“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

–John 9:25

One of my favorite Biblical scenes recalls a day when Jesus restores sight to a man who has been blind from birth. The narrative fills the entire ninth chapter of John’s gospel. In it, the author describes the most hands-on time of healing by Jesus in any of the gospels, involving spit and mud and the washing of eyes. The account also tells of an extensive kind of cross-examination afterwards of the one who has received the gift of sight.  

First, he is questioned by neighbors and others who can’t even agree that is the same man who had once begged for alms. “How were your eyes opened?” they say. The man shares the steps that followed his encounter with Jesus. They ask where Jesus can be found. “I do not know,” he replies.

Word gets to the Pharisees, Jews who prided themselves on being more faithful than the everyday believer. They bring in the man and ask for an explanation of his healing. Once more he recalls the events that led to sight. The Pharisees are uncomfortable with the idea that Jesus could offer such restoration. Furthermore, the act occurred on the Sabbath when Jews were to refrain from any deed considered work. By their definition, even such healing could have waited for another day. They debate among themselves as to how a man who is a sinner perform such signs of power. “What do you say about him?” they ask the man. “It was your eyes he opened.” The recipient of Jesus’ care suggests “He is a prophet.”

Uncomfortable with that possibility, the Pharisees have the man’s parents brought in for questioning. “Is this your son who you say was born blind?  How then does he now see?” They confirm the family connection, but cannot explain the healing. The parents also know that if they say more it will mean trouble for them with the Jewish leaders. So, they simply add, “He is of age, ask him.” 

For a second time, the Pharisees have the man brought in. “Give glory to God!” they shout. “We know this man is a sinner.” The man’s response is clear (and the source for a beloved hymn verse) “I do not know whether he is sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”  

The man can’t explain the transformation, but he can testify to the result.  I suspect that is true for many of us as well.  

Years ago, I went to visit a parishioner in the hospital. Let’s call him Tom. On that day, he was a patient in a facility that focused on the treatment of rare forms of cancer. I had also seen him months earlier in the ICU of our local hospital, but we had not spoken since.  The second visit occurred two days after surgery. I learned all had gone well and that he would soon be discharged. I celebrated that news with him. Tom then began to reflect on the health challenges of the previous months. “One of the blessings of this time is that my family and I have talked about important things. They know that I may not make it and they are alright with that.” “How about you?” “I am completely at peace. I have a whole new sense of God.” 

“How did that come about?” I asked. Tom paused for a moment and then, with tears in his eyes, replied “It was when you came to see me a year ago in the ICU. Before leaving you offered a prayer and when it concluded I had this sense of peace come over me like I had never known before. I had been around the church all my life,” Tom added “but in that moment I became a believer.” 

In 36 years as a pastor, I couldn’t possibly count how many times I had prayed with a parishioner. Even so, I had never heard that kind of testimony before about the impact of a prayer I had offered. It moved me, deeply.

Tom went on to tell of how that peaceful spirit caused him to look back over the course of his life and see blessings he had missed at the time. He recounted getting a college scholarship to an elite school and after graduation becoming the youngest person to hold a position of great responsibility in a large company. “I thought I was pretty special,” he said. “I thought I was pretty smart.” 

Later, he changed jobs, going to a smaller firm, but four years down the road was laid off. He spoke of harboring great resentment toward the man who had fired him, another member of our congregation.  ”In those days,” Tom said “I was so angry that if I had been walking down steps behind him at church I would have pushed him.” Thankfully, he didn’t act on that impulse, but instead soon found his skills validated by a different company. In the years that followed their children graduated from college, each of them got married, he retired, and became a grandfather.     

Tom was enjoying life to the fullest when these successive health challenges arose. Diagnosed with this rare cancer, he met with a surgeon and mapped out a plan. Before they could act, he was rushed to the hospital where it was thought he had suffered a stroke. On the third day of testing, a visiting neurologist from another country acted on a hunch and confirmed that instead of a stroke, it was a very rare autoimmune disease.  Once given the correct treatment he began to improve. All of those event occurred before I visited with Tom in the ICU and prayed with him.

In reflecting on that journey he concluded: “There was no mathematical probability that this could have happened. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t so smart or so lucky.  Instead, God had been responsible for all that had happened. I no longer felt malice toward people that I felt had done me an injustice. I finally understood that each time I had beaten the odds I had not done it alone, that Christ had been with me. Each and every time.”

May you come to discover and/or celebrate the same truth about your own life’s narrative, too.

Ever-present One, thank you for the care you provide without fail. Help me to look back on my journey and find such gifts in my story, especially in those moments when I cannot otherwise explain what happened. Amen.