2023 03 19 Sermon
The Gift of Limitations
Lent 4 A
John 9:1-41
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
There’s a lot of layers to this story in John’s gospel, but it starts with a man who is blind from birth. This is an important detail, not just in this story but also for us, because while being born blind is a rare disability, the fact is that all of us have some kind of limitation that we’ve either been born with, or that we develop later in life.
Eye problems are fairly common—look at how many of us wear glasses or contacts—not to mention those who have had cataract surgery or other kinds of eye surgery. But there are all kinds of limitations that we have no choice but to learn how to live with. My son Liam, for example, was born with a hearing loss. He’s worn hearing aids since he was 2 years old. The ironic thing is, even when he doesn’t catch everything you might say, he still loves to talk! An even more common limitation—especially as springtime approaches—is seasonal allergies. Is there anyone else out there besides me who dreads the inevitable allergic reactions to the blossoms and blooms of the beautiful trees and flowers of springtime?
Whatever condition you might have to deal with, it’s only natural to ask “why?” or “why me?” Back in Jesus’ day the common assumption was that a serious disability such as blindness was God’s punishment for sin. That’s why the disciples ask Jesus, “Whose sin caused this man to be born blind? Did he sin, or did his parents?” They’re searching for answers to the difficult realities that people live with.
And Jesus puts a stop to it right away. “He did not sin, and neither did his parents,” Jesus insists. No one is at fault for the blind man’s disability. Even though it’s not fair that he should be blind, these things happen. And in fact, they happen to every one of us to one degree or another. Yet when you accept, and maybe even embrace, the limitations that God has given you, it becomes easier to have your heart and mind opened to the ways that God is working in your life and in the world.
This is what happens for the blind man in today’s gospel. Because he is so well aware of his own limitations—in this case blindness—he is open to the way Jesus wants to work within him. Jesus makes some mud out of spit and dirt (hearkening back to the story of Adam and Eve, where God fashions man out of the dust of the earth), and Jesus rubs the mud in the man’s eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam. He goes and washes, and his eyes are opened! He can see! He’s been healed.
Maybe you hear a story like this, and reflecting on your own limitations, you might think, “OK, Jesus, that's great but why not me?” The kind of healing we experience is usually not so dramatic. It might be, but usually it’s more subtle, more gradual. Very often, the healing we receive through Christ is not a cure for our disabilities or ailments, but a new awareness of a gift that God leaves behind within that limitation.
Here’s a small thing as an example (and I know this might sound like sacrilege to some) but I actually prefer winter to spring! In the winter I don’t have allergies making me miserable, but in the spring I’m frequently miserable whenever I go outside and things are budding and blooming. So because of this limitation, I’ve tried to savor the time before things start to bloom. This taught me to appreciate being outdoors during the winter months. It led me to embrace activities like cross-country skiing and snowshoeing. Doing these things opened my eyes to the beauty of bare tree branches and snow-covered forests. I’ve gained an appreciation of the blessings God leaves for us in the coldest months of the year, which perhaps I would not have gained if not for the limitations God has given me to live with.
Would I rather not have to deal with the allergies? Of course! But since I do have to deal with them, I can allow my limitations to point me towards God’s glory revealed in the world. I can rely on God to lead me into new ways of being in the world that integrate my own experience of limitations. And therefore, even though I have not been cured, I have been healed.
Healing. Restoration. Renewal. This is the purpose of the Sabbath, and it’s also why Jesus came into the world—so that he could help us, and walk with us through faith, until we get to that point where we’re able to join the man born blind in confessing: “I used to be blind, and now I can see!”
On the other hand, we can also choose to walk in the way of the Pharisees in the story. They can see, yet they become blind. Why? Because they see everything with a rigid certitude. They think they have the answer to everything, even when they don’t have the answer, and they close themselves off to the possibility of seeing things from different perspectives. And here, right in front of their eyes, they are witnessing Jesus acting to fulfill the purpose of the Sabbath. Yet all they can do is criticize him for working on the day of rest, when the whole purpose of the Sabbath (not to mention the purpose of Christ’s resurrection) is to bring healing, restoration, and renewal to the whole creation! And this is what Jesus has just done for the man born blind. Even though it’s right in front of their eyes, they won’t open their hearts and mind to see it, and therefore they have become blind.
But before we come down too hard on them, we should take a moment to just acknowledge how easy it is for any one of us to fall into the same mindset as this group of Pharisees. It’s a mindset that is born of our desire to be in control; even in control of things that we have no control over. It’s like what Mark Twain once said: “It’s not the things you don’t know that get you into trouble. It’s the things you know for certain, that just ain’t so.”
Christian faith offers a three-fold pathway we can follow to be healed of this mindset: Humility, surrender, and love. Humility means acknowledging your limitations and your need for God, so that God’s power can be at work within your weakness. Growing in humility then allows you to surrender to Christ, which means giving up your illusions of control, and opening yourself to experiencing God’s grace and mercy. Humility and surrender, in turn, allow you to learn how to truly love others in the way of Christ. The kind of love that Christ has for us. This kind of love (agape love, as it’s known) means to selflessly seek the well-being of others, and to accept them for who God made them to be.
Very often it takes going through a time of suffering that pushes us to find this pathway—and when you do Christ is already there to meet you. When you do find this pathway, it’s not that you want to suffer. It’s not that God wants you to suffer, either. But suffering has a unique capacity to bring us closer to God—as long as we allow ourselves to acknowledge the suffering, grieve the losses and limitations the suffering has imposed, and trust God to help us go through it. That’s when you just might be surprised (like the man born blind was, when blindness became his pathway to sight), that even in our darkest days and in our most difficult life experiences, the crucified Christ is present with you, working in you with his grace to eventually raise you up again to be with him: restored, renewed, and healed. Amen.