Blessed Blindness

In my church’s Bible study on Sundays and Wednesdays, we have been skimming the life of Jesus in the gospels. I find it intriguing to put myself in the place of various people during this time period. Maybe I am in the place of the woman with the hemorrhage in Luke 8. She had this issue with bleeding for 12 years- 12 years of being unclean under the law. She’d tried everything, seen all the doctors and suffered through all their treatments. And yet she only grew worse. Think of what went through her mind when she heard of a man who was healing people of incurable diseases. Or think of the blind man in John 9 and how he had never seen the world in which he lived.

We know that Jesus’ signs weren’t the reason He was here. He had a greater cause that He was fighting for and His miracles were meant to be evidence of His claims. But His signs were very effective to people who needed His help, and strangely ineffective to those who didn’t need Him.

Think of the realizations which came after Jesus’ healing of the blind man. The man himself did not know who Jesus was. But he knew what Jesus did, and in verse 17 said that Jesus was a prophet. He was able to make this judgment because he knew Jesus healed him. v25, 31 Then later on Jesus makes the claim of deity and asks if he believes in Him, and there is an emphatic statement of “Lord, I believe.”

How could this man who was formerly blind and the woman with the hemorrhage have such faith in Jesus, while the religious leaders absolutely could not see it? Jesus says why at the end of chapter 9. He came to save the blind, and judge those with sight.

Unfortunately, some resemble the “blessed” and clear sightedness of the Pharisees. They were pious and good at it. They were set up way too nicely to let circumstances change. They were far too comfortable. So they said over and over again that they did not know where this Jesus was from, and accused Him of lawlessness. And Jesus said that they were blind, were still in their sins, and that they would be judged. Luke 13 tells us that the Father will tell these newly blind men to depart from His presence, for He does not know where they come from.

On the other hand, those who are blind know they are without hope and in need of a Redeemer. They have tried to justify themselves, much as the blind man and his parents must have washed and cleansed and tried to heal his problem. But they discovered that it was hopeless, that there wasn’t anything they could do to fix it. So we know our helpless and weak state. And this is the reason we search out our King, our Savior, and accept His gift. This is our blessed blindness.

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Inspiration through an x-ray and a friend

I was at my chiropractor’s office today to get an x-ray of my hips. The idea was to see the condition of the hip sockets, especially the right one. Basically there is cartilage which separates the head of the femur and the socket. This allows for functional movement of the head without rubbing the interior bone. The problem presented in arthritis is that cartilage deteriorates and when that happens, the bones begin to touch and grind.

He looked at the x-ray and smirked at me when I pressed him for his opinion and said, “basically it’s the hip of a 65 or 70 year old.” (He’s been right there with me since the beginning of my health condition, and we are friends, hence the informality.) He went on to inform me that it could be worse, since there still is some cartilage present. And, the cool thing is that there are so many advancing techniques and methods of improving problems such as this. For instance he continued, Payton Manning flew over into Europe for a therapy which is currently not approved for use in the US. This therapy seeks to stimulate the growth of new cells, which could allow doctors to replenish lost cartilage. Though unsuccessful for him at this point, the work is out there.. Quite impressive and hopeful for anyone suffering from a debilitating problem.

Later on in the day as I pondered our conversation and my current situation, I had to enjoy the moment. I was walking out of Dominicks back to the car when I introduced a gloomy thought to myself, something to the effect of how horrible life is since I can’t do something simple like just start running. (Being an impact type of movement, it would cause undue force on the problem area.) As my strong arms lifted and lowered my body down into the driver’s seat, I began to smile. How stupid is it to look at a group of activities that I would love to do and get down in the dumps over it, when I have such a host of undeniable blessings? I mean for crying out loud, five years ago at this time, my right leg was 100% incapacitated. I couldn’t move it for fear of excruciating pain. I had to sleep in a recliner that friends from church loaned us. My mom had to tuck me in each night, complete with strategically placing pillows under knees and lower legs and covering me up with a blanket. I can remember a time when I could barely maneuver with my crutches from my recliner across the room, past the kitchen table to the bathroom, or having to sit on a stool in the shower. Now contrast that to me walking out of the store, all by myself, confidently moving across the parking lot to the car which I drove, hop in, turn up the radio loud, and drive into the setting sun. How incredibly blessed I am! I can feel and think. I can see that beautiful sunset. I can hear the music which I so adore. My awesome foot that doesn’t swell anymore can perfectly slap the gas pedal.

But that isn’t what I started out to say.. Back to the fact that I have a 70 year old’s hip. It struck me that that means I have the experiences of a 70 year old. I can think and feel like a 70 year old, somebody who knows what it feels like to have enjoyed tough sports in years past, those long bike rides through the woods or the 6 hours spent playing volleyball with friends. But at the same instant, someone who knows what it feels like to have incapability, not because of a lack of practice, but because of years of physical turmoil and consequent damage.

But I’m not an old man, I have the heart and desires of a 23 year old man. So somewhere in that weird mix, I believe a huge blessing is hiding. A blessing called perspective, or perhaps insight. I am so like my peers, and yet I have both limitations and perspectives which make me so different. Sometimes I catch glimpses of the opportunity for a beautiful future. Other times I cry and hurt because of the past and present. But in all, I strive to live. I truly believe God has given me the gift of unending desire for life- survival. And I sincerely hope that some day the purpose for this will be before me and that perhaps I will have the opportunity to use those perspectives and insights in such a way to bring satisfaction to my life and glory to my Father. I think there are two things which give me the hope that I contain: my blessing of survival and the anticipation of God’s planned out future for me.


The ties that bind us to life are tougher than you imagine, or than anyone can who has not felt how roughly they may be pulled without breaking.  You might be miserable without a home, but even you could live; and not so miserably as you suppose.  The human heart is like india-rubber; a little swells it, but a great deal will not burst it. –Anne Bronte

Should I shrink from the work that God had set before me, because it was not fitted to my taste? Did not He know best what I should do, and where I ought to labour?—and should I long to quit His service before I had finished my task, and expect to enter into His rest without having laboured to earn it? No; by His help I will arise and address myself diligently to my appointed duty. If happiness in this world is not for me, I will endeavour to promote the welfare of those around me, and my reward shall be hereafter. -Anne Bronte


Cast down into the darkness
To stumble towards unknown
Only emptiness to hold on to
Only shadows to seek support from
So arm your heart with self-worth
Yet prepare for sorrow; and pain
Don't let the fear eat you from inside
Wear your weaknesses with pride

and even if you crush my body
And drain it 'til the last drop
You can never touch my spirit
You can never touch my soul
No matter; how bleak or how hopeless
No matter how hard or how far
You can never break my conation
Tear the will apart from desire -Insomnium

Jarred