I have children, which says a lot. If you’ve raised kids, you know that when someone says, “I have children,” there’s an instant connection. Parents can casually mention things like, “I told the kids to clean their rooms” or “I had a parent-teacher conference,” and without another word, a shared sigh of understanding passes between them.
Have you ever tried to tell your kids something while they’re watching their favorite TV show or playing with their friends? Selective hearing. Hellooooo. I’m the parent, speaking to my child the whole time, but I somehow can’t get through to them. Has this happened to any parent? And when it does, and you remind your child of what you said, they say, “You never told me.” Another collective sigh rises from all parents!
You never listen to me!
Then, as life unfolds, our kids say things like, “You never listen to me!” Even though you’ve repeatedly heard them say, “My backpack is torn, I need a new one,” or “I want to join the swim team.” When the time is right, you take out the money and buy the things they need for school or sports. Yet, when they receive them, they act surprised, asking, “How did you know??” even though you’ve heard them all along.
Then there are those moments when you catch yourself speaking through clenched teeth, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like your own mom or dad. You feel the veins in your neck tighten, the heat rising to your ears, steam practically billowing from your head. And suddenly, you are them. Your parents. Right before your eyes.
It’s almost an out-of-body experience. All those times you swore as a child, “I’ll never be like them,” come rushing back. In that instant, you understand them in a way you never did before. You want to whisper, “I’m so sorry,” but instead you realize that you’ve reaped what you sowed.
And so, you breathe, accept this reality of parenting, and keep going. Be encouraged, though: one day, your children will have children. And then, they’ll understand too.
Now I understand why my parents had a strange laugh when we told them we were expecting our first child.
There are some childlike tendencies that we hold onto even as we grow into adulthood. We frequently find ourselves surprised or ungrateful when our Heavenly Father repeatedly sends blessings and answers prayers, and we accuse Him of not hearing or responding.
The story in John 9 reminds me of this. In that chapter, Jesus encounters a man who had been blind from birth. To many people he was invisible, someone passed by without notice. But Jesus stopped, saw him, and what followed changed the man’s life forever.
John 9 – why did it happen?
In John 8, Jesus is teaching in the temple after a heated encounter with the Pharisees. He boldly declares Himself to be the Light of the World, but His words stir up debate. The Jews press Him about their spiritual lineage, insisting that being children of Abraham was enough to secure them. Jesus responds with greater authority, culminating in the staggering claim that He is the eternal “I Am.” At this, the crowd is enraged and ready to stone Him, but He slips away unharmed.
After all the drama in John 8, we come to John 9 and find Jesus chatting with his disciples. I imagine they were reeling from what had just happened. Can you picture them talking together after what they had just gone through? “We almost got KILLED back there! Is this guy worth our lives? We’ve got to talk to Him.” And they looked for a moment to bring their questions to Jesus.
I see myself here; you might see yourself as well when you walk through life and face challenges, questioning why they happen. I’ve caught myself trying to hold the Lord accountable for what I experienced; why did this happen, or why did that happen?
Whose fault was it?
The disciples’ chance to question Jesus came in John 9 when they walked down a street and asked the perpetually difficult question (for ordinary people): Why was this man born blind? Whose fault was it? Surely, they thought, there must be someone to blame.
Jesus’ answer in John 9:3 is stunning:
You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-and-effect here. Look instead for what God can do.”
(The Message)
Even His own disciples wrestled with His authority and identity, especially after He had declared Himself the eternal “I Am.” Their offense at this claim shows in the way they questioned Him. To them, the world was simple: if someone was sick, hurt, or dead, someone had to be at fault. But Jesus shifts the entire perspective. Instead of looking for blame, He points them to look for what God can do.
Isn’t it the same for us today? We scramble for answers to life’s most challenging questions, feeling we must know why before we can move forward. Why tornadoes? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why? Why? Why?
The truth is, we won’t often get the answers we want. But our response can mirror Jesus’ guidance: instead of searching for blame, we should look for what God can do.
The untouchables, here comes Jesus
After Jesus answered the disciples’ question, He turned His attention to the man himself. Take a moment to consider the humanity in this story. This was a man born blind, living in a time when little was done to assist those with such conditions. Society often believed the person or their parents had sinned, and that this caused the deformity or illness. Because of this, they were treated as untouchable and marginalized for circumstances beyond their control.
