Words That Shape Our Sight

For the Fourth Sunday in Lent, we continued the “I Am” sermon series with the video clip above where Jesus heals the blind man and then the religious leaders begin investigating the miracle. Even before the healing happens, the disciples ask the question many of us still ask when suffering appears: Who sinned? Was it this man or his parents that caused him to be born blind?

Jesus refuses that framework. He answers that this man was born as he was so that the works of God might be revealed in him.

Here’s the deeper truth: in a spiritual sense, we are all born blind, and we are all born for the glory of God. When the mess and mud of our lives is washed away and we begin to see Christ more clearly kneeling before us, we also begin to see ourselves more clearly. This whole series has been about the words we use to identify ourselves, each other, and God. When we look at the words God uses to define these things, they are often very different from the language we tend to use about ourselves.

In the tradition of the early fathers of psychology such as Freud, we often assume that the way forward is to dwell deeply in the past. Therapy frequently explores childhood wounds, ego conflicts, and the patterns that drive us toward unhealthy choices or keep us stuck. I have great respect for the field of psychology and find it fascinating. In fact, I have a minor in psychology and have never stopped studying within that field. But I also believe it needs to grow beyond simply circling the wounds of the past.

In ministry, I have seen far more transformation when people begin to recognize God’s love in their lives, God’s image within them, and God’s blessings surrounding them than when they remain focused only on sadness and trauma. There is a season for naming pain and facing it honestly. But we were never meant to live in the dark valleys of our lives permanently.

Jesus did not come to place us in an armchair and diagnose us. Even this man with a lifelong medical condition was not defined by blindness in the eyes of Christ. I am sure his own inner statement about himself was “I am blind.” But Jesus saw something deeper. In the language of the Kingdom, his truer identity would be something like: “I am one through whom God’s glory will be revealed.”

We connected this healing to the proclamation Jesus makes immediately afterward: “I am the Good Shepherd.” This echoes the imagery of Psalm 23, a psalm we often hear at funerals or hospital bedsides, but one that is really meant for the way we live every day. When hardship strikes, the Good Shepherd leads us, walks beside us, and guides us through the valley. He prepares a table for us even in the presence of those who oppose us. He blesses us in the middle of the struggle.

If Jesus can see that kind of goodness and possibility in us and in this world, then perhaps we also need to reframe the way we think and speak. Perhaps it is time to wipe the mud from our eyes and begin to see life again through the lens of grace. Instead of wondering why someone else is blind, perhaps we should ask ourselves about the source of our own blindness.

For the Fifth Sunday in Lent, we step deeper into life with Christ as he proclaims: “I am the resurrection and the life.” After weeks of watching Jesus restore sight, reshape identity, and teach us to see beyond the language that traps us, the story now moves toward something even greater. The One who opens blind eyes is also the One who calls life out of places that look completely beyond hope.

Throughout the scriptures for this coming week, we begin to see a pattern unfolding. God speaks into valleys of dry bones. God hears the cries that rise from the depths. God breathes life through the Spirit where the world assumes only decay remains. Again and again, the Word reminds us that what looks empty, exhausted, or finished is never the final chapter when God is at work.

Before we arrive at the moment where Jesus declares himself the resurrection and the life, the scriptures prepare our hearts to recognize what God has been doing all along: breathing life into what we thought was lost, calling hope out of despair, and teaching us to see beyond the surface of things.

Spend some time this week with the scriptures for the upcoming Sunday through our weekly spiritual practice of Dwelling in the Word.

Dwelling in The Word

Instructions

Set aside a regular time and place during your week where you can sit quietly with God’s Word. It does not need to be long, but it should be intentional. Choose a space where you can slow down and give the text your attention.

Select one of the scriptures for the week and read the same passage each day. This practice is different from Bible study. In church or group study, we focus on history, theology, and proper interpretation. Those are important, but Dwelling in the Word is more personal and prayerful. Here, we are listening for how the Word is speaking to us.

Read the passage slowly. You may want to read it more than once. I suggest reading it once quietly, pausing, and then reading it again out loud. Pay attention to the word, phrase, or image that stands out to you. Sit with it. Let it stay with you. Write it down or underline it.

Ask yourself simple questions as you read:

• What word or phrase is drawing my attention?

• What is bubbling up in me as I sit with it?

• Why might this part of the passage be standing out today?

Return to the same passage each day and notice what changes. Another phrase may stand out, or the meaning may deepen as the week unfolds. The goal is not to master the text, but to let the Word dwell in you and shape the way you see your life.

Ezekiel 37:1–14: The dry bones prophesy

Psalm 130: God’s mercy and redemption

Romans 8:6–11: Life in the Spirit

John 11:1–45: The raising of Lazarus

Prayer for the Week

Lord Jesus, You are the resurrection and the life. When our hearts feel like dry bones scattered across a valley, breathe your Spirit into us again. When we feel buried under grief, fear, or exhaustion, call us by name the way you called Lazarus from the tomb. Open our eyes to see your life moving even in the places that feel empty. Teach us to trust that nothing is too dead, too broken, or too far gone for your redeeming power. As we dwell in your Word this week, let it take root in us. Shape our thoughts, renew our language, and awaken hope where we have forgotten how to hope. Lead us, Good Shepherd, from death toward life, from despair toward resurrection, and from darkness into your marvelous light. Amen.