THERE is a very sad sight that we frequently see—a man standing quite still in the street, with the word “Blind,” in large letters, on a board before him. I daresay you have often felt sorry when you have passed such a man, and wished you could do something to help him—perhaps you may have stopped and put a penny into his hand—that was all you could do. In the ninth chapter of John’s Gospel we read of such a case. That poor man sat, day by day, and begged of the passers-by. It was a sad life, but as he could not work to earn a living, there was nothing else for him to do. He probably expected to sit by the wayside begging to the end of his days.
But one day, as he was sitting in his accustomed place, One passed by, who could give him more than money. The poor man could not see Jesus—he did not know that One was passing him, of whom it had been said that He should “open the blind eyes” (Isa. 42:7), but Jesus saw him. He knew his need; He would not pass by, and leave Him still in darkness—He cured him of his blindness. What a wonderful change for that man! How new and strange everything round him must have seemed, for he had been blind all his life!
I think there are many children who do not like to be in the dark, even for a short time. I have no doubt, when you are sent to a dark room to fetch something, that you make all the haste you can, and feel very glad to get back again into the light. Have you ever thought what it must be to be always in darkness—never to see the sunshine, nor the trees and flowers, nor the faces of your friends, nor any of those things which make this world such a pleasant place to us? But I want to show you that, although this seems to be a very sad case, there is one that is sadder still, for there is another kind of blindness, which is a worse thing to have than blindness of the eyes—it is blindness of the mind. (2 Cor. 4:4). Only Jesus can cure that, too, and I want you, before you finish reading this, to find out if you have already been cured of this kind of blindness, so I will try to explain it to you. We may compare the lives of some people to a summer day—the early morning—all brightness: there is so much to make them happy, so much to enjoy, that they want nothing beyond; they hear others speak of the joy of knowing Jesus, but they cannot understand it, because the things that are seen of this world are taking up all their attention. As they go on in life they find that these things do not last—changes come—they meet with trials and troubles—friends die; they begin to find the world is a different place from what they once thought. The shadows gather round them—the evening comes on; they are surrounded by gloom, because they have never seen the true Light. (John 1:9).
I remember hearing, not long ago, of a man who lay dying in a workhouse, and when the clergyman who visited him asked him, “How is it with you, John?” “All dark,” was the only answer. The poor man had had good sight all his life, but he had never had his eyes opened to see his need of a Saviour—he had never looked to Jesus—so, when he was passing out of this world, he had no guide; he had no light; he could not see whither he was going.
Which is best, to see the faces of your friends here, and never to see the face of Jesus as your Saviour—to see the things that are round you here, and never to see those things which the Lord is preparing for them that love Him (1 Cor. 2:9), or to be in darkness for a little time here, and then to have your eyes opened in the kingdom of heaven to see Jesus, and to share His glory forever?
A girl, who had been blind for many years, called to her mother, just as she was dying, “Mother, the day is dawning.” She was going where there is “no more night.”
A short time ago I met with a little blind girl, about eleven years old. She had been always blind, and had never seen the faces of her parents, and brothers and sisters. You may think, perhaps, “How miserable she must be!” But I found that she was not at all miserable, but very happy. I said to her, “Do you not sometimes wish that you could see?” “No,” she said, she did not mind being blind. “But,” I said, “do you expect to be always blind?”
“Oh, no.”
“And when do you hope to be able to see?”
“When Jesus comes again. Then ‘the eyes of the blind shall be opened.’”
“And what do you expect to see when your eyes are opened?”
“Jesus.”
She was blind, but she was not in darkness. She had never seen the light of the sun, but she could see Jesus, the Sun of righteousness, with the eye of faith, and His promise was being fulfilled to her: “He that followeth Me, shall have the light of life.” (John 8:12) She had—
... Heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘I am this dark world’s light;
Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright.’
And she could say—
I looked to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun,
And in that Light of Life I’ll walk
Till traveling days are done.
I trust you can say this, too; but if you cannot, then remember that the same Jesus, who when He was upon earth gave sight to the blind, can open your eyes. Will you go to Him today with the prayer of another blind man of whom we read— “Lord, that I might receive my sight!” (Mark 10:51). Will you ask Him to open your eyes? By His Holy Spirit, you will see your need of a Saviour, and see Jesus as the Saviour that you need? Then He will not pass you by; and if you can already say, “Whereas I was blind, now I see” (John 9:25), then let those words in Psa. 119 be the daily prayer of your heart when you open your Bible, “Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law.” Seek day by day to get a nearer and clearer sight of Jesus, and to follow Him more closely, and that beautiful promise will be fulfilled to you; your path will be as the “shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.”