04 Lent 08
March 2, 2008

Psalms 23:1-6 (NRSV)
John 9:1-41 (NRSV)

Blind Ambition

I’m going to ask you to keep your hymnbook on your lap this morning, because we’re going to do some singing. I’ll explain why at the end of today’s sermon. Let’s start with I Am Thine, O Lord, No. 601, first verse.

I am thine, O Lord, I have heard thy voice, and it told thy love to me; but I
long to rise in the arms of faith, and be closer drawn to thee. Draw me
nearer, nearer, blessed Lord, to the cross where thou hast died; draw me nearer,
nearer, nearer, blessed Lord, to thy precious, bleeding side.

Let’s go nearer, nearer, nearer to this story from the gospel of John. We begin with the disturbing spectacle of a man born blind.

If you’ve ever been deprived of your sight, you know how frightening it can be. I’ll never forget visiting some friends with my mother when I was a kid. They were doing a lot of work on the house and so they didn’t have a guest bedroom. They offered to let me sleep on the guest bed which was down in the basement with a lot of other furniture being stored during the renovation. I was fine with that. But then I woke up in the middle of the night and needed to get to a certain place. I couldn’t see anything. I had no idea where the light was. I wasn’t sure which way the stairs were. The room was filled with obstacles. It was a real nightmare.

It’s hard to understand when someone is so afflicted, because we can imagine how terrible it would be if it were us. We really want an explanation. Maybe we’re worried it’s catching.

We’d like to think we don’t blame people for their suffering, but it’s surprisingly easy to do. A lot of people are reading this book, “The Secret.” The basic message is similar to the old Christian heresy of Gnosticism: you are responsible for what happens to you.

Who sinned? That’s always the question. Someone comes in who’s in trouble with the police. Who sinned? Someone comes asking for financial help. Who sinned? A disaster befalls the nation. Who sinned? A plague spreads, killing millions. Who sinned?

We’re willing to consider the possibility people suffer not because of their own sin but because of their parents’. We can stretch this too to include whole classes of people, whole cultures. Those people! “Those people” don’t have an respect for life. “Those people” are violent from the time they’re born.

Jesus answers us this morning: “Neither he sinned nor did his parents sin. This situation is an opportunity to show the power of God’s love.”

Jesus goes on to do just that. “Here’s mud in your eye.” You ever use that toast? This story could be where it comes from. He tells the man to go wash in the pool. When he does, his sight is restored.

Just a note here: the man born blind doesn’t actually see Jesus until the very end of this story. He goes to the pool by himself and when he returns Jesus is already gone. Nevertheless, like last week’s woman at the well, Jesus has come near to him.

Let’s sing another song about coming near to Jesus, shall we? Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross, No. 587, verse two.

Near the cross, a trembling soul, love and mercy found me; there the bright
and morning star sheds its beams around me. In the cross, in the cross, be
my glory ever, till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.

“I don’t even recognize him anymore.” You’ve heard that before, haven’t you. “I don’t even know her, she’s changed so much.” The man born blind can see, and people are at first doubtful he’s even the same person. The man born blind found healing in the pool of Siloam and when he came back he was a different man.

But the real issue isn’t that someone has changed, or even how much. The real issue is, what is the power behind that change?

“Where is this person who healed you?” That’s the question. “How did he do it?” The questions are not designed to open up possibilities. They’re designed to shut the possibilities down. As Harry Leach likes to quip about people in the partisan political discussion, Democrat or Republican: “Don’t confuse me with the facts, I’ve already made up my mind.”

The authorities in this story have already decided that Jesus is not the Messiah. The fact that Jesus has restored sight to a man born blind clearly testifies that he is. It seems to us ridiculous people can’t see this obvious truth.

But is it ridiculous? We all think we’d welcome the Messiah, but would we really? The Messiah is the Messiah precisely because he has the power of God to change the world. I don’t know about you, but I have a problem with change. It makes me anxious. I don’t know where I’m going to stand in the new situation. I don’t know the way into new places.

When it comes to the future, I’m walking through the valley of shadows. When it comes to the future, when it comes to change, I’m… well, blind.

And being blind, as we have said, is frightening.

We might think we want to welcome the Messiah, that it would go without saying. But are we really ready for the transformation he brings? Are we ready to go where we have never been, into a future unlike anything we’ve experienced?

We need some assurance, don’t we? And this I think is what church is all about, friends. We are here to ready ourselves for the great changes God is going to bring about in us and through us. We are here to become comfortable with God’s transforming power. We are here to open ourselves to him and to each other.

At the beginning of a new year, a certain woman once prayed that God would shine a light into the future to comfort her. But God answered, “walk into the darkness and reach for my hand.”
Let’s sing another hymn, Blessed Assurance, No. 543, verse 1:

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir
of salvation, purchase of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood. 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.

When the man born blind has been thrown out of his community, Jesus finds him, and for the first time the man actually sees Jesus. He has been ejected from the conventional religion of his family and his village and his people, all because of his faith in the person who transformed him. “Lord, I believe” is all he has to say, and he becomes a part of a new community.

There once was a little girl name Fanny, who was born in the mid-nineteenth century. Not long after she was born, she became ill with a fever, and lost her eyesight. When she was struck blind, I’m sure her family and her community grieved. What would become of her? I’m sure too that some thought she or someone in her family somehow deserved the affliction, but this is not how Fanny Crosby saw it.

She went on to become perhaps the most prolific hymn writer in American history, with some 8,000 hymns to her credit. Seven of them are in our hymnbook. All the hymns we have sung during this sermon were written by her.

She wrote toward the end of her life:

It seemed intended by the blessed providence of God that I should be blind all
my life, and I thank him for the dispensation. If perfect earthly sight were
offered me tomorrow I would not accept it. I might not have sung hymns to the
praise of God if I had been distracted by the beautiful and interesting things
about me.

It’s rather a switch on the old cliché, “blind ambition.” Perhaps as Christians, we should be “ambitious to be blind,” in order to be given new sight through Christ.

"If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, 'We see,' your sin remains.” Thus says the Lord.

Let’s sing one more Crosby hymn, shall we? To God Be the Glory, No. 72, verse 3:

Great things he hath taught us, great things he hath done, and great our
rejoicing through Jesus the Son; but purer and higher and greater will be our
wonder, our transport, when Jesus we see.

Amen.