It was a hot, dusty Judean day. The old man walked slowly down the path with his son close to his side. As they walked, he described the scenery they passed and issued an occasional warning about a stone in the road, or some obstruction coming up. Most of the shady spots along the way had already been taken by the lame, the crippled and the destitute. Finally, they came to one of the few remaining shady spots along the road. He helped his son to the ground, made him as comfortable as possible and gave him the small box that would hopefully be filled with stray coins by the end of the day.

Then, with a parting hug and kiss to the cheek he left his son and returned home. At the end of the day he would return, help his son home and do the whole thing over again. Each day was a reminder of the dreams the son’s blindness had stolen. He’d never seen the sun, or the flowers, or the hands that had cared for him since birth. His entire world was wrapped up in the sounds, smells and descriptions others would give him.

As the blind man sat along the road, he sensed a crowd coming. He couldn’t tell how many, or who it was, but it must be someone important to travel in such a large group. His spirits lifted. If it was a large crowd it could mean the possibility of many coins landing in his coffer. If only he’d been earlier so that he could have gotten one of the spots further out of town. The first beggars in line often received the best alms.

The conversation grew louder. His spirits began to rise. It sounded like someone in the midst must be a Rabbi, or noble of some sort, for he was fielding questions from his followers.

Someone ran past him hollering something….did he say healed? Then, he sensed the teacher before him. He heard the question that had haunted him his entire life.

“Who sinned, Master? Was it this man, or his parents?

It was a question that he hated to hear. Why did people naturally assume that any sort of adversity in someone’s life was the result of sin? He knew it wasn’t his sin that caused the blindness. He was born this way. He knew his parents. They were Godly, faithful parents who followed the law to the best of their ability.

The teacher gave an answer he didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t the answer he’d heard countless times.

“It was neither,” was the reply, “This was done so God could be glorified.”

What a confusing answer. Yet the sound of the man’s voice and the words he spoke brought a strange sense of peace and comfort to the blind man. While he was still pondering what the words might mean he smelled the scent of wet dirt. Something wet suddenly covered his eyes.

Instinctively he began to raise his hands to wipe whatever is was away, but the person talking told him to stop and go wash in a certain pool. A group of men led him away. Soon the cool waters of the pool of Siloam covered his face.

As he wiped the water away he made a startling, wonderful discovery. HE COULD SEE!! For the first time in his life he saw the blue sky, the flowers, and the people around him. What a marvelous miracle.

But, little did he know, his story had really just begun!

(From ‘When Grace Isn’t Enough: Living in Grace Despite my Past)