Category: disability

Blind From Birth

John 9:1-7

As he was walking along, he saw a man blind from birth.

2 “Master,” his disciples asked him, “why was this man born blind? Was it a result of his own sins or those of his parents?”

3 “Neither,” Jesus answered. “But to demonstrate the power of God. 4 All of us must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the one who sent me, for there is little time left before the night falls and all work comes to an end. 5 But while I am still here in the world, I give it my light.”

6 Then he spat on the ground and made mud from the spittle and smoothed the mud over the blind man’s eyes, 7 and told him, “Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam” (the word Siloam means “Sent”). So the man went where nd washed and came back seeing!

Up to now I’ve tried to approach these posts from the first person viewpoint. Ihoped to understand those who met face-to-face with Jesus. I wanted to grasp what they were seeing through their own eyes. But I intend with this post to revert back to a more traditional approach to this passage.

First, we’re introduced to a man who is blind from birth.

I can’t even imagine what that would be like (just as he probably could imagine having sight). I’ve been told that he probably didn’t have a “dream” life–that requires having seen images (a dog, a tree, a mean person) and this wasn’t available to him. He never saw the color red, or seen a mountain. (He didn’t have the circuitry.)

I suppose we can only imagine what blindness like this would be.

Somehow I’ve come to an idea that this represents fallen men–we’re spiritually blind to the workings and truths of Jesus’ Kingdom. It seems a pretty good explanation of each of us–“blind from birth.”

Secondly, notice the response of the disciples who first met this unfortunate man. They don’t see his needs, rather they want to know the theology behind this. Perhaps that’s how we respond much of the time–we don’t see the needs, we only want to know the reasons. We’re not wise or discerning enough to see what’s going on–in short we’re not equipped to love or show mercy. (We haven’t got the circuitry.)

Perhaps this is how we operate as immature Christians.

We don’t engage the need, but rather we like having great theology over understanding compassion. If we really don’t love needy people, we miss so much. We don’t ever grow up. It’s easy to philosophize–it’s hard to get down and serve and really love others.

It’s funny but Jesus declares Himself to be the light of the world while speaking to the man who is born blind.

Third, we discover the gentle mercy that Jesus has when He meets needy people. Now the Lord does accommodate His followers, but not at the expense of engaging the need of the moment. Jesus is full of compassion–most especially when He meets broken people–and as His followers, we must grasp this.

Good theology is not the primary calling of Jesus’ followers.

As I mature in Christ I’m learning (slowly) that people are His real focus. He has come, not to theologize or philosophize, but to meet needs! Sure the reasons why become clearer, but that really isn’t Jesus’ primary goal. People are, not having impeccable theology.

Classes in systematic theology are good, but soup kitchens are better.

The miracle happens, and Jesus’ love and desire to restore this man is ‘front and center.’ The Lord’s methodology is interesting. Spit and mud, wiped on the blind man’s eyes. In Genesis we discover that God made man out of dirt and dust of the ground. Perhaps what He’s doing here mirrors that work.

And it’s also important to understand that Jesus never performs the exact same healing in the exact same way. For some reason He ‘tailors’ His work to the individuals deepest need. I suppose He doesn’t want us to grab a hold of a formula, as that’s what we want to have.

The story is primarily about a blind man’s healing.

It’s not theology, and it certainly isn’t about what is proper and acceptable. We really must understand this, and we really need to understand the tremendous mercy and power of God to both heal and restore.

Image: MCCC. Text from the “Living Bible,” published by Tyndale House

I’m a Riddle to Myself

They tell me that courage is to do something that frightens you. That it is being strong in the face of pain and suffering. If that’s true (and I suspect that it is) then I haven’t arrived yet. I’m a spiritual “chicken.” I’m no eagle yet.

It seems at times I’ve been ‘gifted’ with cowardice! 😁

I struggle at times with chronic depression, and am physically handicapped. I have lost the use of my right arm and hand. I no longer have any balance and must use a cane. This is due to a brain tumor I had in 2002. I’ve had over a dozen head injuries which only has compounded the ataxia.

I admit I sometimes get angry with God. I also get spiritually confused as I try to walk like Jesus wants me too. My frustration with Him is all foolishness when I think of all He has given me. I pretend at these times, and I do it well I think.

I’m also afflicted with a terrible disease called “Facebookitist.”

I find that this blog I write sometimes covers up a multitude of my own sins. You see and read what I want you to see. I polish up things to preserve a modicum of spiritual decency. I want you to see me as faithful and triumphant. A real disciple, (but alas, that’s often a bit of a stretch).

“When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games.”

“To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark. In admitting my shadow side I learn who I am and what God’s grace means.”

“As Thomas Merton put it, “A saint is not someone who is good but who experiences the goodness of God.”

