Believing is Seeing

Believing is Seeing

Believing is Seeing - Audio/Visual 

Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” “Who is he, sir?” the man asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said, “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.” Then the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him. (John 9:35-38)

The old guy on the corner hadn’t seen him, and the woman selling figs, seated catty-corner from the old guy hadn’t seen him either. Jesus had even described him to the scribes at the gate, and to the kids in the courtyard. “He’s about this tall. Kind of a scraggly beard. Clothes a little threadbare.” No one had the foggiest idea about who Jesus was talking about.

For the better part of the day, Jesus had been searching up and down the streets of Jerusalem for the guy. He hadn’t stopped for lunch; he didn’t even pause to take a break. The only time Jesus’ feet weren’t moving was when he was asking, “Pardon me, but have you seen that fellow who used to beg at the corner of Blind and Faith streets?” Finally, a young boy gave him a lead and, with that, Jesus took a back street toward the temple and spotted the man sitting on a stump between two donkeys. Jesus approached him from behind and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” The fellow turned and, for the first time, saw the one who’d made him see.

John introduces us to the man with these words: “As he (Jesus) went along, he saw a man blind from birth.” (John 9:1) In other words, this man had never seen a sunrise; he couldn’t tell black from white; he’d never even seen his mom or dad. Not surprisingly, the disciples blamed the family tree. “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (vs. 2) “Neither,” Jesus replies. You could, instead, trace the man’s condition back to heaven because the reason the man was born sightless was so that “the works of God might be displayed in him.” (vs. 3) Selected to suffer. Talk about a thankless role. Some sing to God’s glory. Others speak of God’s glory. But who wants to be blind for God’s glory? And what’s tougher – the condition itself, or the discovery that it was God’s idea in the first place?

And the cure? Well, it proved to be as eye-opening as the cause. “[Jesus] spit on the ground, made some mud with saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes.” (vs. 6) There are probably a million different pictures of Jesus: in the arms of Mary; in the Garden of Gethsemane; in the upper room; on the cross; in the darkened tomb. Jesus touching. Jesus weeping. Jesus laughing, teaching and loving. But I’ve never seen a picture of Jesus spitting. Have you? So, picture it. Christ licking his lips a time or two, gathering a mouth full of spit, working up a blob of drool and letting it fall to the dirt. Then he squats, stirs up a muddy puddle of … well … I don’t know. What would you call it? Holy putty? A saliva solution? Whatever the name, he placed a finger-full in the palm of his hand and then, as calmly as a painter spackles a hole in the wall, Jesus streaked the mud-miracle onto the blind man’s eyes. “Go … wash in the pool of Siloam,” Jesus says. (vs. 7) So, the beggar feels his way to the fountain, 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 begin to focus, and once fuzzy or unseen figures become human beings.

Describing these events, John gets the Biblical Understatement of the Year award when he writes: “He came home seeing.” (John 9:7). Come on. Really? Running a little short on verbs, John? How about “He raced back seeing”? Or “He danced back seeing”? Maybe even, “He roared back whooping and hollering and kissing-every-baby-he-could-get-his-hands-on-for-the-first-time seeing”? The guy had to have been thrilled beyond words, and we would love to leave him that way, but we can’t. If this man’s life were like a ride at Disneyland, he’d just stepped out of the line for Thunder Mountain to saunter over to the horse-drawn streetcar on Main Street. Don’t believe me? Just look at the reaction of the neighbors. “‘Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg?’ Some claimed that he was. Others said, ‘No, he only looks like him.’ But he himself insisted, ‘I am the man.’” (vs. 9)

In other words, these folks didn’t celebrate the man’s good fortune; they debated it. They’ve watched him grope and trip since he was a child. (vs. 23) So, you’d think they’d be happy for him. But noooooo; they’re not. Anything but that. Rather than rejoicing in the man’s miracle, they march him down to the church building to have him kosher-tested. And when the Pharisees ask for an explanation, the once-blind beggar says, “’He put mud on my eyes … I washed, and now I see.’” (vs. 15)

Again, we pause for the applause, but all you hear are crickets, instead. No recognition. No celebration. And making matters worse, Jesus had apparently forgotten to consult the healing handbook before performing his miracle. “Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath …. Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” (vs. 14, 16)  Sigh.

Won’t anyone celebrate with this guy? The neighbors didn’t. The preachers didn’t. Oh, but wait. Here come the parents; surely, they’ll be happy for their sight-given son. But the reaction of the parents is even worse because now they’re under subpoena from the church police who proceed to interrogate them – Klieg lights and all. Questioning the parents they demand, “Is this your son?” “Is this the one you say was born blind?” “How is it that now he can see?” Cowering from the rough treatment, the parents admit, “’We know he is our son … and we know he was born blind,’” but then go into their plausible deniability mode – “… who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.’” And their rationale for throwing their son under the bus? “His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who had already decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue.” (vs. 19-22). How could the parents do that? Granted, being kicked out of church was serious business, but refusing to help their own son? Tragic.

The truth is no one “saw” him. And you have to ask yourself, “So, who was really blind that day?” (vs. 39) 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.” (vs. 34) And now he’s back on the streets of Jerusalem. The poor guy probably left church that day both crushed and bewildered. Born blind only to be healed. Healed only to be kicked out of church. Kicked out of church only to be left alone. The poor guy’s gone from the peak of Mt. Whitney to the depths of Death Valley – all in one Sabbath. And to make matters worse, he can’t even beg anymore because he’s no longer blind and has no job skills. How would that feel?

Maybe you know someone like that – a couple who’s buried a daughter; a single mom raising an autistic son; a neighbor with cancer whose medical records are as thick as a phone book. Do you know anyone who seems to have been dealt more than their fair share of bad hands in life? Maybe you’re the one whose been dealt a 2 and 7 off-suit hand in the game of “Heaven hold ‘em,” where there are no good options for you. You don’t have a straight draw or a flush draw, and even if you wind up with a pair of 7’s or a pair of 2’s, you still have a bad hand. If this describes you, or someone you know, Jesus knows, too. He knows how they feel, and he’s keenly aware of their circumstances. And he knows how you feel, and he knows your circumstances too because “Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and … he found him ….” (John 9:35)

Maybe the virgin birth we just celebrated isn’t proof enough. Or maybe three decades of earth walking and miracle working aren’t sufficient, either. But if there’s any doubt regarding God’s complete and utter devotion to his creation, he does this kind of stuff. He tracks down a “nobody,” and the once-blind beggar lifts his eyes to look into the face of the one who started it all. And you have to wonder, after all he’s been through, if the guy’s going to yell at Jesus, or at least voice a complaint. You couldn’t blame him if he did, I suppose. After all, he didn’t volunteer for the disease or the deliverance. But he does neither. “He worshiped him,” instead. (vs. 38)

Have you seen Him? No, not the blind guy. Have you seen Jesus? The God-man. (John 1:1; 14) Because when you do, when you really see Him, you’ll do what the once-blind beggar did. Just as Jesus came for the blind man, he’s coming for you, too. The hand that touched the blind man’s shoulder that day has touched your own, and the face that changed the once blind man’s life can change yours as well. Take it from the man once born blind – believing is seeing. He believed the word of a man whom he had never seen and, when he did, saw the man who changed his life – forever.

Grace,

Randy