The Bible is an amazing, confounding gift to us. The work is amazing in that it contains instruction and inspiration on every page in every imaginable literary form. We can open up to history or poetry, social science or prose, wisdom literature or correspondence, narrative or drama. The Bible is sometimes confounding because of its scope and variety of styles. We get comfortable with one way of expression only to be pulled into something very different. 

For example, when we read Mark’s account of the life of Jesus, the chapters are short and action-packed. Mark is the Tom Clancy of Gospel writers. Jesus is introduced on page two as an adult about to be baptized. In verse nine, he is tempted by Satan. By verse sixteen, he has recruited four disciples. In verse twenty-one he is teaching in the synagogue, astounding the worshippers. And, by verse twenty-five, he is curing very sick people. Mark writes for speed and movement, long on action, short on description. Look quickly or miss the point. Mark stresses urgency and clarity. He’s a “what you see is what you get” kind of writer. 

John, on the other hand, has a much more nuanced style. John writes in layers and his meaning emerges slowly. Nothing is hurried or simple in John’s narrative and so, this morning’s story of the man born blind speaks to us on several levels. One of the lessons John gives us in this long, detailed story is that Christ’s goodness and power are available to us all. Christ can touch and transform our lives at any time and, when that happens, the change is so dramatic that it comes with good news and some unwelcome surprises. John warns us – be advised and prepared, a touch by Jesus is no little, safe thing!

When we first meet the blind man, he is sitting in the open by a road, begging for coins in order to support himself. In an ancient society with no safety net for the disadvantaged, this was his only recourse. Jesus and his disciples pass by and the first followers take advantage of the encounter and ask their very wise teacher, “Jesus, why has this bad thing happened to this man?” They’re actually asking why there is suffering or evil in the world. And Jesus answers, “Look beyond the obvious. This man is not to be ridiculed or blamed. His difficult situation is not repayment or punishment for some ‘sin’ or irresponsible behavior, some poor choice or bad deed committed in the past by him or his family.” Jesus says, “This man’s plight carries within it the potential for great grace. God can use this situation to accomplish transforming good. Many, many people can be touched and changed by what happens with this man.”

“He will be remembered forever. He will draw so many closer to God and they will serve as witnesses to God’s love and power. They will be changed forever just as he is changed.” Jesus then offers the blind man a new way of being, a new reality for himself.

Jesus, a stranger to the man, a presence unknown, untested, comes to the man, touches him and asks for a response – “Go, wash in the pool. Take me at my word. Accept what I offer.”

“Go into the world, follow my direction and ‘see’ what happens.” In the eternal consistent pattern, Jesus comes to answer a need. Jesus touches a life, asks for a response and waits. Jesus makes transformation possible, but he does not impose the change. Wholeness, a cure, a change for the better is offered, not forced. In this case, the blind man, the one alone in his darkness, accepts the gift. 

He takes in the potential and promise and slowly, cautiously, makes his way to the pool. The pool Jesus names has no real significance. It contains no healing powers, no miraculous cures. It’s very name “Siloam” means “sent.” Jesus sends the blind man there only as a demonstration of the relationship.  Jesus comes, Jesus touches, we respond, transformation occurs. Going to the pool is the blind man’s sign of trust and acceptance. There he washes and there he is changed.

 For years and years, he was alone in darkness. Fear, worry, isolation and ridicule – these defined his life. Blindness did not just keep him from seeing the world. Blindness kept him from participating in the world. He was always on the outside, always on the edge, apart from the good things of life. His darkness kept him excluded from friendships, respect, and work that engendered purpose and affirmation. His brokenness defined who he was and totally shaped how the world responded to him. And now he was changed. He no longer was what he had always been.

The man who had been overlooked can now look back! How unsettling for others. How odd and surprising is the reaction to this man’s good news! Some neighbors are confused. “Wait, he’s always been the one who was worthless, who sat and begged. We knew his place and what to think about him. Now he’s different. What are we supposed to think about him now? If he’s different, does that make us different? We used to be superior to him, are we less now?

Other neighbors were so uncomfortable with the change, with the possibility of such a change, that they refused to acknowledge the difference. They made elaborate excuses for not believing. They so needed to maintain the status quo. They knew the old reality. They understood the roles and expectations of the former way. So they worked hard to keep everything the same. What should have been the cause of great celebration instead created agitation. The neighborhood, the authorities, even the family was made uneasy when the blind man was no longer who they “knew” him to be. Everyone was more comfortable when everything remained the same; everyone, that is, except the one who most needed the change. 

