When Blindness Meets the Light
There are different kinds of blindness. Some are physical. Others are harder to spot and far more dangerous.
John 9 tells the story of a man who was blind from birth and a group of people who could see just fine, at least physically. What Jesus exposes in this chapter is that the greatest blindness is not the inability to see with our eyes, but the refusal to see with our hearts.
The story opens with a familiar question. Jesus’ disciples see the blind man and ask, “Who sinned?” In their minds, suffering always needed a culprit. Someone had to be blamed. Either the man had done something wrong, or his parents had. That was the framework they were used to.
Jesus completely disrupts that way of thinking.
He tells them this man’s blindness is not about assigning blame. It is about revealing God’s work. Instead of asking “Who caused this?” Jesus reframes the moment and asks, in effect, “What is God going to do through this?”
That shift matters. We live in a world that wants quick explanations for pain. We either carry guilt for our suffering or anger toward someone else. Jesus invites something different. He invites trust. Not trust that pain is good, but trust that God is present and active even in the middle of it.
Then Jesus does something unexpected. He spits on the ground, makes mud, and places it on the man’s eyes. It is messy. It is uncomfortable. It is not the method anyone would have chosen. But obedience follows. The man goes, washes, and comes back seeing.
When people notice the change, confusion follows. Some doubt it is really him. Others want an explanation. Religious leaders interrogate him, not to celebrate healing, but to discredit the one who healed him.
The man’s response is refreshingly simple. He does not argue theology. He does not pretend to have answers he does not have. He simply says, “I was blind, and now I see.”
That sentence becomes his testimony.
As the chapter continues, the contrast grows sharper. The man who once begged on the side of the road becomes increasingly clear about who Jesus is. The religious leaders, confident in their knowledge, become more defensive and more blind.
This is one of the great warnings of John 9. It is possible to know Scripture, enforce rules, and still miss the work of God standing right in front of you. Pride keeps people blind far more effectively than ignorance ever could.
Eventually, the healed man is cast out. Rejected by the religious system, he is found by Jesus. That detail matters. Jesus always seems to move toward the ones pushed aside.
Jesus asks him a simple question: “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” When Jesus reveals Himself, the man responds with worship. Not debate. Not performance. Worship.
That is how the story ends. Or better yet, that is how it begins.
John 9 reminds us that spiritual sight starts with humility. Only those willing to admit their blindness can truly see. Those who cling to self-confidence remain stuck, even when the light is right in front of them.
This story also reframes identity. The man is still poor. Still without social power. Still misunderstood. But the truest thing about him has changed. He is no longer defined by what he lacks. He is defined by what God has done.
That invitation still stands.
Jesus meets those willing to say, “I cannot see without You.” He opens eyes, not just to truth, but to grace, purpose, and life itself.
And when sight comes, the natural response is worship.