Inspired by Mark Driscoll’s message on John 9.
by Todd
If you want to understand my encounter with Jesus you must understand my life from the very beginning. I have not always viewed myself with purpose or been grateful for the life God has given me. Having been blind from birth, I came to accept the fact that I was one of the least of God’s creatures and did not deserve the love that God seemed to readily show others. As a young boy, I wanted so much to be like all the other boys, but my blindness kept me from it. My mother would often try to keep me inside our house, in effort to shelter me form the dangers of the outside world. But I wanted so much to be like every other child. When I did make it out into the public, I could sometimes feel the uneasiness of the people around me. As awkward as this was, it was nothing compared to the mockery of other boys my age who would run up and knock me over, then flee, knowing that I could not catch them or defend myself.
In our culture, it is tradition that when a boy turns 13, he is considered a man and becomes responsible for himself and his own actions. While my parents deeply loved me, they could not give me this celebration, for I was clearly unable to live independent of them. But having a love for God and a desire to be a man of honor and integrity, I tried all that I could to support myself. No matter what I put my hand to, I could not succeed in that society, for my blindness had imprisoned the best of my intentions and rendered me to the life of a beggar. This was the only means by which I could support myself.
During those first years as a beggar, I suffered more with depression and guilt than ever before. Each unanswered plea for money erupted in me a plea to God to make me well, for I was tired of being helpless. I questioned God’s goodness more than ever in my life. It infuriated me when I would run up against other beggars who were able-bodied, but lacked the motivation and responsibility to work. I quickly learned that my begging was the most profitable when I would beg near the temple. For some reason, when people are either going to or coming away from the temple, they feel the most generous, or perhaps feel the most compelled to display their works. But even if their motive was to display their good deeds before others, I was happy to receive their money.
I could often tell when a teacher with his students would come by the temple. I would usually hear questions about the law, or consequences of evil, or behavior on the Sabbath, or such things that only a student would ask. The cadre of students would then be silent while the teacher responded. At times I could sense that my presence would bring a question from one of the students. Usually it had to do with evil or suffering in the world. With self-exaltation in his voice, I would often hear a teacher explain away the infinite workings of God with trite and finite statements. In order to explain the unexplainable, some will grasp at any straw available. At times, the group of “learners” would often hush their voices, as if I could not tell they were there or sense the ridicule of their questions. Little did they know that being blind since birth had given me better than average hearing.
As I sat begging that morning, I once again found myself in the awkward position of being the subject of another student’s question. Only this student was brash enough to directly ask his Teacher why I had been born blind. “Was it because of his sin or his parents’ sin that he was born blind?” I could hear his proud voice laced with mockery. What gall! I know full well that being a son of Adam brings consequences in life, but to say that my blindness was the result of my sin? I was blind at birth! And my parents loved God more than anyone I’ve ever known! In my younger years, I would have responded with a tongue lashing, but I had since grown tired of these foolish questions and only wished now for them to leave me alone.
It was then that I heard His voice for the first time. I could easily tell what was in a man’s heart by the sound of his voice. I would often hear pity, disgust, pride, conceit or smugness. But this time I heard none of those. “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” I had never heard anyone speak this way about me before. Even my parents who loved me more than anyone at times questioned the goodness of God in making me blind. This Teacher was saying something completely different; He was saying that God had allowed my blindness so that He might display His goodness through my life. He gave me words of purpose, not of misfortune or mistake or ridicule. He gave me promise of healing not words of condemnation and guilt. I had never heard anyone say this about me before.
The grit of the sand and pebbles were grounded under His sandals as He knelt before me. I could feel his hot breath on my face. I then heard him gather up some sand into a mound on the ground then spit onto the mound. While I had often been the target of many a man’s spit, I knew that this was different. I knew that He came not with jeers and condemnation, but with love and the power to heal. With one hand on the back of my head He used the other to rub the saliva-sand mixture over my eyes and most of my face. “Go” He said, “wash in the pool of Siloam”. While I had heard the words, I could only sit their stunned by what had just happened. What was this Man doing? Had I misunderstood the love in His voice? Had I just been mocked and left their for others to point and laugh at? I expected laughter, but I heard none. In fact, I had never heard such silence near the temple before. As he helped me to my feet, I felt half confused, yet half anxious. What just happened? Why the pool of Siloam? Was He making sport of me? What was this Man doing?
