The Gradual Opening of Spiritual Eyes

The man healed of his blindness now can see things that those who always had their sight cannot see. What do people of faith see that remains unseen to people who have no faith? What progress have you experienced in your faith? Can you see and understand things now that you could not before even though you have always had faith? Can you explain the progression in your faith?

A Reflection based on John 9 and Ephesians 5: Reading John 9, I am struck by the contrast between physical sight and spiritual insight. The Pharisees have perfect vision, yet they are utterly blind to who Jesus is because their rigid system of belief acts like a cataract. The formerly blind man, however, undergoes a slow evolution of sight. First, Jesus is just "the man called Jesus," then "a prophet," then finally, "Lord," worthy of worship.

Those with faith don't necessarily see different objects in the world than those without faith; we look at the same news headlines, the same suffering, and the same sunrises. But faith, acting as the "light in the Lord" mentioned in Ephesians 5, illuminates the meaning behind those things. Where unbelief might see random coincidence, faith sees providence. Where unbelief sees hopeless suffering, faith sees a space where God’s works might be revealed (John 9:3), even if the timeline is obscure.

In my own life, even having grown up with faith, I realize I spent years with "blurry vision." I used to see God primarily as a cosmic rule-enforcer—much like the Pharisees worried about Sabbath regulations. My progress in faith has been a movement from seeing God as a Transactional Judge to seeing Him as a Transformative Healer.

I understand now that "always having faith" doesn't mean "always having clarity." Like the blind man, my progression wasn't instantaneous upon first meeting Jesus. It required interrogation, challenges from the outside world, and a willingness to say, "One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see," even when I couldn't explain the theology behind it. The progression of my faith has been moving from knowing about Jesus to actually trusting Him when the lights go out.

The Pain of Exclusion and the Savior Who Seeks Us

The Questions: Were there times in your experience when you felt like an outsider? Were there times when you did not even feel loved by your own family members? Were there times when even your faith community was not supportive of you? Have you had the experience of having been sought out by Christ for personal reassurance and consolation? How did Christ reach out to you? Were there people in this?

A Reflection based on John 9 and 1 Samuel 16: The narrative arc of the blind man in John 9 is tragic before it is triumphant. He goes from being a marginalized beggar to being healed, only to be immediately abandoned by his fearful parents and then excommunicated by his religious community. He is utterly alone because he experienced God’s grace.

This resonates deeply. While I haven’t faced that extreme level of rejection, I know the feeling of being an outsider in a faith community that values conformity over honest questioning. There have been times when my interpretation of Scripture, or my embrace of certain marginalized groups, led to a distinct cooling of relationships within my "church family." It is a profound disorientation to feel spiritually homeless in the very place supposed to be home.

Furthermore, 1 Samuel 16 reminds me that even in families, we look at "outward appearances" and miss the heart. I have felt overlooked by family members who valued different metrics of success than the ones I was pursuing.

Yet, the most beautiful verse in John 9 is verse 35: "Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him..." Jesus didn't just heal him and move on; He circled back when the man was most isolated.

In my own seasons of being an outsider, Christ has sought me out for reassurance, almost always using other people as His hands and feet. When my previous church community pulled away, Christ reached out through a single friend who refused to shun me, taking me to coffee and saying, "I see you, and God sees you." That physical presence was the reassurance of Christ, reminding me that while religious institutions might expel people, the Good Shepherd goes looking for the ones shoved outside the gate.

Identifying and Healing Our Collective Blindness

The Questions: Can you list some of the “blindness” that still afflicts our society, the world in which we live? Is there some “blindness” even in the Church community? What would you like to see healed by Jesus so that your environment might be more faithful to God’s purposes? Do you, perhaps, have a role in that healing?

A Reflection based on John 9, Ephesians 5, and 1 Samuel 16: The scriptures for this reflection are a powerful diagnostic tool for our current world. 1 Samuel 16 warns us against the societal blindness of judging by appearances—valuing the wealthy, the attractive, and the loud over the "man after God's own heart." Our society is deeply afflicted by the blindness of materialism and the polarization that refuses to see the humanity in a political opponent. We are asleep, as Ephesians 5 suggests, participating in "unfruitful works of darkness" by ignoring systemic injustices because comforting them is inconvenient.

Tragically, the deepest blindness often exists within the religious community, mirroring the Pharisees in John 9. The most dangerous blindness is the arrogant certainty that "we see." We see this in the Church today when dogma is used as a weapon rather than a medicine, or when we are more concerned with maintaining institutional power than caring for the vulnerable victims of abuse within our walls. We are blind when we think our specific cultural expression of Christianity is the only valid one.

I would like to see Jesus heal our collective inability to listen. I want Him to heal the blindness that makes us defensive when our privilege is challenged.

Do I have a role in that healing? Ephesians 5:8 insists on it: "Live as children of light." We cannot just point out the darkness; we must actively expose it by shining light. My role is small but vital: it is the discipline of constantly checking my own vision. Am I judging by appearances (1 Samuel 16)? Am I so certain of my theology that I miss the actual person standing in front of me (John 9)? My role in healing the environment is to first let Jesus heal my own hypocritical blindness, so that I can see others not as ideological enemies, but as fellow blind beggars in need of the same light I have received.