Brennan Manning

I once was confronted by a younger believer, “I don’t know you, brother, you’re like two different people.” And honestly I’m sure he was right. I am, and it disturbs and saddens me.

And what is the truth often scares me. I’m often a spiritual coward who tries to speak the things that are real and true. (A clown trying very hard to play “Hamlet.”) I occasionally realize I will write something that’s spiritually false, and that scares me. “Kyrie Eleison.” God have mercy on me, a sinner.

I think all I want is God’s stamp of approval. “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

And perhaps yours as well?

I realize that I end up wanting truth which is no small thing. Many lies must be stripped away and that seems to take time. It’s like scraping away layers of varnish on a table you’re working on. I’m pretty much coated with sin. I desperately need the truth to survive.

All I really know is that I love Jesus, and I seek to be filled with His Spirit. I keep coming, over and over, to Him. He holds on to me.

“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.”

     C.S. Lewis

“Jesus comes not for the super-spiritual but for the wobbly and the weak-kneed who know they don’t have it all together, and who are not too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.”

Brennan Manning

Living With Chronic Pain

Chronic Pain

Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.

Have we been cursed?

Pain fills our life. We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 is our Psalm. Nothing is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It’s pain under a microscope. That Psalm is yours.

For my soul is full of troubles,

    and my life draws near to Sheol.

I am counted among those who go down to the pit;

    I am a man who has no strength,

Psalm 88:3-4

I love you,

Bryan

Bethesda, 31 A.D.

healing-the-lame

“Afterward Jesus returned to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish holy days. 2 Inside the city, near the Sheep Gate, was the pool of Bethesda, with five covered porches. 3 Crowds of sick people—blind, lame, or paralyzed—lay on the porches.5 One of the men lying there had been sick for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked him,“Would you like to get well?”

7 “I can’t, sir,” the sick man said, “for I have no one to put me into the pool when the water bubbles up. Someone else always gets there ahead of me.”

8 Jesus told him, “Stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!”

9 Instantly, the man was healed! He rolled up his sleeping mat and began walking! But this miracle happened on the Sabbath,

John 5:1-9, NLT

We were following Jesus and He led us to the pool of Bethesda. A crowd gathered quickly, but I jostled myself right up front. We stood waiting, we pretty much knew something big was going to happen. And it did. I can never be the same, after what I saw. This is my simple story.

So much was happening, and as I watched I realized that so much escapes me. I can’t take it all in. But when I decide to watch Jesus, I quickly become aware of what is important, what is real. It starts to make sense. The chaos of the moment becomes calm. At least it does when He takes charge.

There were hundreds of sick people camped out. They are laying under the roofs, with their thin mats. The smell alone was really bad, all were unwashed and some with putrid and festering sores. Dirty bandages are used over and over, and shared with all.

Finally, all are watching Jesus, they become quiet wondering what He will say. We’re all pretty curious. We see Jesus as He walks directly into this ugly field of suffering people. He doesn’t hesitate or flinch.

It is almost like He is at home in this dreadful place.

Just to have a religious teacher visit Bethesda is rare. They never come. And today is the Sabbath (and a special feast day at that) and that alone makes it impossible. And yet Jesus is here, and that somehow is wonderful.

Jesus stops to talk with a man who is an ‘old-timer’ here in this horrible place of pain. This man had been sitting here for almost 40 years, and that is a long, long time. Jesus speaks. “Do you want to get well?” Jesus waits quietly.

“Sir, when the water is stirred, I don’t have anybody to put me in the pool. By the time I get there, somebody else is already in.” The man explains. He has an excuse that seems like a reason. Nothing has ever gone right– ‘I always miss out, and I can’t find anyone to help me.’ And I suppose that this is the world of the blind, the crippled, the paralyzed in Israel. They are confined to Bethesda, with the weak hope of finally being healed. I don’t think that this is how it was meant to work.

This man was horribly discouraged.  It was then Jesus said, “Get up, take your bedroll, start walking.” And this very crippled man was healed on the spot. No ‘hocus-pocus’, no incantations, no magic dust or rubbing of sacred bones. Nothing.

He was healed by a few spoken words.

I cannot emphasize my own astonishment enough. It shook all of us to the core. We were all stunned, and undone. The crowds, and all the sick and the paralyzed just stopped and stared. There are so few moments in life, just like this. We just looked at each other sort of stunned.

The ramifications of what we all had witnessed were staggering. Shocked, we turned to each other, and a great fear fell on us like a heavy blanket. The crowd did not disperse, we were completely shocked, and pretty much speechless.

For years that sense of awe has never left me.

I don’t really listen to the scorners anymore– they simply have no idea. It completely changed my life. I was never the same after that.

“For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.”

Luke 19:10

Kyrie elesion,  (Lord, have mercy on us.)

Bryan
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