There are moments in life when we realize we have been seeing things only partially. Moments when something shifts, whether through an insight, a conversation, a season of struggle, or a surprising grace, and suddenly what once felt confusing or blurry begins to take shape. It is not that everything becomes perfectly clear, but something inside us awakens. We see ourselves differently. We see others differently. We see God differently. And often, that awakening does not happen all at once. It comes in stages, like dawn slowly breaking over the horizon, light stretching across the landscape a little at a time.
Lent is a season that invites us into that kind of awakening. It is a season where we slow down enough to notice what we have been missing, where we let God shine light on the places where we have been stumbling in the dark, where we allow the Shepherd to guide us with just enough clarity for the next faithful step. Not the whole map. Not the whole plan. Just enough light to trust the One who leads.
And today, in this fourth week of our Come to Me series, we are invited to reflect on how God’s light reshapes the way we see ourselves, the world, and the God who walks with us. We are invited to admit that our perspective is limited, that we do not always see clearly, and that sometimes the things we are most certain about are the very things God wants to transform.
Before we step into the story from John’s Gospel, we begin with a word from Paul, a word about identity, awakening, and the kind of clarity only Christ can bring.
Ephesians 5:8–14
8 For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Walk as children of light, 9 for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. 10 Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. 11 Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness. Rather, expose them. 12 For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible. 14 For everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says,
“Sleeper, awake.
Rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”
“You were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light.” Not “you were in darkness,” but “you were darkness.” And now, “you are light.” This is identity language. This is transformation language. Paul is not talking about behavior modification. He is talking about a fundamental shift in who we are because of Christ. And then he says, “Sleeper, awake. Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” This is resurrection language. This is awakening language. It is the language of someone who has been stumbling in the dark and suddenly feels the warmth of light on their face.
Hold that image with you, because the story we are about to walk through is a living example of what Paul is talking about. It is a story of someone who begins in darkness, literally, and slowly awakens to the truth of who Jesus is. It is a story of eyes opened and a heart awakened. And it is a story that unfolds in stages, which is why we are going to read it in stages today.
We begin at the moment of healing, the moment when Jesus sees a man others have overlooked.
John 9:1–7
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3 Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. He was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6 When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes. 7 He said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam,” which means Sent. Then he went and washed and came back able to see.
Jesus sees a man who has been blind from birth. Everyone else sees a theological problem. The disciples want to debate whose fault it is. The neighbors have likely walked past him for years without really noticing him. But Jesus sees him, not as a problem to solve, not as a sinner to blame, but as someone through whom God’s work can be revealed.
And Jesus does something unexpected. He makes mud, places it on the man’s eyes, and sends him to wash. And the man comes back able to see. It is a simple moment, almost understated. No dramatic speech. No big announcement. Just compassion, touch, and obedience. And suddenly, light floods in where there had only ever been darkness.
But here is the thing. The man’s physical sight is restored instantly, but his spiritual sight, the clarity of who Jesus is, comes slowly. He does not fully understand what has happened. He does not know who Jesus really is. He just knows that something has changed, and he cannot deny it.
That is often how awakening begins. God does something in us, something small, something quiet, something unexpected, and we do not fully understand it yet. We just know something is different. Something is stirring. Something is opening.
But not everyone celebrates when God brings new sight. Sometimes the people around us resist it. Sometimes they question it. Sometimes they try to explain it away. And that is exactly what happens next.
John 9:13–17
13 They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. 14 Now it was a Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. 15 Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” 16 Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the Sabbath.” Others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. 17 So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”
The Pharisees cannot make sense of this healing. It does not fit their categories. It does not follow their rules. It does not match their expectations of how God should work. And so they question the man. They question his neighbors. They question his parents. They question the very possibility that God could do something outside their framework.
But notice what happens in the man. His clarity grows. At first, he said, “The man called Jesus made mud.” Now he says, “He is a prophet.” His understanding is deepening. His sight is expanding. The light is beginning to awaken something in him.
And when I read this part of the story, when the man is beginning to see more clearly who Jesus is, even while the religious leaders resist it, I cannot help but think of someone whose life mirrors this kind of awakening: Fanny Crosby, the great hymn writer.
Fanny Crosby lost her sight when she was just six weeks old because of a medical mistake. She lived her entire life in physical darkness. And yet she became one of the most prolific hymn writers in Christian history, with more than eight thousand hymns. And not obscure ones. Some of the most beloved hymns in the church came from her pen: Blessed Assurance, To God Be the Glory, I Am Thine, O Lord, Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior, and many more. Her words have shaped worship for generations.
