The Welcome Valley Reader
Dealing with the Evidence
He sat in perpetual
darkness as he plied his trade. It probably wasn’t his trade of choice, but his
life offered few options. He was blind. He lived in an economy dominated by
agriculture, and farming didn’t come easily for blind men. The technology that
allows sightless people to pursue commercial careers today hadn’t been invented
yet. Even living in a city famed for scholarship, he couldn’t pursue a
scholastic career as Braille hadn’t been invented either, and scholars weren’t
particularly interested in making a way for the blind. He lived in the ancient
Middle East, and even such basic aids as dark glasses and white canes lay far in
the future. This particular man really had one career choice. He could sit on
the street and beg for handouts.
Obviously, a man with his
disability would be held in higher esteem than the vagrant begging for enough
change to finance his next drinking binge. Jerusalem, the place this man called
home, would have provided an excellent place to catch people at their most
generous moments. It was a city built on religion, and religion, then as now,
encouraged helping the poor. Still, there were drawbacks. For one thing, very
few people really enjoy being asked for money. The selfishness that is part of
human nature ensures this reluctance. Another problem was prejudice. In this
particular blind man’s world, bad things didn’t happen to good people. Well, yes
they did, just as they do today, but the popular mindset was that such tragedies
as blindness represented God’s judgment.
He knew all about popular
theology. He seems to have been associated with a synagogue, the religious
gathering place of the Jewish faithful when they weren’t worshipping in the
temple. Somewhat similar to a Christian church, the synagogue is a place where
people gather for Bible reading, teaching, and religious discussion. He would
have known all about the idea that blindness represented God’s judgment. Sure
it’s possible that his friends watched what they said when he was around. But
they couldn’t have kept him from what seemed to them all common
knowledge--blindness meant punishment from God
What we don’t know is how
he understood the situation. Did he spend hour after hour sitting on the hot
street wondering just which sin had brought him blindness? Since he was born
that way, did he wonder if God had singled out something he would do later in
life and judge him in advance? Did he wonder if maybe his parents had goofed up?
His grandparents? Did he in his inner heart know that he—and they—weren’t a
whole lot worse than anyone else and just leave the reason for his blindness an
unexplained mystery? After all, he didn't have a lot of science or medical
technology to suggest other possibilities.
Then, one day a group of
people came down the street. At the center of their attention was a famous
rabbi, or religious teacher. Jesus of Nazareth had just gotten run out of the
temple by jealous officials. He lived up to the religion these officials taught,
and they didn’t. He was disinterested in politics, despite enough popularity to
start something big. Political power was one of the things they’d traded their
souls for, and they didn’t like popular people from outside the machine.
Secretly, these outwardly religious men planned to eliminate the rabbi from a
backcountry town called Nazareth. They’d almost managed to start a riot against
Him in the temple this day, but Jesus had slipped out and gone His way.
Now, as He walked along
surrounded by a crowd of admiring and curious people, He passed the blind man
who sat begging. One of the crowd asked a theological question. "Who
sinned--this man or his parents for him to have been born blind?"
[Quotations are not necessarily exactly from
Scripture unless accompanied by a Scripture reference.]
Did the questioner have
the sense to lower his voice, or did he just assume that a blind man couldn’t
hear either? History doesn’t tell us.
History does, however,
give us Jesus’ response to the question. "Neither this man sinned nor his
parents." Now Jesus wasn’t teaching sinless perfection. He knew all too well the
human bent for failing to live up to God’s expectations. What he did mean was
that neither the blind man nor his parents were exceptionally worse than anyone
else. The blindness was not God’s judgment. Then, Jesus added, "He is blind so
the work of God can be shown in his life."
Again, assuming the blind
man heard, it is interesting to ponder his response. Did he suddenly feel a
great love for a holy man who refused to condemn him? Did hearing that somehow
his misery helped glorify God make the blindness seem almost good? Did the idea
that God would make him blind on purpose leave him frustrated? We aren’t told.
But Jesus wasn’t playing
the fatalistic games people sometimes play when they shrug off suffering as the
"will of God." He knew God’s glory to be a good thing and not just in some vague
heavenly sense. He intended that the glory of God would bring joy to the life of
the blind man. Famous for showing God’s power through supernatural actions,
Jesus proceeded to cure the man on the spot.
