I Once Was Blind
Fourth Sunday of Lent 1 Sam 16 · Eph 5 · John 9
We love to sing:
“Amazing grace… I once was blind, but now I see.”
The man who wrote that line — John Newton — once captained slave ships.
He transported human beings like cargo.
He read Scripture. He prayed. He believed in God.
And yet he did not see.
Not at first.
It took years before something shifted.
The obvious became visible:
The people he sold were created in the image of God.
Blindness is rarely dramatic. It is cultural. Normalized. Shared.
Everyone around him thought the system was acceptable. Profitable. Legal.
It felt clear.
Until it wasn’t.
In John 9, blindness also feels clear.
A man is born blind.
Jesus sees him first — and acts.
Light enters.
But the miracle does not bring applause.
It brings interrogation.
“It was the Sabbath.” The wrong day for such a thing.
And so comes the label:
“We know this man is a sinner.”
They are certain.
The healed man is not.
“Whether he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I know — I was blind, and now I see.”
He cannot argue theology.
He only has experience.
And experience unsettles certainty.
They question him again. They question his parents. His parents step back — afraid.
He stands alone.
His sight grows under pressure.
First: “The man called Jesus.”
Then: “He is a prophet.”
Then: “He is from God.”
Finally: “Lord.”
Not in a classroom.
Under interrogation.
And when he will not repeat their conclusion,
they cast him out.
That is the cost of sight.
Then comes the quiet line that changes everything:
“Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and He found him.”
He finds him the first time in blindness.
He finds him again in rejection.
The first Christians who told this story knew that feeling.
When they confessed Jesus, they were called names.
When they joined the Way, they lost their place.
They too heard:
“We know.”
And they too answered:
“I was blind.”
They were expelled.
But they were not alone.
They found themselves gathered around the One who had found them.
Newton once thought he saw clearly.
The Pharisees thought they saw clearly.
The blind man admitted he did not.
So did the first Christians.
Blindness is not the tragedy.
Certainty without light is.
We sing “Amazing Grace.”
But grace is not a song for funerals.
It is the moment you realize that what you were sure about was not worth your life.
It is the moment when the One you did not fully understand comes back and stands before you again.
And you are no longer arguing.
You are standing.
Seen.
“Do you believe?”
You bow.
And something in you says,
“Lord.”
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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