I began stumbling my way in the direction of the pool. I tried to only travel in the city early in the morning or at evening, for the busyness of the people made it difficult. Among the throngs of people, I was hardly noticed, as was usually the case. With time, the help of landmarks and a few wrong turns, I eventually came to the pool of Siloam. As I crouched down, waving my arms in front of me to feel for the water’s edge, my fingers suddenly felt the coolness of the clean water. As I knelt at the stony ledge, I scooped the cool, clean water up into my face and felt the grimy grit of the sand and water cascade down my chin. The water was so refreshing, I could not help but splash it into my face again and again.
At that moment, the twinge of hope I had felt in that Man’s presence became more real than ever before. As I opened my eyes, I felt the heat of the day in a way I had never felt it before. My eyes literally hurt from the brightness of the sun and the sky and everything around me. Never had I seen such brilliance and depth and beauty in all my life! I began shouting and weeping and singing and shouting again, for I could not contain my excitement!
My excitement had begun to attract the attention of a few passersby who started gathering around me and pointing. Some of them said they had seen me at the temple begging, while others denied that I could ever have been blind. No matter how many times I tried to tell them that I had once been blind, most would not believe me. The people were so highly contested about my identity that they brought me to the religious leaders, hoping to put an end to the debate. But as these men questioned me, I began to see their hatred towards the One who had healed me. Their anger towards Him made me wish I had not see their faces. These were the “men of God” and yet they were the first ones I had ever seen such hatred in.
When they asked me what I thought of Him, I told them I thought He was a prophet, for I did not know any better. They only mocked my reply. Then they sent for my parents. Seeing my mom and dad for the first time made me weep all over again. I looked squarely into my mother’s bright eyes and all we could do was laugh and cry. For the first time, I saw the hands my father had laid over my eyes when I was a child as he pleaded to God for healing. I will never forget the joy we shared at that moment.
But our joy was shattered by the accusatory question of a Pharisee. “Is this your son?” “Is this the one you say was born blind?” “How is it he can see?” With tears and laughter, they affirmed that I was their son, and that I had been born blind, but they did not know how I had been healed. Sensing their anger toward the One who had healed me, they did not want to bring excommunication upon themselves.
The anger I had once felt toward those who mocked me came back as I heard them ridicule my parents and question me on what happened. These were the men who were supposed to love God and serve Him, yet everything I saw of them made me hot with anger. As many had done before, they accused me of sin before I was even born. Their accusation reminded me of the boys who kicked and hit me simply because I was blind and they were not. With arrogant mockery, they elevated their law and ideals above the miraculous work the Man had done in me. Some will do all they can to discredit the miraculous hand of God.
Having been thrown out by the Pharisees, my emotions came full circle. What had started as such a wonderful day was coming to a complete ruin. My eyes had been healed, and yet they revealed the hatred for the very One who brought me healing. As I shuffled down the street, trying to process all that had happened, a Man approached me from the crowds. The manner of his walk showed love and confidence and I somehow sensed that we had met before.
As soon as He spoke, I recognized Him as the One who brought me healing!
“Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He asked.
“Yes” I responded. “Tell me who He is”!
“You now see Him, He is now speaking with you” He replied.
At this, my knees buckled and I fell weeping at His feet. I had never known such love shown by another and I could only cling to his ankles and worship Him. The truth He spoke gave weight to the experience of my healing and it lead to a culmination of laughter mixed with tears. I will never forget the satisfaction I felt that moment as I worshipped the Son of Man who came with healing in his hands.
In the months that followed that day, I devoted myself to the teaching of the One they call Jesus. I began to understand that the physical blindness I once had was not as bad as the spiritual blindness which many choose. I eagerly told others of His teaching and of the work He did in me. Some had the faith of children and believed, some did not.
Less than six months after the day of my healing, those same Pharisees falsely accused my Lord Jesus under the cover of night. Their accusations eventually led to his crucifixion on a Roman Cross. The very hands that brought me both physical and spiritual healing were pierced, so that I might live. The God-made-Man was killed so that I might be given life.
When I tell of my Lord, I like to share the words of the prophet Isaiah, written 700 years before Jesus had yet been born:
Isa 29:18-24
“And on that day the deaf shall hear words of a book, and out of {their} gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see. The afflicted also shall increase their gladness in the LORD, and the needy of mankind shall rejoice in the Holy One of Israel. For the ruthless will come to an end, and the scorner will be finished, indeed all who are intent on doing evil will be cut off; Who cause a person to be indicted by a word, and ensnare him who adjudicates at the gate, and defraud the one in the right with meaningless arguments.
Isa 61:1-3
The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and freedom to prisoners; To proclaim the favorable year of the LORD, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, To grant those who mourn {in} Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.
