March 2, 2008 “One Thing I Do Know” a sermon on John 9.1-41 by David C.
Mauldin Westminster Presbyterian Church, Mobile, Alabama
I love the accounts in
John’s gospel in which people encounter Jesus. Nicodemus, the woman of Samaria,
the woman caught in adultery, this blind man, Lazarus, Pontius Pilate—each one
is like a little mirror. Each one invites us to step into the story and put
ourselves in place of the person—face-to-face with Jesus—their questions our
questions, Jesus’ challenge to them his challenge to us. As I said in a recent
sermon on Nicodemus, the fact that John uses these stories this way does not
mean he made them up or doctored them. Of all the people Jesus met and all the
things he did, we know just a few. They are told, and told the way they are
(certain details given, others left out), with a purpose. It is a purpose John
makes very clear at the end of the gospel: “Now Jesus did many other signs in
the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are
written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of
God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” [20.30-31].
That’s part of the beauty and power of the fourth gospel. It places us in the
action and challenges us to make a decision. It won’t allow us to be merely
curious spectators. Between now and Easter we will be in John’s gospel, right in
the thick of the action. If you think about it, these accounts are not so
different from the personal stories shared with us by the visiting team at
Refresh & Renew. At some time or other every one of them shared from the heart
about how God has worked in their life, how they came to know his love, and why
they made a personal commitment to Jesus Christ. Some shared at the lunches,
some during worship. Some grew up in the church and came gradually to a deeper
understanding and more personal experience of the gospel. They knew it all
along; they simply reached a point where they had to embrace Jesus. Others had a
bit of drama. When Molly Lawrence spoke about teaching in an inner-city high
school in Miami, and she started a sentence, “Once during a riot …,” with such a
matter-of-fact tone, as if riots are normal in any school, I marveled at the
special ministry God gave her. My point is, when we hear people’s personal
stories, whether it is a visiting team member or the blind man in today’s
scripture reading, there is always an invitation to comparison. “What about you?
Do you see yourself in what I am describing? Have you been where I have been?
Have you found what I have found? Let me tell you about it.”
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The story of the man born blind is all about what we know and how we know it.
This story met a need for the first Christians who read it. It was written down
at a time when Christianity and Judaism were parting ways. Jesus was a Jew, and
so were all his first disciples. Early on, the Romans for example could not tell
the difference between a Jew and a Christian. When some Jews in Rome accepted
Jesus and others did not, trouble ensued. Claudius solved it by throwing all
Jews out of Rome. Toward the end of the first century, the lines were a lot
clearer. Those who accepted Jesus were no longer welcome in the synagogues, a
point mentioned in this story. Anyone who came to believe in Jesus could expect
to be challenged by family and religious authorities. What do you say? What do
you do? Imagine you are a simple tradesperson, and you hear about Jesus, and
maybe for reasons that confuse even you a little you just know the gospel is
true, and you accept Jesus, and you have this experience. Then your family and
neighbors want to know what it is about and why you did it. They bring in some
Pharisees, who know the scriptures backward and forward, who are much better at
debate than you are; and they begin to question you. What do you do? Well, as it
happens, this happened to a man who actually met Jesus. There is a lot in this
story. I don’t want to retell it because you heard it read. Instead let me focus
on the intense cross examination the man receives from the authorities. They
hear his version of things, but they are not satisfied. Jesus does not fit their
preconceived idea of what the Messiah should be, or even a prophet. They do not
believe in him. They consider him a dangerous deceiver. Now this happens! They
cannot simply say, “Hooray, Jesus healed this man!” because then they would have
to acknowledge Jesus acted with the power of God. On the other hand, they cannot
deny that the man can see. They are careful to establish that yes he was the
blind beggar. They even bring in his parents for a positive I.D. So they are
left chasing their tails around in circles. It doesn’t make sense from their
perspective, and they are unwilling to change perspectives. “Give glory to God!”
they shout at the man. This idiom in their language meant basically, “Tell the
truth, and God will hold you accountable.” “We know that this man is a sinner,”
they add. In other words, this can’t be God’s doing, so explain it. Clearly the
blind man is out of his depth. They are the experts. All he knows is begging. So
he essentially admits as much and says, “I can’t answer your questions. I don’t
know. I can’t convince you. I can’t explain this to your satisfaction. Sorry, I
just can’t. But one thing I do know, I was blind, but now I see. Jesus did this.
