Sent

The mud was stiff and dry on my skin, and I was shaking as I knelt by the side of the pool. I reached down till I felt the water, then cupped my hands, gathered some in my palms, and splashed my face. It was quiet all around me. I was glad nobody else was there. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get to the water.

My eyes burned as I blinked away the water and dirt. But I was afraid to open them. He wasn’t the first person who had tried. Ever since I was born, my parents have tried to get me in front of every healer who came through town, until they ran out of money. And hope.

I was a lost cause.

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.

The holy teachers urged us to repent of our wickedness. I have. Over and over again. But every day I opened my eyes and saw nothing but a blur of light and shadow.

So I waited, crouching by the pool, my eyes shut tight. I dried my hands on my shirt. He probably didn’t mean I would really be healed. It was just a metaphor. Go and wash in the pool of Siloam. Wash away your sins. I’ve heard that before. But it never worked. I can never wash them away. I can never be clean.

Nobody was there when it happened. But they must have heard me cry out. The world crashed into me, a wall of color and shape I never could have conceived, even in my dreams. I wiped away my tears to clear my view, still using my hands to find my way. All my life, I had gone by smell, by hearing, by counting the steps. But suddenly I didn’t know where I was. I wanted to go home. I needed to go home.

People were thrilled. Scared. They all wanted to see me. They wanted to make sure it was really me. I begged them to believe me. Tears in my eyes, my voice going hoarse as I contended for the truth. I was blind! I was!

Then the holy teachers came to the house. Who did this to you?

I don’t know, I said. They asked me if it was Jesus. Which Jesus? I know five men with that name in our town alone. But it wasn’t a voice I’d ever heard before.

Jesus of Nazareth, they snap. The man is a sinner. Don’t you know he did this thing on the Sabbath?

Who cares? And how could he be a sinner? Don’t you understand? I was blind!

But I didn’t say that out loud.

Instead, I told them what they’ve taught me since I was a boy. God does not listen to sinners, but only to those who worship him. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.

Their faces hardened. Men whose voices I’ve known all my life. Men who taught me everything I know about God. The muscles in their cocked jaws rippled under their skin.

You were born in utter sin, and you would teach us? Out with you. Out!

You are cut off from the people of God.

My heart sank, my stomach turned to a clod of wax. I clung to their skirts and begged them. Have mercy! Have mercy on me, O God.

I turned to my parents. But they stared at the ground. I begged them to help me. Tell them what happened! Tell them I’m not a liar. God does not listen to sinners. Tell them! You know!

I kept crying out as they pushed me away, spitting on the ground and hurling curses at me, aspersions I’d never heard before. Nobody would listen.

I ran without knowing where I was going, anywhere to escape the blows and the shouting. I stopped, panting under a tree. I sank against the trunk and buried my face in my arms. Would this be my life now? Where could I go? Who would accept me now, if my own parents were ashamed to look at me? If my own God would cut me off?

Cast me not away from Your presence, I prayed. Cast me not away from Your presence. Have mercy on me, O God.

I was there for a long time.

Do you believe in the Son of Man?

I jumped and looked. I knew the voice. The same voice who had told me to wash. I was blind and now I could see. He was a good man. A prophet. I was blind and now I could see.

The Son of Man. The prophet Daniel spoke of the Son of Man. Messiah. A kingdom without end. Why was he asking me about the Son of Man? This man must be a prophet. Does he know where Messiah is? When he is coming? Would he tell me? Surely, if this good man would speak to me, to tell me of Messiah, God may still forgive me.

Sir, I stumbled over my words. Sir, who is He? Who is He, that I might believe in Him?

You have seen Him.

I froze. I trembled.

And it is He who is speaking to you.

I was struck wordless as I fell at His feet and clung to Him. In my heart, I prayed, my mind stumbling over the words I knew so well.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love. Cast me not away from Your presence, O God. Create in me a clean heart. A broken and contrite heart, You will not despise. Do good to Zion in Your good pleasure.

I don’t know where I go next. I don’t know if they will ever take me back. I don’t know if they will ever understand. They ran Him out of town just like they did me. And I don’t know if my parents will speak to me again.

But this much I know. My eyes have seen the salvation of my God.