As much as we study the
life of Jesus Christ, we still aren’t big enough to comprehend Him. He raised
the dead by merely speaking to them. He had been known to heal the sick by
proclaiming them well from a distance. Why He chose to spit in the dust, use the
liquid to mix mud, rub that mud on the man’s eyes, and then send the man to wash
it away is something we don’t understand. Maybe he was reminding the man that
even people who aren’t particularly sinful—morally dirty as it were—still need
to be forgiven—or spiritually washed. Maybe the extraordinary method of healing
was a way of telling the man that he needed to identify with the One Who was
healing him. Maybe sending him to wash was a test of faith.
In any event, the man did
what he was told and suddenly found that he could see. Never before had he seen.
He’d been born blind. He didn’t know what sight was. Now he could see!
In modern times, surgeons
have given sight to blind people. Often the first experience of sight hurts.
Babies begin life with rather blurry, uncomprehending vision and learn to
interpret what they see. When started in adulthood, this process is distracting,
even painful. But Jesus wasn’t a surgeon, and the man was given instant ability
to see as if he’d grown up normally. It wasn’t a medical or surgical cure. It
was a miracle done by a Man Who claimed to have come from Heaven. It was totally
beyond the work of ancient medicine, and actually beyond the work of modern
medicine. Assuming that it really happened, this miracle not only made the blind
man see, but it made an enormous statement about the One Who performed it.
Did it really happen? The
question naturally spread through the neighborhood. After all, miracles have
never been common. First, people debated among themselves. Was this guy really the
blind beggar they all knew, or were those who claimed a healing jumping to
conclusions? Finally, the man Jesus had healed set the record straight. "I’m the
man." When the neighbors accepted the reality that indeed the impossible had
occurred, they asked, "What happened?"
"A man named Jesus made
mud, rubbed it on my eyes, and told me to go wash in the pool of Siloam. I went
and washed and received sight."
The neighbors took the
seeing man to some of the religious leadership, the group who were hostile to
Jesus. The leaders in question were of a political-religious party called the
Pharisees. Some likely held official office, but all Pharisees were leaders of
sorts. Specialist in religious law and tradition they were the kind of people
that left everyone else feeling below par spiritually. They represented the
religious elite.
And even the Pharisees
struggled with that question: did it really happen? They saw the reported
miracle not as a wonderful gift to a handicapped person, but as a threat to the
status quo. If Jesus had done the impossible in God’s name, they as religious
people, had to take Him seriously. Taking Him seriously was something they
didn’t want to do.
They started out at a
theoretical level. Jesus had cured the man on the Sabbath day. No good Jew did
any work on the Sabbath. Some argued that since Jesus had cured a man on that
day, he couldn’t be empowered by God. God didn’t support sin. Others argued that
since he’d done the obviously impossible, he had to be of God. God, after all,
had done the work. God wasn’t subject to the law about the Sabbath.
They asked the formerly
blind man what he thought of this Jesus.
"He is a prophet," came
the response. Prophets, of course were the special spokesmen of God. Jewish
history was rich with stories of men like Moses and Elijah who spoke for God and
performed an occasional miracle.
But the elite refused to
believe. Jesus wasn’t on their list of acceptable people; therefore, he couldn’t
have the power of God. They decided the whole thing had been a fraud. Either the
blind man had been a carefully planted actor or the seeing man was.
But the issue was too
compelling. They couldn’t just make their official statements of unbelief and
end the matter. Too many people had seen, and besides, the man who’d been born
blind was a local resident. It was just too hard to scream a few doubts and make
it all go away. They had to prove their point. Determined, they called in the
man’s parents.
His parents, too,
belonged to the synagogue. They were also aware of ecclesiastical politics. It
was no secret to them that the local leaders had already agreed: "If anyone
admits to believing that this Jesus is the Christ (the Son of God among other
things) we are going to excommunicate him from our synagogue." The parents knew
and feared the rejection.
The Pharisees asked, "Is
this your son who was born blind?"
They responded. "This is
our son who was born blind. We know that. We also know that he can see now. That
is all we know. How it happened is beyond us. He is of age. Ask him." There.
They had mostly told the truth, stretching it only in their professed ignorance.
They were still members of the synagogue.