The sick, the blind, the leprous, the widowed, or those born out of wedlock were society’s outcasts. Few dared to associate with them. It makes me wonder: who are today’s “untouchables”? Who among us is considered unclean? Have you ever watched a child spiraling out of control and thought, “If only the parents had…”? Such judgments don’t help; they only bring condemnation, which hurts more than it heals.
And here comes Jesus. Don’t you think this blind man must have heard the disciples questioning Him? It’s as if they spoke about the man as though he couldn’t hear, and yet, he did. Surely, he had heard countless whispers and judgments about him throughout his life. He was no stranger to being on the outskirts of what society deemed acceptable.
What was life like for the blind man in John 9?
Before we move forward, let’s take a moment to imagine what life might have been like for this man.
He depended on the charity of people who probably mocked him for his condition. His parents probably had little to give, not only because of their limited resources but also because society blamed them for having a child born blind; the community believed someone had sinned.
I can almost feel their pain. The birth of a child is supposed to be a moment of joy. And yet, discovering something is wrong with the baby crushes them, not because of a lack of love, but because of it. On top of that, society looms over the family, condemning them for a circumstance they didn’t choose. A parent’s instinct is to protect their child, but such protection can only go so far.
This family was probably kept at a distance in their village simply because their son was born blind. They loved the baby, felt the pain of his condition, questioned why it happened, and instead of support, they encountered judgment during one of life’s most vulnerable moments: the birth of a child.
Spit in the eye
The religious leaders and Pharisees of that time set strict conditions for who was considered “acceptable.” They made it nearly impossible for anyone to approach God, creating an exclusive, elitist system freely. Those with physical flaws were deemed unacceptable because, in their view, every defect must have been the result of sin.
Nothing about Jesus was or is elitist. He made Himself accessible to the average person as well as those society would avoid.
This created a problem for the elite, the Pharisees, because they were opposed to the kind of people Jesus wanted to include in the Kingdom of God.
And here we see Jesus in John 9: this amazing Teacher and Savior, the eternal “I Am,” turns to the man whom His disciples wouldn’t even address, an outcast in society, and simply tells him what to do so he can see. Jesus doesn’t ask, “Do you want to see?” He only gives the instruction, nothing else.
This man, whose name is not recorded (and I wonder why), must have prayed for years to see. Jesus, being the “I Am,” knew his heart, his needs, and He spoke to him directly. He makes mud with His spit, applies it to the man’s eyes, and says, “Go, wash.” He doesn’t promise that the man will see if he washes; He tells him to go, and the man obeys.
The untouchable was touched
This probably had the disciples and onlookers worrying. What laws was Jesus breaking? Not just by the obvious act of healing, but also by rubbing mud mixed with His spit on the man’s eyes? I can imagine the Pharisees panicking, murmuring among themselves, trying to figure out which laws had been violated.
Today, many health regulations are posted publicly. People get cited, fined, or even prosecuted for minor infractions. Imagine applying that level of scrutiny to Jesus’ actions that day!
How did this man get to the Pool of Siloam, where Jesus told him to go and wash? I imagine he had a group of friends he hung out with. His family seems absent from the account; as we’ll see later, they may have distanced themselves from him.
In that society, the “untouchables” often formed close-knit groups. Without blind schools and with little compassion from the wider community, this man’s companions were likely other sick, blind, leprous, or otherwise marginalized individuals. These were the ones accompanying him. Can you imagine their surprise that a normal person, let alone someone as remarkable as Jesus, would stop to speak to their friend?
What did he feel as he bent down to wash his eyes in the water? Did he notice any sensation as his sight began to return? What was the first thing he saw?
He wasn’t accepted blind or well
Oh, what a marvelous thing this was! Word of the miracle spread quickly, and the healed man was brought before the Pharisees. Just as they couldn’t accept him when he was born, they couldn’t accept the healing he had received. Their theology was turned upside down as God performed a miraculous work on the Sabbath. They couldn’t grasp that God could, and would, act beyond their rigid rules. They failed to see that the Sabbath was meant to bless, not bind.
What they didn’t realize was that many of their Sabbath regulations originated from their own elitist attitudes. Although the Sabbath was not intended for work, they added their own laws, layering their restrictions over God’s original command.
