Light

Now I See

Light from within.

Light from within.

I love this man born blind, the man whose story is found in the ninth chapter of John. One miracle moved him from broken street beggar to bold preacher of the truth.

I would like to know his name, but I suppose God has kept that from us for a reason. In some ways, he is Everyman, even though few of us have been born physically blind.

As remarkable as the restoration of his sight seems, the immediate transformation of the healed man’s spirit impresses me more. I don’t expect that life as a beggar had generated a lot of self-confidence.

As the story proceeds, however, we see how he repeatedly proved himself bold because of the miracle he had experienced. He testified to his healing. He even taunted Jewish religious leaders, who feared Jesus’ growing popularity and criticized the miracle.

Having lived in darkness for so long, this new disciple of Christ wanted to stay in the light, avoiding the shadows where the more politically cunning tried to stand.

Do those of you who are Christians remember that moment when you first saw the light, when you fully understood the pivotal role Jesus plays as savior of all creation? Did you experience a sudden boldness? Did that assertiveness replace a muttering shyness about all things religious?

Such a dramatic change in attitude is common for new Christians. Finding a way to hold on to that boldness is not so common, however. Some we would count among the churchgoers have an unfortunate habit of wanting to stand in the shadows like the Pharisees, thinking just a little light will be enough.

John Wesley called such people “Almost Christians,” having a religious look and sound to them but accomplishing little for the kingdom—Christian on the outside, but still deeply dark within. The distinguishing factor between these people and “Altogether Christians,” he said, was a visible love for God and neighbors.

The man healed from blindness immediately began to live as an Altogether Christian. He was bold in declaring Jesus’ presence in this world, worshiping Jesus to show love. He also showed love to his neighbors by being unashamed of Jesus in the face of criticism or worse.

How can we not boldly declare life-giving truth to people we love? We are filled by Christ’s light, even transformed into light, and we are empowered to carry light into the darkness where so many suffer.

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Undeniably Holy

Exodus 24:12-182 Peter 1:16-21Matthew 17:1-9

The idea of the transfiguration, depicted in our Matthew text and attested to in our 2 Peter verses, can seem more complicated than it is. Let me begin with a couple of very simple principles that will help.

I first needed eyeglasses in my early twenties, and wore them all through my thirties, until my vision went the other direction and the eye doctor told me to stop wearing them. It was a light prescription; without glasses I could see across a room pretty well, but things would get blurry at about road sign distance.

I never got used to keeping track of my glasses. I suppose this was because I didn’t have them as a child, so I didn’t have my parents’ voices in my head threatening me with the end of the world if I lost or broke them. In fact, I was always putting them down somewhere I shouldn’t, and then I would have to hunt for them.

One morning, I was frantically trying to leave for work, but I could not find my glasses. I looked in the bedroom. I looked in the bathroom. I looked in the living room and the dining room. Finally, I made one of those “aaargh” sounds designed to attract my wife’s assistance. Connie walked into the room and said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “I’ve got to go to work, and I cannot find my glasses!”

She found them very quickly. “They’re on your face,” she replied.

Principle 1: Sometimes you’re so close to something, it’s hard to see it.

Mentioning my wife reminds me of another story. Connie and I have known each other a very long time, since we were 14.

I still remember the first day she walked into my homeroom class. After the school year had already begun, she was transferred from one homeroom to another. Mostly, I remember how terrified she looked when the teacher led her in and introduced her.

There stood this very tall, awkward girl. Remember, at 14, the girls are often taller than the boys, and she was one of the tall girls. She clutched her books tightly and ran to an empty seat in the back of the room as fast as she could.

“Poor kid,” I thought. And I guess I was right—she did eventually marry a guy who didn’t know whether his glasses were on his face. Love and marriage were to come much later, however.

I also suspect we crossed paths a lot earlier than middle school. We were comparing notes on childhood experiences, and we realized we had a common one. Our stay-at-home mothers both shopped regularly at the Johnson City Publix from the time we were babies. She’s just 41 days older than me, and you know how babies and toddlers notice each other.

How many times did we see each other from our shopping cart perches? Did we wave or smile, not realizing God intended us for each other?

And there we have principle 2: Seeing, even for a long period of time, is not always knowing and understanding.

Now, on to the transfiguration. Jesus took three very close disciples up a mountain. They had been with him from the start of his earthly ministry. They thought they knew him.

He seemed to them like a holy man already; that is, he seemed to reflect the same holy light Moses had brought down from the mountain thousands of years earlier after encountering God. But come to find out, Jesus was the light, the source rather than the mirror.

There even was testimony direct from heaven, the same kind of testimony some had heard at Jesus’ baptism. On the mountain, Jesus’ status was made clear: As Son of God, this man was God among us, holiness amid brokenness and sin.

They wanted to dwell in that light—Peter surely did—but they had to come down from the mountain so Jesus could do his work on the cross. And through that work, even we are made holy.

We may not always see that holiness in each other, even when it’s right in front of us. But it’s there. And it’s powerful.