Seeing by the Light of Christ

Fourth Sunday in Lent · March 22, 2026 John 9:1–41

In John chapter 9, Jesus sees a man who has been blind from birth. Not a man who lost his sight later in life—a man who hasneverseen the light of day. He has lived his entire life in darkness.

The disciples immediately ask the wrong question:“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents?” d

They want to explain suffering by assigning blame. And honestly, we are not so different. When suffering comes—when illness strikes, when relationships fall apart—one of the first things we do is look for someone to blame. We want an explanation, because explanations make us feel like we are still in control.

But Jesus will have none of it. He has an entirely different word for this man—and for us.

• • •

Jesus refuses that way of thinking. He says:

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

Jesus does not say Godcausedthis man’s suffering. He says that even in the places of our deepest darkness—God’s grace can still show up. No darkness is beyond the reach of God’s light.

This is deeply Wesleyan. John Wesley spoke ofprevenient grace—the grace that goes before us, already at work in our lives before we even know it. Grace that reaches into our blindness and begins to do something new.

Jesus walks toward the man in his darkness. He does not wait for him to earn it or deserve it. He simply comes, and he begins to heal. And the way he heals tells us something important about how God works.

• • •

And noticehowhe heals. Jesus spits on the ground, makes mud, spreads it on the man’s eyes, and says:

“Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”

It is earthy. It is ordinary. It is messy. But that is the point. God does not always work in spectacular ways. Sometimes grace comes through the ordinary—through bread and wine, through water, through the hands of another person, through a kind word and a quiet act of love.

N. T. Wright reminds us that the signs in John’s Gospel are not magic tricks—they are windows into what God is doing through Jesus to heal the whole creation. God cares about our bodies, our tangible struggles—not just our souls floating somewhere in the clouds.

But the healing is only half the story. What happens next reveals something even deeper.

• • •

The man washes, and he comes back seeing. But in John’s Gospel, the healing is only the beginning. The neighbors are confused. The Pharisees are furious—because Jesus healed on the Sabbath. They interrogate the man, his parents, trying to discredit the miracle.

But watch how his understanding grows:

First, he calls Jesus“the man called Jesus.”That is all he knows—a name. Then he says,“He is a prophet.”He is beginning to see more. Finally, he worships:“Lord, I believe.”

From recognition to understanding to worship. His sight deepens step by step. His faith grows as his vision grows.

And isn’t that how faith works for most of us? We do not go from total darkness to perfect clarity in one moment. Faith unfolds. And every step of the way, Christ is patient with us.

Yet not everyone in this story is on that journey. Some are moving in the opposite direction.

• • •

Here is the twist we cannot miss. While the man born blind sees more and more clearly, the Pharisees—the religious experts—become more and more blind. They cannot see what God is doing right in front of them because they are locked into their own certainty.

“If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

The most dangerous blindness is the blindness that does not know it is blind—the certainty that says,“I already see. I already have the truth.”When we are that certain, we leave no room for God to surprise us. We become like the Pharisees—defending our position instead of encountering the living Christ.

Friends, this is why Lent matters. Lent is a season of honesty—when we admit we do not see as clearly as we think we do. We come before God and say,“Open my eyes. Show me where I have been blind.”

So where does that leave us—here, today, in this place?

• • •

And so I ask you, my sisters and brothers: Where have you grown accustomed to the dark? What fear, what resentment, what false certainty keeps you from seeing God’s grace? Where do you need Christ to open your eyes?

The invitation is simple: let Jesus heal you. Let him take the mud of your ordinary, messy life and make something new.

And when he opens your eyes—do not keep it to yourself. The man in the story could not stop telling people what happened. Even under pressure, he kept saying:

“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

We do not need all the answers. We do not need perfect theology. We just need to be honest about what Christ has done.“I was blind, but now I see.”That is enough. That is more than enough.

May we, like that man who once sat in darkness, rise in faith and say with gratitude and with joy:“Lord, I believe.”

For in Christ, the darkness does not get the last word. The light has come—and it is still shining, still healing, still making all things new. Amen.

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A PRAYER

Gracious God, you who are the light of the world, open our eyes again. Forgive us where we have chosen blindness over truth, comfort over compassion, certainty over grace.

Heal what is broken in us. Meet us in the mud and the mess of our ordinary lives, and make us new. Give us the courage to see what you are doing, and the faith to follow where you lead.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

“Seeing by the Light of Christ” · Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year A · March 22, 2026

John 9:1–41