John has tapped into a universal human and divine truth. All human beings, the sweet young things, the old wizened sages, soldiers, bakers, Indian chiefs, all human beings have within them a blindness, a broken place that needs mending. All people carry some darkness, some blind spot that needs to come to light. Most of us are essentially good folk. Most of us are mostly kind and honest, respectful and compassionate. Most of us do more good than harm. We’re easy to be around and we’ll all likely get into heaven.

We can be satisfied that when God looks us over, he is by-and-large well pleased.  But, that doesn’t change the truth that along with our goodness and our health, our overall wholeness and well-being, we are also flawed and ugly in some part of our psyches. 

Each of us has a place that needs attention. Each of us has an area that could benefit from a divine touch. There is something amiss, something not functioning as it ought within us. A healing, a repair from a source greater than ourselves, would be most helpful. 

Some of us have been hurt by unhealthy, unhelpful family dynamics. Growing up, some parents weren’t as loving as they should have been or as responsible and responsive as they should have been. Maybe they showed favoritism to one child over another. Maybe they dealt with the disappointments of their lives by numbing themselves with alcohol or work commitments. Some of us have been hurt by family secrets and slights. Someone was remembered more graciously in a will. Someone was “protected” from some never spoken, but always present, truth. Some of us carry that sort of darkness, the pain of that kind of brokenness. Without healing, without bringing the ache to light, we operate in the world from a place of anxiousness and longing. We know something is missing or out of balance, but we don’t know how to make the loss or wobble right. 

Some of us had easy family relationships, but encountered other worries. Perhaps we experienced a “lacking.” Maybe we found ourselves in places where there never seemed to be enough – not enough attention, not enough success, not enough material goods to make us feel good about ourselves. Maybe we’re always driven to accumulate more of what we feel we lack. Maybe we worry about not getting our fair share. In our lives, maybe we have to have the last word or make sure our contributions are noticed because we’re afraid of being overlooked. Maybe we’re impatient folk, impatient with ourselves, with others, with processes because we’re tied up with positive, expedient outcomes. We’re worried about being judged as incompetent, so we push and strive. 

Maybe we do just the opposite. Maybe instead of over-achieving, we act the clown or behave in passive-aggressive ways. Worried that we will never be accepted for the unique, worthy person we are, we rebel. We act like we don’t care about what others value so much. We don’t keep to schedules or commitments. We flow in our own ways, exasperating others, but holding on to the idea of our special individuality. Some of us carry hurts and are unable to forgive others. Some of us carry hurts from folk who are unable to ask our forgiveness.   Some of us carry the darkness of too much pride, over compensating for a lack of genuine belovedness. 

Some of us carry the blindness of too little self-acceptance. Each of us has something we need repaired and restored to wholeness. Some of us know what the affected area is, some of us are still blind to it, we just know a piece of us aches and needs attention.

The cure, the help for this broken place lies beyond us. We cannot fix the problem ourselves. Even when we identify the infirmity, even when we know the exact nature of the malady, we cannot affect the healing.

We require intervention. Our blindness, that thing that creates a darkness and an inhibition in our lives, requires the light, the laser precision of a steadier hand. To be whole, we need the touch of the living God. We need the healing power of “God-among-us.” We need the touch of Christ. 

And John tells us this healing, this power to make all things well and right, is close to us. The cure we need, the help we require, is right before us. Jesus said, “I come into the world so that those who do not see, may see. I came into the world to make those who are broken, whole. I came into the world for anyone who needs ease in their souls, hearts, minds or bodies. I bring a sense of peace and wholeness. I came to be an agent for health and wellbeing.”

Our faith teaches us that Jesus was not a historical moral teacher only. Jesus became the Christ, the living, eternal God who is present in the world today affecting change for all who call upon his name. Anyone, any person sitting apart, residing outside the life they desire can call on the Lord Christ and he will touch them where they need attention and they will be transformed. 

Christ brings new life, changed perspective, a lifting of the darkness. Christ brings the kind of wholeness we need. Others may resist our renewed state, but we can rejoice in new life opened up to us. Like the blind man sitting on the road begging for life, begging to be a part of life, we can say, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” “Though I was broken, now I am whole.” “The Lord has set me free from darkness and I give thanks. I go to live in the light.” 

His grace, his touch, his healing is available to all who believe. May we have the wisdom and courage to call for the help we need.