So the clergy called in
the formerly blind man. There was a difference in the recent beggar and the
local dignitaries. He had come into contact with Jesus of Nazareth. His life was
changed, and he was a believer. They, of course, were doubters and doubters by
choice. Doubters by choice can be obnoxious. "Give God the credit," they told
the blind man. "The man who healed you is a sinner."
"Whether he’s a sinner or
not, I know one thing," came the response. "I was blind. Now I see."
"What did He do?"
His patience grew thin.
"I already told you. Do you want to be His followers too?"
The dignitaries
responded. "You are His follower. We are Moses’ followers. We know Moses came
from God. Where this guy comes from, we don’t know."
The former beggar grew
bold in the face of his superiors. "Why, this is marvelous! You don’t know where
Jesus came from? He healed my eyes. Never in history has anyone cured a man who
was born blind. He could work this miracle—we all know that God doesn’t do
miracles for sinners—and you don’t know where He came from?"
But loyalty to his
Benefactor carried its price. He’d admitted to believing that Jesus was a
servant of God. "You were altogether born in sin," they declared. "And you’re
teaching us?" They excommunicated him.
But he’d identified with
Jesus Christ, the One Who promises not to forsake His friends. Jesus came and
found him. Jesus soon raised a question: "Do you believe on the Son of God?"
The man He’d healed
answered. "Who is He, Lord, that I might believe on him?"
"You have seen Him, and
He is talking with you."
Jesus had claimed to be
the Son of God. In that setting, it was the same as claiming to be the
long-promised national deliverer, the Christ; the rightful king; and yes, God
Himself. It was now up to the formerly blind man. He had a choice.
The experts refused to
believe that God had worked the special miracle of his sight through Jesus
Christ. They’d suggested that no miracle had occurred. When that suggestion
failed, they’d labeled the event beyond explanation. One thing was constant. The
people in the know chose not to believe in the One Who called Himself "the Son
of God." They’d also chosen to reject anyone who did believe. The best of expert
testimony demanded that he answer that question "Do you believe on the Son of
God?" with an educated "No."
But something else
demanded a different answer. He had been hopelessly and permanently blind.
Jesus, in the name of God, had caused him to see. He’d experienced the kind of
goodness and power that could only come from the Son of God. He’d experienced
them in his own life, and the newness of that experience hadn’t even had time to
wear off. Whatever the experts said, his inner being had come into contact with
a force that could only be described with that phrase "the Son of God."
"Do you believe on the
Son of God?" If Jesus is the Son of God, believing means more healing, more
life, and in the end, to be considered also a child of God. Not believing will
keep the neighborhood off his case. It’s a choice. The evidence is already in
hand. It is, in part, a question of surrender. Is Jesus merely a mysterious
miracle worker, or is He the Son of God? There are big implications to this
choice, and he—as does each of us—must decide.
"Do you believe on the
Son of God?"
He answered. "Lord, I
believe."
***
What about you? Only the
radical or uninformed will deny that Jesus Christ was an actual, historical
person. But what to make of that history is filled with controversy. Some may
just shrug it all off. They barely believe in God, why push it with belief in a
man who was also God come to earth? Others are embarrassed by scholarly
doubts. Whatever they know about Jesus Christ, they can’t break free of the
ideas spouted by some religious professionals. Still others are repulsed by the
realization that the Son of God has the right to tell them how to live.
Yet, the evidence is all
around. Millions of people claim to have received spiritual life from Jesus
Christ. While they aren’t perfect, the difference is real. The very teachings of
Jesus resonate with what we know to be right and good. The fact that He remains
a powerful force around the world two thousand years after his death tells us
that this is no ordinary man.
Ever since Jesus died,
was buried, and stepped out of His grave alive, people have been confronted with
that same question. "Do you believe on the Son of God?"
You probably weren’t born
blind. You probably didn’t get your sight back as a miracle. But the question,
and the evidence are still before you. "Do you believe on the Son of God?"
Will
you believe?
And many other signs
truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this
book: But these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name. –John
20:30-31
For God so loved the
world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him
should not perish, but have everlasting life. —John 3:16
For information on how
you can believe on the Son of God, click here:
How to Have a Relationship with God
This story is in the public domain and may be copied and distributed freely.
How to Have a Relationship with God
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