. 8-9) Did you notice that? These folks aren’t celebrating; they’re debating. They’ve watched this man grope and trip since he was a kid. (v. 20) So, you'd think they’d be rejoicing. But they aren’t. Instead, they march him down to the church to have him kosher tested.

Upon arrival, the Pharisees ask for an explanation, and the once-blind beggar says, "He applied clay to my eyes, and I washed, and I see." (v. 15) Again we pause for the applause. Still nothing. No recognition. No celebration. Apparently, Jesus had failed to consult the healing handbook – “Now it was a Sabbath on the day when Jesus made the clay and opened his eyes. . . . The Pharisees were saying, 'This man is not from God, because He does not keep the Sabbath.'" (vv. 14, 16) Pause. Did you hear that? Did you hear that noise? That’s the beeping of the absurdity Geiger counter. The religious leaders' verdict bounces the needle off the chart. Let me give you an example of what I’m talking about.

Suppose the swimming pool where you swim has a sign on the fence that reads, “Rescues Performed by Certified Lifeguards Only.” Of course, you never give the sign a thought until one day you bang your head on the bottom of the pool. You black out, eight feet under. Next thing you know you're belly-down on the side of the pool, coughing up water. Someone rescued you. And when the lifeguards appear, the fellow who pulled you out of the pool has since disappeared. But as you come to your senses, you tell the lifeguards your story. However, rather than rejoice, the lifeguards and the bystanders shout, "Doesn't count! Doesn't count!" They’re acting like referees waving off a basketball that cleared the net after the clock had expired. "It wasn't official. Wasn't legal. Since the rescuer wasn't certified, consider yourself drowned." Absurd, right? So, won’t anyone rejoice with this man?

The neighbors didn't. The preachers didn't. Oh, but wait. Whew. Finally. Here come the parents. But the reaction of the formerly blind man's parents is even worse. “‘Is this your son? Was he born blind? If so, how can he now see?’ His parents replied, ‘We know this is our son and that he was born blind, but we don’t know how he can see or who healed him. Ask him. He is old enough to speak for himself.’ His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who had announced that anyone saying Jesus was the Messiah would be expelled from the synagogue.” (vv. 18-22)

How could the parents do that? Granted, to be put out of the synagogue was a big deal. But isn't refusing to help your child even worse? And who was really blind that day, anyway? The neighbors didn't see the man – they saw a novelty. The church leaders didn't see the man – they saw a technicality. The parents didn't see their son – they saw a social difficulty. In the end, no one saw him. So, “they threw him out of the synagogue." (v. 34) And now, here he is on the back streets of Jerusalem. The guy has got to be just a little bewildered. Born blind only to be healed. Healed only to be kicked out of church. Kicked out only to be left alone. From Mt. Whitney to the Mojave Desert, all in one Sabbath. Now he can't even beg anymore. How would that feel? Maybe you know how that feels. Do some people seem to be dealt more than their share of bad hands? If so, Jesus knows. He knows how they feel, and he knows where they are. "Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and went and found him." (v. 35)

If three decades of earth walking and miracle working aren’t sufficient, or if there’s any doubt in your mind about God's full-bore devotion, he goes and does something like this. He goes Columbo and tracks down a troubled pauper. And when he arrives, the beggar lifts his eyes to look into the face of the one who’d started it all. Is he going to criticize Christ? Complain to Jesus? You couldn't blame him for doing both, frankly. After all, he didn't volunteer for the disease, or the deliverance. But he does neither. "He worshiped Jesus," instead. (v. 38) And don't you think he probably knelt? And wouldn’t you think he probably wept? And if so, how could he keep from wrapping his arms around the waist of the one who gave him sight? And so he worshiped him. And when you see Jesus, you will too.

Some of your legs may be wheel-chaired, and some of your hearts may be hope-starved. But "these hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us." (2 Cor. 4:17 MSG) The day you see your Savior you will experience a million times over what Joni Eareckson Tada experienced on her wedding day. You see, a diving accident had left Joni paralyzed at the age of seventeen. All of her nearly fifty years since have been spent in a wheelchair. Her handicap doesn't keep her from writing or painting or speaking about her Savior. Nor did her handicap keep her from marrying Ken. But it almost kept her from the joy of the wedding.

She'd done her best, mind you. Her gown was draped over a thin wire mesh covering the wheels of her wheelchair. With flowers in her lap and a sparkle in her eye, she felt a "little like a float in the Rose Parade." A ramp had been constructed, connecting the foyer to the altar. Unfortunately, while waiting her turn to motorize over it, Joni made a discovery. Across her dress was a big, black grease mark courtesy of the chair. And the chair, though "spiffed up . . . was still the big, clunky thing it always was." Then the bouquet of daisies on her lap slid off center, and her paralyzed hands were unable to rearrange them. She felt anything but the picture-perfect bride in Bride's Magazine. Nevertheless, she inched her chair forward and looked down the aisle. And that's when she saw her groom.

“I spotted him way down front, standing at attention and looking tall and elegant in his formal attire. My face grew hot. My heart began to pound. Our eyes met and, amazingly, from that point everything changed. How I looked no longer mattered. I forgot all about my wheelchair. Grease stains? Flowers out of place? Who cares? No longer did I feel ugly or unworthy; the love in Ken's eyes washed it all away. I was the pure and perfect bride. That's what he saw, and that's what changed me. It took great restraint not to jam my ‘power stick’ into high gear and race down the aisle to be with my groom.”

When she saw her groom, she forgot about herself. And when you see Jesus, you will too. I'm sorry about that greasy gown. And your flowers? They tend to slide, don't they? Who has an answer for the diseases, drudgeries and darkness of this life? I don't. But we do know this: everything changes when you look at the groom. And yours is coming.

Just as he came for the blind man, Jesus is coming for you. The hand that touched the blind man's shoulder will touch your cheeks. The face that changed his life will change yours as well. And when you see Jesus, you’ll worship him, too.

Grace,

Randy