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Blind Eyes "See"

“One thing I do know, that though I WAS blind, now I see!” John 9:25

God is writing a story of His grace in each individual life. I was reflecting on some of the stories that must have been told when families gathered for Thanksgiving (Passover) and camped out under the stars together (Feast of Booths) and met together on the way to and from worship services on those days when Jesus was walking among them:

  • “You can’t believe it! I was scared to death to do it, but when He told me to, He said it in such a way that I didn’t feel like I had a choice. So I dipped out some of the fresh water, put it into one of the freshly washed goblets, and took it to my boss. I sort of cringed when he lifted it to his lips, expecting to be the victim of his pent up frustration over the depleted festive beverage supply. But instead, he got this shocked look on his face and said, ‘Why were we holding back on the best vintage?! We ALWAYS serve the best first!’ I never told him, but what I gave him was water, not wine. You should have been there!”
  • “I was SO scared. We had taken him to the best doctors in our city. The specialists at Mayo’s Clinic (doctors of Capernaum) had done literally everything they could do. There was nothing more. They sent us home telling us to just make him as comfortable as we could for the last few hours of his life. I was desperate! Someone said that the carpenter from Nazareth was back in the area. In Cana they thought. Cana? Where in the world is Cana?! I could have sent someone else…any one of the staff would have been more than willing to do the 25 miles up there. But this was my son! I had to go to Him myself. I HAD to get Him to come back home to Capernaum. So I kissed my boy, hugged my bride, and saddled up my fastest ride. When I got there and was able to get His attention, He sort of started a debate about ‘not believing’ and ‘you people always want another sign’ and such. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, but my boy was dying! Then He said to me, ‘Go home. Your little boy is going to live.’ He didn’t send me away or whatever. But He sent me home with so much positive encouragement I just felt it was ok to go. I can’t tell you what I was thinking when I saw my main manager coming toward me on the road home. I knew that it was bad news. I was bracing myself to hear that my little boy had died. But instead…’Your son lives!’ I was so overwhelmed with joy! I KNEW this One was the Son of God. I totally believed. My wife believed. My employees believed. My whole HOUSE believed!”
  • “I had been there so long I had totally given up hope. Most days, especially on the ‘holy days’ when the streets were extra full of religiously serious people, I would be at my normal corner, holding out my hand and hoping for some gifts of kindness. But on that morning I had stayed under the shade of the pool-side roof. I was certain that even IF the waters were stirred, several others would beat me to them. But this had become my ‘home’ and those suffering in various ways like myself had become my friends. Anyway, I was just sitting there with my shriveled up legs and He came right up to me…right up to ME! And He said, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ I have to admit…I was quite offended by that. My initial reaction was that I had been laughed at, taunted, or ignored by enough people already, not to have a perfectly healthy guy walk into a place filled with sick people and ask such an insensitive question! But then He said, ‘Stand up and walk.’ For some reason I tried the impossible. Now, I knew it was impossible because so many times in the early days I had tried to do just that. In fact, sometimes in my dreams I saw myself walking, running even. But then when I woke up…just a dream. But this time I pulled my legs under me, pressed up with my arms and…I WALKED! I mean, I really WALKED!!! For 38 years I had been carried from place to place. But this time I really WALKED! I won’t go into what the rude religious dudes had to say about me and about Him. I didn’t even know who He was. But He made me walk!”
  • “Bread. Lots and lots and lots of bread! I’m not kidding. There must have been over 15,000 people sitting on that hill and He gave everyone of us bread! And fish. Lots of fish. All the fish you could eat. And bread. All the bread you could eat! And it all started when one of the men who hangs out with Jesus saw my basket and asked me if I would give my lunch to Jesus. Wow! There was SO much bread!”

If I told you my story
You would hear Hope that wouldn't let go
And if I told you my story
You would hear Love that never gave up
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life, but it wasn't mine

If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him

If I told you my story
You would hear victory over the enemy
And if I told you my story
You would hear freedom that was won for me
And if I told you my story
You would hear Life overcome the grave

If I should speak then let it be
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long

For the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell
Of the grace that is greater than all my sin
Of when justice was served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him
Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long

“I only knew what my mom might look like from the times when I was little and would run my fingers across her face…her cheeks…her chin…her nose…her lips…her eyes. I loved the feel of the sun when it warmed my face and tried to imagine what a flower might look like when my dad would do his best to describe it to me. But…I really couldn’t imagine it. I had never seen it. Or him. Or her. Or the sun. It happened on what seemed like it was just like every other day in my grown up life. I found my way to my favorite spot and waited for the sporadic kindness of folks headed to the Temple. Then I heard what I had heard all to often. These guys started discussing the reason for my blindness. Was it MY fault for some sin?! Are you kidding? I was BORN blind! How can a baby sin before its born? Or my parents’ sin? Seriously?! You think God would make me live my whole life in the dark because of something my dad or mom did? I didn’t know who they were but to them I was just a nameless object to begin a theological debate. But then a hand touched me. At first it seemed like an invasion of my space…someone disrespecting my bubble. And to add insult to my injured feelings, He smeared mud on my eyes! Then He told ME to stumble and stagger my way down the street to a pool and wash off my face. I didn’t have any idea what was about to happen. But I knew that someone else’s spit and mud all over what were supposed to be my eyes didn’t smell that good and probably didn’t make me very approachable or attractive. So I went and I began to rinse when…“One thing I do know, that though I WAS blind, now I see!” John 9:25

So what is YOUR story?

See you Sunday, Church!
Pastor Tom