John 9:1-39
1 As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
3 “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. 4 As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5 While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
6 After saying this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. 7 “Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means “Sent”). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.
13 They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14 Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath. 15 Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. “He put mud on my eyes,” the man replied, “and I washed, and now I see.”
16 Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.”
But others asked, “How can a sinner perform such signs?” So they were divided.
17 Then they turned again to the blind man, “What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened.”
The man replied, “He is a prophet.”
34 To this they replied, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” And they threw him out.
35 Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
36 “Who is he, sir?” the man asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.”
37 Jesus said, “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.”
38 Then the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.
39 Jesus said, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.”
So that the Works of God Might Be Displayed
One of the perks of having served as a pastor for over a decade now is that I’ve preached over 500 sermons – many of them repeats of the same passages but several years apart. Of course, it’s helpful to be able to go back and re-read my notes as I prepare for upcoming sermons, but it’s also a wonderful opportunity for reflection on the past. Each of those sermons is a snapshot of a very specific moment in time, and as I re-read them – and the notes that went into them – I can gain a greater appreciation for what God was doing back then, and what’s he done in the meantime.
The last time I preached on John 9 was March 15, 2020. Does that date ring a bell? Maybe one you’d rather forget? How providential that on the Sunday that the global pandemic reached St. Albert, this was the appointed Gospel text! Our world was falling apart. Our grasp on normality, let alone reality, was slipping. And many of us were left asking the same question that Jesus’ disciples were asking about this blind man: “Who sinned?” “Whose fault is this!?” “What is God’s endgame here?”
If I could go back in time, I’d give my six-year-younger self a great big hug. I’d let him know that even though it was going to get a whole lot weirder and worse, he would get through it and, believe it or not, be better for it, because even in those moments, those things were happening so that the works of God might be displayed.
I find it interesting that Jesus spoke those words to his disciples and not to the blind man. Can you imagine if he did? The skepticism, the cynicism, that he’d get back? The laughable scoffing of that blind man and his family. “I’ve spent my whole life blind just so you could get your 15 minutes of fame?” That doesn’t seem like the behaviour of a loving or even a fair God.
Maybe you’ve felt the same – when your grandchildren get sick and have to suffer, when your friend falls on hard times, when a loved one loses the foothold for their faith. That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a loving or a good God would allow to happen. How can God explain that?
Jesus says, “This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”[1] And they were, right? By the end of the day, Jesus had done the impossible. He had reversed a lifelong condition. He produced a result that even with all our technological and medical advancements in the intervening 2,000 years we still can’t replicate. That blind man added a new adverb to his name. He wouldn’t be known as “the blind man” anymore. From that day on, he’d be called, “the formerly blind man,” because now he could see.
God did display his might in that man. God did demonstrate Jesus’ power on that day. And just like Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman before them, everyone who witnessed this miracle had to come to the same conclusion: there’s something different about Jesus. He’s not normal. He’s special.
But if that were all – if that was the only reason this adult man had been blind from birth – then Jesus would be cruel, maniacal even, narcissistic, self-serving, willing to allow other people to suffer just to serve his own self-advancement. And what about all those other blind people whom Jesus didn’t heal? What about those sad saps who weren’t lucky enough to be born in the right century or hemisphere to randomly be the subject of Jesus’ disciples’ idle speculation? Why were they born blind? Why did the Tower in Siloam fall and kill 18 people? Why did Pilate murder a group of Galileans in cold blood as they were worshiping God? Why did a pandemic disrupt all our lives? Why is my friend sick? Why did my family member die?
It’s a good question – and implicit in it is a related question: Where is God when these bad things happen? Thankfully, Jesus gives us the answer to that question too: “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking to you.”[2]
You can rightly understand Jesus’ first statement – “This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him”[3] – to mean that this man’s blindness would reveal Jesus’ power, but you’d be wrong if you thought that was all it was meant for. Jesus healed this man’s blindness, not so much so that others would be impressed by Jesus’ power, but so that this formerly blind man could see the Son of Man, i.e. so that he could see his Saviour and believe.