What more do you want from me?” First Peter 3.15-16 says: “In your hearts set
apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks
you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness
and respect.” Giving an answer—a reason for your faith—can be a difficult thing
to do. We sympathize with the formerly blind man. If you are not used to it, it
can be awkward even in front of friends. Every year when we elect a new class of
officers, before they are ordained and/or installed, the session examines
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them. It is not a high pressure sort of exam. Our polity calls for it, and with
good reason. The idea is the session makes sure new officers have the faith and
commitment necessary to serve in their office. We generally start off with an
open question: “Tell us about your faith.” What we are looking for is a person’s
story about what God has done in their life, how they came to faith, and what
their faith means to them. I have observed that not everyone is entirely
comfortable answering the question, or they focus on the church rather than God:
“I was baptized here. I moved there. I was a deacon at this other place.” That’s
all well and good, but there is more. The church is important, but what about
God? How has he led you? Why do you believe? I think it is a good thing to have
elders and deacons face those questions. When they are leading the church or
ministering to people, they need to bring something of themselves, something
solid from their own experience. They need to be able to say with the man in our
story, “Well, there is one thing I do know, and it is …” and they share the
reason for their own hope. When you are suffering, doesn’t it help to have
someone who has been where you are, who can say to you, “God brought me through,
and I know he will not fail you”? That’s what we look for: not just the Bible
says God won’t fail you, but also, along with that, I know he won’t fail you. I
think it is a good idea for every Christian to be able to do this. Of course,
who cares what I think. First Peter instructs all of us to be ready to give an
answer. So I want to challenge you. Think through very carefully what you would
say if you had to stand up in front of people like our visiting team did and
share your own personal faith story. What has God done in your life? When did
you choose to follow Christ and why? Why are you a believer? Hopefully you heard
some of them share, so you have some patterns. What is your story? Even if you
do not share it with anyone, just thinking about it and deciding what to say
will help you. I find the account of the man born blind so relevant to us
because our situation is similar to his. Rude Pharisees do not accost us in the
parking lot, but a skeptical world finds our faith objectionable. “Why do you
believe in Jesus?” “Doesn’t religion cause war and violence?” “How can you say
Jesus is the only way to God?” And on and on the questions go. Like the
Pharisees, many in our society cannot get past their preconceived ideas and
prejudices. They are not interested in seriously considering whether Jesus is
who he says he is—whether he is who the church claims he is. They are sure that
can’t be right. But … do we give them a reason to chase their tails? What is it
about our life together that is the equivalent of the blind man’s sight? What
causes them to scratch their heads and look in vain for another explanation? And
when they ask, how do we explain it? Are we ready to? As I said, this story is
about what we know and how we know it. Allow me to confess to you how little I
know. I am reminded of the little boy who asked his pastor as he left church one
Sunday, “How much to you know about God?” The pastor thought for a moment, and
realizing the infinity of God and all the mysteries we encounter as we
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draw near to God, he held his fingers close together and said, “About that
much.” The boy smiled and spread his arms wide and said, “Well, I know this
much, because I go to Sunday school.” Maybe they are both right. The boy was
learning a lot. The pastor knew how small his knowledge was compared to the
whole of God. There are many questions I wrestle with. In some cases, I do my
best but in the end have to appeal to mystery. I have always struggled to
understand how God’s sovereignty and human freedom work together as a person
becomes a Christian. If you figure that out, let me know; you’ll be the first
person in the history of the church to do so. There are of course the mysteries
of the Trinity and the Incarnation. I know enough to believe these truths, but
how Jesus can be God and human and all the implications of that are beyond my
understanding. And of course, there is the perennial problem of suffering. If
God is loving and all powerful, why doesn’t he stop evil and suffering? I’ve
made a lot of headway on this, thanks to some brilliant thinkers who have
written about it, but one can only go so far. Ultimately this question can only
be answered by God. I believe that someday, when God’s kingdom finally comes in
all its fullness, these things will make sense, and God will prove his love and
power. Until then, we know just enough to trust him despite all the bad things.
What is God doing in the church these days? Why are Christians so divided? There
are things I cannot answer completely. I would like to know more. I believe
Christianity is true, and there are very good answers—often compelling
answers—to the objections and problems people have. We ought to do our best to
answer them. Christianity is the only way of looking at the world that really
makes sense of the whole of reality. But we can never hope—in this life—to sort
everything out down to the last detail. If you wait until you know everything to
make a commitment, you never will. But you can know enough. What I am saying is:
I do not have all the answers. But … one thing I do know … And it is important.
It is where I fall back to when life’s complexity and confusion overwhelm me. It
is the firm anchor that holds me steady in life’s storms. It is the one thing I
can hold onto that allows me to say, “Well, these other things are mysterious,
but I believe anyway—and for good reason.” I do not know everything, but I am
sure of this, and it is enough. … One thing I do know. … What is it? I know that
God raised Jesus from the dead and that he lives and reigns today. I know this
because I have made extensive historical studies, and I believe it is so. I also
know it because of my own experience. I have felt the presence of Jesus, and I
have known his power in my life, a strength and resilience not my own that
carried me through hard times. You may think I am crazy, but I am convinced.
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I have preached before on why I believe in the resurrection, and I will again.
Many wonderful books make strong arguments. Those arguments are important
because it is easy to dismiss someone’s experience: “Oh, he thinks he’s met
Jesus, but he’s just a little squishy between the ears.” The experience is
important because without it you just have words: “Well, this writer makes a
strong case, but who ever saw Jesus make a difference in someone’s life today?”
Put them together, and you have something like the blind man’s sight. You have a
reality, a truth difficult to get around. One thing I do know … What do you
know? How do you know it? What does it mean? What good is it? Does it work in
real life? Is it worth sharing? The blind man did not know as much at first as
he came to know—he couldn’t explain the miracle to the Pharisees—but he knew
Jesus had given him his sight. The people who came here for Refresh & Renew and
shared with us, they are not theological experts. They are just like you. They
know the power of God. They know they have something worth sharing. Despite my
training and experience, I know about this much [thumb and forefinger about half
a centimeter apart]. But I know Jesus lives and reigns. What about you? … What
about you? … Amen. rev_mauldin@yahoo.com