What is remarkable is not just her talent, but her clarity. People would often ask her if she wished she could see. She would smile and say something that would stop anyone in their tracks: “Do you know that if at birth I had been able to make one petition, it would have been that I should be born blind?” She said, “Because when I get to heaven, the first face that shall ever gladden my sight will be that of my Savior.”
Fanny did not deny the hardship of blindness. She did not pretend it was easy. But she believed that God’s light had awakened something in her heart that physical sight never could. She once wrote, “It seemed intended by the blessed providence of God that I should be blind all my life, and I thank Him for the dispensation.”
Her story reminds us that clarity does not always come from seeing more with our eyes. Sometimes it comes from trusting more deeply with our hearts. Sometimes the places where we feel limited are the very places where God’s light shines the brightest.
But the Pharisees are not satisfied. They keep pressing. They keep interrogating. They keep trying to force the man back into the darkness of their assumptions. And the more they push, the clearer the man becomes.
John 9:24–34
24 So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God. We know that this man is a sinner.” 25 He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know is that though I was blind, now I see.” 26 They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” 27 He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” 28 Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. 29 We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” 30 The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing. You do not know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. 32 Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” 34 They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.
This is the moment where the man’s courage shines. He does not have all the answers. He does not have a degree in theology. He does not know how to win an argument with religious leaders. But he knows one thing: “I was blind, and now I see.” And sometimes that is the most powerful testimony we can offer. Not a polished explanation. Not a perfect understanding. Just the truth of what God has done in us.
The Pharisees cannot handle it. They cannot accept that God might be doing something new. They cannot admit that their certainty might be blinding them. And so they cast the man out. They push him away. They reject him.
But Jesus does not leave him there. Jesus seeks him out. Jesus finds him. Jesus completes the awakening that began with mud and water.
John 9:35–41
35 Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” 36 He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” 37 Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” 38 He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. 39 Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see may see and those who do see may become blind.” 40 Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” 41 Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”
This is the moment of full sight. Jesus reveals himself, and the man responds with belief. His eyes are opened, but now his heart is awakened. He sees Jesus not only as a healer, not only as a prophet, but as Lord. And Jesus names the truth. The ones who think they see clearly are often the ones most blind, and the ones who know their vision is limited are the ones most open to the light.
This story is not only about a man who lived two thousand years ago. It is about us. It is about the ways we see and the ways we do not. It is about the assumptions we carry, the blind spots we ignore, the places where we cling to certainty instead of opening ourselves to God’s light. It is about the moments when God begins something in us that we do not fully understand yet. It is about the courage to speak the truth of what God has done, even when others resist it. And it is about the Shepherd who finds us when we have been pushed aside, who completes the work he began, who awakens us to the fullness of his presence.
When Paul says, “Sleeper, awake,” he is not scolding. He is inviting. He is saying, “There is more light available to you than you realize. There is more clarity, more truth, more grace, more guidance than you have been living with. Let Christ shine on you.”
And when Jesus heals the man born blind, he is not only restoring sight. He is revealing what God is like. He is showing us that God leads us step by step, not with a floodlight that shows the whole path, but with a gentle light that reveals the next faithful step.
So what does this mean for us today?
It means we can admit that our vision is limited. We do not have to pretend we see everything clearly. We do not have to cling to our assumptions. We do not have to defend our blind spots. We can let God shine light on the places we have been avoiding.
It means we can trust that God is already at work in us, even if we do not fully understand it yet. Awakening is a process. Clarity comes in stages. And God is patient with us.
It means we can speak honestly about what God has done in our lives, even if we do not have all the answers. “I was blind, and now I see” is enough.
It means we can expect resistance, not because people are bad, but because new light can be uncomfortable. It disrupts old patterns. It challenges old assumptions. It invites change.
And it means we can trust the Shepherd who finds us, who completes the work he begins, who awakens our hearts to his presence.
You may be in a season where things feel blurry. You may be walking through uncertainty. You may be carrying questions you cannot answer. You may be longing for clarity. And the good news is that Christ shines on you, not to expose you in shame, but to awaken you to life. Not to overwhelm you, but to guide you. Not to judge you, but to restore you.
You do not need perfect vision. You only need an open heart. You only need enough light for the next step. And Christ gives that freely.
So today, may your eyes be opened. May your heart be awakened. May you walk as a child of light. And may the Shepherd lead you with grace and steadiness, now and always.
Amen.
