SOCHEWS

“Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and went and found him. He asked him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” The man said, “Point him out to me, sir, so that I can believe in him.” So Jesus said, “You’re looking right at him. Don’t you recognise my voice?” “Master, I believe,” the man said, and worshipped him. Jesus then said, “I came into the world to bring everything into the clear light of day, making all the distinctions clear, so that those who have never seen will see, and those who made a great pretense of seeing will be exposed as blind.” (John 9:35-39)

Jesus had just healed a man born blind. By merely rubbing spit into dirt, and laying it on the man’s eyes, he could see. And yet, in the face of a miracle, people questioned the man. The Pharisees were indignant that Jesus broke the rules and worked on the Sabbath. Others wondered why Jesus would heal a beggar. Even his own parents wanted nothing to do with their son. Yet, the son echoed all he knew in the chambers of his heart - something transformational had taken place. He was blind, and now he saw. And even after he was called names and thrown out to the streets, he knew something had happened. He could see. He was made whole.

Jesus confounded expectations. He broke long-established Jewish rules, seemed to pick the most unlikely of candidates for healing. It’s fascinating, people’s reaction to his work. Many contented themselves with words of doubt, more interested that Jesus should fit into their box of what a Savior looked like. Others could care less, believed, and worshipped. The blind saw. The lame walked. And the critics carried on.

Sometimes, I wonder what God’s work in my life looks like. On the surface, I wonder if He’s working at all. I catch myself with those same Pharisical expectations - a Saviour who will wipe away all my warts and flaws, imbue me with a faith and a cape to fight back all comers. Instead, here I am, my heart struggling to make sense of the world around, prone to loneliness, self-pity, longing to find a love and courage that’s stronger than the storms, that would last.

I look back at 2011, and it would seem God has worked very little in me. Am I changing the world? Am I at peace, free? Am I connected to a Spirit of hope, a light that shines in the darkest of days? It would seem, more often that not, no. It’s been a hard year, no doubt. Hard to see myself fail at the things I want to succeed in the most. Hard to see others around me fail too.

And yet, God is working. He’s working without shouting from the clouds. He works to open my eyes - to see his wonder, to see my weaknesses, to believe once again. It’s not a work that is immediately recognised. Indeed, most would look at it and scoff. Jesus doesn’t work in that way, c’mon. But what’s important is that once I was blind. And now I see.

I want that. I’m tired of trying to impress others. I don’t want to prove my Christianity. I just want to see all of his goodness in my life, to taste all of his grace in every single moment, to run with the freedom of a child who’s always in his arms. It doesn’t matter if the world casts me aside. Because I will not listen to their voice and criticisms and ideas of living. Because even cast out on the streets, in the midst of dirt, I am at a place where I can be healed and made whole. Not in ivory castles of comfort and independence, oblivious to pain and suffering. But on my knees, begging for mercy, Jesus comes. And those who dare to admit blindness will see colours and life like never before.

Let the blind see.
The lame walk.
The stressed find rest.
In the places of dirt and spit.
In the most unlikely of places.
Because in moments like these,
when I am just begging for help,
Jesus will come.
And I will see.

Father, I cannot admit to know how you work. Yet, I know you do. I have no idea how you’ve worked in my life this year, but you have. In ways I cannot see, in ways others cannot see, but you have. And I’m humbled and grateful.

I thank you for the ups and downs. May I always walk through each day seeing your goodness, your majesty, your love. I am yours. Amen.