A Speck in the Darkness

A Speck in the Darkness

Written October 4, 2004 for Junior Bible class

Based off John 9:1-7

            That day dawned clear and bright.  The vast blue sky was littered with several cottony clouds floating in the wind.  As for me, everything was the same.  People stomping on me, hurrying off to some important meeting or appointment.  Teenagers hung out with each other on the side of the road, and several beggars could be seen.  Sandals, hoofs, and wheels scurried about all around me.  Suddenly, whoosh!  Whoosh!  A cane swept through my top layer, scattering parts of me to the wind.  Oh yes, of course.  It was him: the man born blind. He had few earthly possessions: a blanket for cold nights, a small covering to hide him from the sun, and a cane. He always carried his cane wherever he went.  It was his most valuable possession, and I had never felt or seen him without it.  Like a brush in the hands of a skilled artist, he painted a picture of the things around him: my dips and bumps, a set of stairs, or the foot of a small child in front of him.  This small wooden stick was the only prick of light in his dark world.

            As was his custom, the man would sit by the side of the road, usually right next to me, and beg the people passing by for money or food.  Occasionally, he would get up and feel around with his cane.  Several times it had been knocked out of his hand by a passing donkey, cart, or annoyed Pharisee. Frantically, the blind man would fall on his knees and scrounge all over my surface for his precious cane, calling out hysterically for help.  But his cries were usually ignored. For some reason, most prominent Jews despised him, believing that his condition resulted from an evil that he or his parents had committed.  Once in a while, a kind soul would bring it to him.  With tears of joy shining in his empty eyes, he would thank them over and over again, asking God to bless them.  That cane was his only speck of light in the darkness.

            The sun blistered down on the small street.  A light breeze wafted by, carrying a twinge of the sea.  Several men walked by, and a small dog searched for hidden scraps.  Several children milled around as a donkey cart slowly threaded its way through the street.  Then I felt it.  A sandal.  I’d been walked on thousands of times before, but something… something was different.  It was almost as if I was out of place.  A royal rich rug or something better should have replaced me.  An aura of untold glory emanated from this Man.  Following behind was a raggedy group of 12 lesser men.  I watched as one of the Man’s followers gazed over the scene around us.  His eyes locked onto the man born blind.  I wondered, could this blind man feel the power of the One in front of him?  Hurriedly, the disciple went to his Master and asked, “Lord, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  It was a commonly asked question, full of judgement and condemnation.  I felt the blind man’s weight shift, as his remarkable hearing caught the disciple’s query.  He pushed back against the wall, trying to hide from the accusing eyes.  His knuckles whitened around the cane. It was his only sliver of light in this world of darkness.  

But the Master’s response was extraordinary.  “Neither,” Jesus replied, “he was born blind so the power of God could be seen in him.  All of us must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the one who sent me, because there is little time left before the night falls and all work comes to an end.  But while I am still here in the world, I am the light of the world.”

            I could almost see the flicker of hope in the blind man’s empty eyes.  It must have been the first time he had not been convicted of some wrong.  The questions began to shout in his mind.  Could God really care about him?  Was there a purpose to his existence beyond this empty blackness?

I didn’t follow meaning behind the Master’s words though.  Night was coming… there was still work to do… and something about light?  How could a blind man see the light?  Everything was night already.  He lived in blackness so deep, that even the glare of burning orb above couldn’t penetrate his darkness.  Suddenly, I felt something wet.  The Man had spit on me, and was kneeling down.  His hand carefully mixed me with the liquid, and then scooped me up into His hand.  He walked over to the cowering form of the blind man, and carefully, with a touch so gentle it could have been holding an infant, yet with a hidden strength beyond explanation, he wiped me over the man’s eyes, and said, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”  Bewildered by this kind yet puzzling act, the blind scrambled up, searched for his cane, and then began tapping his way to the pool.

            Confusion poured through me.  Why had that Master done that?  What did this blind man’s eternal night have to do with this Man who was the Light of the world?  The blind man seemed to be as perplexed as I was.  Eternity seemed to pass in an instant, and in the next moment the blind man reached down into the pool.  The splash of water washed through me, and I dripped off onto the ground.  I hit the ground and felt, with astonishment, the full weight of a wooden cane slam into me.  But there was no cry of fear or desperation.  A sandal rested beside me for an instant before rushing away, leaving the cane and myself far behind.  Besides, who needs a sliver of light when you’ve just been shown the Son?