That’s the greater miracle, isn’t it? Jesus could have spent every hour of every day healing every disease and malady known to man, and it would have changed so many people’s lives, but only for 50, 60, 70 years, i.e. however long those people went on to live. When they died, their sense of sight, their ability to walk, their decades of productive and healthy living would do them no good in hell.
That was Jesus’ answer elsewhere in Scripture. When that tower in Siloam fell and killed 18 people, Jesus said, “Do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.”[4]
The truth is we are the sad saps who were unlucky enough not born in the right century or the right hemisphere to randomly be the subject of Jesus’ disciples’ idle speculation. Only, we were born with something far worse than physical blindness. We were born with spiritual blindness.
Here’s a hard and a harsh reality. When bad things happen, “Why?” is absolutely the wrong question, in part because we can’t possibly know the mind of God or the good he intends through things we see as evil. More than that, “Why?” is the wrong question because we have an answer, even if we don’t like it. We deserve the worst this world has to offer, because we daily sin against our God.
And even that little twinge in your heart just now that resists the notion that we deserve bad things – that our children and grandchildren, our friends and loved ones deserve bad things – is evidence of your inborn, spiritual blindness. We are so quick to excuse ourselves, to justify behaviour, to contextualize sin. “What else was I supposed to do?” “If you had only heard the things she said to me, you’d understand.” “I may not be perfect, but at least I’m not … at least I don’t …”
You were supposed to make a better choice. Understanding behaviour doesn’t absolve it. There’s no “may” about it; you’re not perfect, and that’s the problem. And until you see your sin, you cannot see your Saviour. Until you see your sin, Jesus is merely a novelty, a nicety, a handy moral guide or inspiration to try to be better. But that’s not why he came.
Jesus didn’t come to heal every disease and malady known to man. Not then. Not now. He came to open your eyes to the seriousness of your sinful condition and then to close his eyes in death to solve it. There’s no pool we can go to to wash our sins away, but Jesus is as intimate and personal with you today as he was with that formerly blind man then.
Isn’t it strange how Jesus chose to heal the formerly blind man? He could have just said the word, snapped his fingers, and it could have been done. He had done it before. But not here. Here, he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, bent down to put it on his fingers, and stood back up to put it on the man’s eyes. A little bit gross and ugly, I’ll grant you, but tender and personal.
And isn’t that the same thing he did for you? The cross is gross and ugly, but that’s what your sin required, and Jesus didn’t shy away from getting his hands dirty. He got down in your mess and was lifted up to clean you up. He became sin to take your sin away. He gave his life to give you life. And he didn’t do that from a distance. Sure, centuries ago and hemispheres away, but word heard by your ears, water poured on your head, wine and wafer placed in your hand, here and now, so that your eyes could be opened to see the seriousness of your sinful condition but also so that you could see your Saviour.
And when you finally do see Jesus, that changes the way you see life. 6 years ago the world was ending. There were daily death tolls on the news. There was a global toilet paper shortage. But I’ll tell you this. On this day, 6 years ago – March 15, 2020 – churches were limited to gatherings of 50 people at a time. We weren’t even close to having to worry about that back then. Now we would, because by God’s grace, he’s opened your eyes to the seriousness of your sin but also the face of your Saviour. I’ve had so many more real conversations – deep, spiritual conversations – since then because God can use even things that we would consider evil to display his works among us. Not mass healing. Not an eradication of illness (if only). But eyes opened to our need for something better, someone greater, our Saviour Jesus.
And that’s what happened with this formerly blind man too. He went from not knowing the depth of his sin or the face of his Saviour, to standing before the court of the Pharisees and calling them out for their blindness. Spreading the message to his friends and neighbours about what Christ had done for him. This malady became a miracle for other people’s benefit through him. He became a witness for Jesus. And so can we, because now you see your Saviour.
No matter what it is in your life, chances are it happened so that the works of God might be displayed in you or to you, so that the blind can see Jesus. That is what we were, but now we’ve added an adverb to our names too – formerly blind sinners who have seen the light and now see our Saviour everywhere. Amen.
[1] John 9:3
[2] John 9:37
[3] John 9:3
[4] Luke 13:4,5