John 9
A poor man, blind from his birth, gets his eyes anointed by the Lord, and is sent to wash at Siloam. He goes—he washes—he sees.
The moment he sees, the neighbors are aroused. They speak of him as the one who “sat and begged,” for he now sits and begs no longer. “Some said, He is like him.” Such was the change wrought by getting his eyes opened, that they could scarcely recognize the same person. He, though more conscious than all else of this change, says, “I am he.”
But now they must know how all this has come about. It has created a stir among them, and for some cause or other, it has made them all feel uncomfortable. He is questioned, and, in a simple, artless manner, bears witness to what he knows: “A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, Go to the pool of Siloam, and wash: and I went, and washed, and I received sight.”
Troubles now multiply. The case is referred to the Pharisees. Questioned by them, he has but one answer: “He put clay upon mine eyes, and I washed, and do see.” These were the facts; it was the truth; What else could he say?
Strange that simple truth, and truth, too, which ought to have made them all rejoice, should cause so much trouble. But so it did, and so it does, and so it will do to the end. The Pharisees divide, the Jews believe not, and so they all go to the parents of the man. Unbelief and self-righteousness will leave no stone unturned to prove that the truth is not the truth.
As to their son, the parents can testify, and they do so unhesitatingly: “This is our son, and he was born blind.” Further than this, however, they refuse to commit themselves, “He is of age, ask him.” They deny knowing how, and by whom their son had passed from darkness to light. “They feared the Jews: for the Jews had agreed already that if any man did confess that He was Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue.”
No doubt, they had at the first been more or less partakers of their son’s joy, such as his must have been, must have carried others along with it in a measure, at least, but the root of the matter was not in them, and now that the offense connected with the name of their son’s Benefactor comes out on all sides—now that it is a question of losing their place in the synagogue—they cannot stand, they flinch, they are “offended in Him.”
Not so with their son. A seat in the synagogue had not given him eyes, the Pharisees had never sent him to Siloam, and though one of the Jews, he only “sat and begged.” Now he was free, and it was Jesus who had set him free. Was he going to give up to them, though they come with such a pious saying as, “Give God the praise,” to cover a blasphemy? Nay, verily. He is in the light; Jesus has put him there, and he will be true to what he has, though it put him in the same place as He whom they have agreed to reject. Come what may, he must testify to what he knows to be true, “Whether He be a sinner or no, I know not; one thing, I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see”; and again, “Since the world began was it not heard that any man opened the eyes of one that was born blind.” The beggar has actually turned into a preacher.
O, the blessedness, and the moral grandeur, of being true to what we know!
And now for the cost: They revile him; he is a heretic because he is gone from Moses to Moses’ Lord; they close their ears to his unanswerable words, and finally “cast him out.” They have done all that they can do.
Reader, do you know what all this means? Have you been brought to the light? I do not mean the light simply as to the question of your salvation, but of any and every matter of truth—the church, the Holy Spirit, the coming again of the Lord, any part of God’s revealed will? And have you been true to it? Have you been true to every ray of light which has reached your soul? If so, then I venture to say, you know what I am speaking about. You know what it is to have left behind father, mother, friends, religious connections, and religious position. You know what it is to be alone in this world. Once in your life you have been solitary indeed. You had not chosen it nor sought it, but there you found yourself. You had found blessing, which your soul appreciated, but blessing is no company in itself. It meets the need, but it does not satisfy the heart. Mere need must have something; the heart must have somebody.
Jesus finds the blessed man whom faithfulness had brought into this solitude, and He is going to take him out of it. “Believest thou on the Son of God?” is the question He puts to him. The man is ready to step on, as is always any one who is true to the light he has, and accordingly he replies, “Who is He, Lord, that I might believe on him?” “Thou hast both seen Him, and it is He that talketh with thee.”
This is enough. The Son that gave him light has now become the center of the universe newly spread before his vision. What are father, mother, synagogue, and all the rest now? He has found a gain which sinks all his losses into insignificance. He has found Him who, for all eternity, as well as for time, is enough to satisfy his heart. He falls at His feet; he worships Him. Thenceforth to serve Him and care for His interests will be the thing next only to Himself. To get the smile of His approval day by day in his conscience, and by-and-by from His own lips, is sweeter than life. He has found Him from whom every good thing radiates—the Lord Himself. He has not passed from one synagogue into another, perhaps more godly one, or with more correct doctrine; he has not “changed his views,” nor found “a better religion”; no, he has lost all he had, and he has found all he wants, and ever will want—the Son of God, Christ Himself, Himself, HIMSELF!
Suppose there was none other with Christ when he thus met Him? What of it? Is not Christ all by Himself enough? Is there need of a great company with Him? No! my soul delights to repeat it, He, and He only, is seen by the man in such circumstances.
Suppose he had found ten thousand already gathered to the Son of God when he met Him, He would have been at once with them, but gathered to Christ Himself, not to these ten thousand.
Suppose ten thousand more were gathered after him. It would make him happy indeed for their sakes, and for the honor of Him whom he loves, but tens of thousands cannot add to the delight of his soul in Christ’s company.
Suppose trouble arise in the company. Suppose many be offended and leave. What of it? To whom can he go? There is no other.
Depend upon it, dear reader, you cannot stand in the hour of the storm unless you have been “alone with Jesus,” unless it is Himself who fills your eye and your heart. If it is to the company which is about Him that you have come, instead of Himself, you have something more to lose. You have yet found no center for your heart, and you are yet but a wandering star. And be sure of this, that Satan will leave none untested who connect themselves with the name of Christ.
But if such be the portion of him who has found in Christ his “all” already here, what will it be, O! what will it be up there? where, nothing more to mar the glory of His face, we shall see how worthy He is for whom we have lost all through faithfulness to Him.
Our Rights.
The thought that Christians are to have their rights in this world is to forget the cross and Christ. We cannot have our rights till Christ has, for we have none but His.