The list of these kinds of laws is endless. Here are just a couple of examples:
- If you were a tailor, you had to put your needle down half an hour before sunset on the Sabbath to ensure you didn’t accidentally break the law by carrying it.
- The Pharisees debated whether a woman wearing a hair clip was considered to be “carrying something” on the Sabbath.
These rules reveal how far removed their practices had become from God’s original intention: blessing, rest, and compassion.
These rules kept people out, which was never God’s intention. God wanted to include everyone. Yet those with physical or societal “flaws” were considered outside the circle of acceptance, and most people avoided them.
Now, after washing, this man, who had never seen, saw! Imagine the astonishment. He had never experienced sight, never witnessed the world around him, and now it all unfolded before his eyes for the very first time.
Ask him what happened
The crowd and Pharisees were so skeptical that they didn’t even believe it was him after he was healed. His parents were called, which suggests they weren’t actively caring for him; they had to be called. All signs indicate he was mostly left to fend for himself.
The first time he saw his parents face-to-face, there is no record of them embracing him, even though he could now see. Instead, they responded with a detached, “Ask him what happened,” deflecting responsibility onto their son. They feared the social consequences of involvement. They didn’t want to risk exclusion from the synagogue.
It’s important to remember that Jewish society was a tightly knit, closed community. Most business, commerce, and social interactions occurred within the group. Being expelled from the synagogue wasn’t just a religious loss; it meant potential exclusion from respected society and could threaten livelihoods. Their fear of rejection and consequence shaped their response to their own son.
The Pharisees returned to the healed man, pressing him with more questions. He gave glory to God, and in response, he was cast out, excommunicated from the synagogue. At that time, this was the harshest consequence imaginable.
Yet it seems he didn’t care. He could see. Besides, he was no stranger to being among society’s outcasts. I imagine that when he was thrown out, he shrugged it off; he could see!
You’re looking at Him
All the while, Jesus was still with him, even though he didn’t recognize Him at first. He was listening, just as He had before the healing, attentive to every word, every thought, every need.
Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and went and found him. He asked him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” The man said, “Point him out to me, sir, so that I can believe in him.” Jesus said, “You’re looking right at him. Don’t you recognize my voice?
John 9:35–37 (The Message)
This man had met Jesus before; he had already heard His voice when He sent him to wash at the Pool of Siloam. Yet when he encountered Jesus a second time, he didn’t recognize Him.
How often do we accuse God of not speaking when we are the ones not recognizing His voice? He does speak, but we fail to acknowledge Him, even when we’ve heard Him before. Instead, we try to solve problems on our own, constantly asking “why?”
We pray, asking for intervention, but rather than listening for His voice, we seek someone or something to blame. Assigning blame can make us feel better, as though having an answer gives us a sense of control. In the process, our own voice begins to dominate, overshadowing the Father’s guidance.
Let me encourage you: when we pray, even those prayers we fear God might not take seriously, He hears them. He hears it all!
The prayers of the man in John 9 were heard. His only difficulty was that, even though he had heard Jesus’ voice before, he didn’t recognize Him when He spoke again. But instead of scolding him, Jesus reassures him: “I’m the one. It’s Me.”
He bends down to listen
Our Heavenly Father isn’t hiding from us. He is always eager to help us hear His voice. The key to this man recognizing Jesus’ voice was his heart. He didn’t care about following the crowd or what others accepted; he wanted to find the One who had healed him.
God is always speaking; He isn’t interested in keeping us away from Him or the answers He sends. We need to position ourselves to hear Him, and not another voice. How committed are we to listening? How important is it to truly follow His guidance?
Once this young man realized it was indeed Jesus who spoke to him, he fell down, said, “Master, I believe,” and worshipped.
I’m reminded of my youngest daughter, Andreya, when she was little. She would motion with her hands that she wanted to tell me a secret, and I would bend down to hear her. She loved to whisper in my ear. That’s the image I have of my Father listening to me.
Because He bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath.
Psalm 116:2 (NLT)
Just as we see in John 9, the Father stops everything He is doing to give you His attention when you pray. He bends down to listen. He will not overlook you.
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Consider
Take time to pause and listen, for God is always speaking, and He bends down to hear you. When He gives guidance, obey, even if you don’t fully understand the outcome. Instead of asking “Why?” focus on what He can do in your life. Keep praying, trusting that He hears every word. Respond to His work with gratitude and worship, and let your heart recognize His presence.
