One Thing I Know, I Was Blind, Now I See

Today, this very day, Jesus is on his way to the cross for us… again! And no one who encounters him will not be changed. Made new. Restored. Yes, saved. So brace yourself. Open yourself. Hear his story. See what he’s done for others along his way to that horrible hill. Come to the table to which he invites you… and you may just find yourself saying, like that fellow unsighted from birth. “I may not understand everything about Jesus, but one thing I know, I was blind, now I see.”

Remember two weeks ago, how we spoke of Nicodemus? He came to Jesus in the dark, ‘left in the light. Jesus helps him know where he’s starting from. And what stands between him and heaven. That woman at the well last week, she came in the dark, but left in the light. Because of what Jesus said to her, she was changed. Because of what she told, others came to Jesus. And because of what they heard, many were saved. Now comes this fellow blind from birth. He cones in his own darkness, but leaves in Christ’s light. Whereas at first he could see nothing, after Jesus touches him, he can see everything. But even better, he can see the one thing that matters more than all things, he can see who Jesus really is because he has experienced what Jesus was sent to do! All these folks (and more) come out of the dark but leave in the light because of their encounter with Jesus-on-his-way-to-the-cross. Will you pray with me today? Will you pray with me (with your eyes wide open) today that this may be true for us? Each of us. All of us:

Gracious God,

I’m not askin’ for the moon today, only for your Son.

I have a lot of dark days when I can’t see the way,

or hardly anything at all. And I have shadowy days

when what I can see frightens me, and what I can’t threatens me.

And I’ve been like this from the day I was born.

Gracious God,

on his way to the cross, let Jesus cross my path

and touch my eyes and send me to wash my face

and let me move into the light, where I can see everything in my life with a clear eye and a strengthened heart.

Gracious God,

More than any thing, let my opened eyes see One Thing

more clearly than any, every other.

Let me see Jesus. Let me see him for who he is.

Let me see him as he is because he has touched me

as he was sent to touch me.

O Gracious God,

grace me with but one more gift. Let my lips tell what my eyes see.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Don’t allow me to wait ‘til I understand to say what I have seen.

Don’t entrap me in explanations others demand,

only to put off opening their own eyes.

Spare me getting caught up in what I would control, or possess.

And when those around me say, “What happened to you?”

And, “Who did this thing?” make me bold to say,

“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Son of Man. I believe. I believe. I believe.”

“For I was blind. Now I see. Now I see.”

May it be true for all who so pray. May it be true for me. Amen!

I don’t want to re-tell John’s Jesus-story this morning. Or regale you with deep learning or great explanations. But it might help us each to see where we are on our walk with Jesus to look upon this once-blind man. ‘And to see the contrast with those who eyes were fine but whose hearts could not see. At first, our healed man spoke of Jesus this way. “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes, and told me to go and wash.” Jesus was for him, just a man, a very good man, even gifted, but no more. He’d heard of Jesus, but never submitted to his touch or felt him near. Friends, even if you’ve come to church forever, maybe Jesus is like this to you! A reputation more than a redeemer. If so, you will need to let Christ near enough to see what is unsighted, blind in you. He will know the cause, like no one else. I promise you that. A need to control, maybe. A passion for certainty. Or just the opposite, a sense that you are not worthy, not OK enough to be deserving. Maybe a perfectionism that hides the empty self-doubt you carry way down deep. Does Jesus remain for you, just a man, even if he is on his way to the cross? This once-blind-temple-beggar felt Jesus’ touch. He heard his voice, followed his command. And because of it, he was healed. His eyes and heart were opened. Now, he calls Jesus a prophet when others doubt and scoff. Folks who should have known better! Now the word prophet means mouthpiece, one who speaks for God! Because he let Jesus touch him where he hurt the most, right on the eyes, and listened to what Jesus said and did as he directed, everything about this soul was forever changed (we would guess, from here to hereafter). “Never since the world began has it been heard that any one opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing,” he confesses. “Jesus is God’s mouthpiece, a prophet,” we seem to hear him say. Friends, let Jesus touch the places where you hurt-the-most today. Just stand still for Jesus. Offer up those blinding burdens. He will touch them, and tell you how to get clean in his name. But this ancient conversion was not complete, ours either. No, maybe not ‘til Jesus comes to us, like him, in that moment Christ knows we’ve been cast out, are all alone. How I love that he seeks us out and knows where to find us. Even me. Even you. And he still asks, “Do you believe in the Son…?” And if we’re as honest to ask as that old beggar, “Who is he, that I may believe?" Jesus still says, “You’ve seen him; it is I, speaking to you.” If you’ve never had that talk with Jesus, or need to renew it, today’s your day! This is your time! When you come to the table today, bring the Jesus you know with you. The man. The prophet. A sense of the Son. When you kneel here, let him touch you. Take him in, in a way that old beggar never knew. And glimpse his cross, coming near in a way those long-ago healed eyes could likely not yet see. And when you rise… whisper, or better, shout the words… he spoke so long ago, “Lord, I believe!” and give to Jesus all your praise! You needn’t understand or know it all. Only this. One thing I know, I was blind, now I see.

Come. Jesus, and his table, and his healing are waiting.

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