There He is again, playing a game of verbal
“Battleship” with the Pharisees in the temple court—they take a shot at him,
and he fires right back. Jesus has, once again, so grossly offended the
teachers of the law that they intend to stone him to death… Typical of His
in-your-face style with the teachers of the law, He’s just pulled the pin on
this little grenade: “You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the
desires of your father. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not
stand in the truth because there is no truth in him” (John 8:44).
John records what happens next with elegant
simplicity: “Jesus
hid Himself and went out of the temple.” If an angry mob picked up stones,
intending to kill you, “hiding yourself” would require a) Harry Potter’s “cloak
of invisibility” or b) fast feet. John leaves out the details. This is all
merely the prequel to a bigger drama that’s about to unfold…
Likely breathless from his escape, Jesus runs across a man who is
blind from birth (John 9). When the disciples catch up, they ask a question
that’s quintessentially human: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents,
that he would be born blind?” They want to know why bad things happen to good
people—a conundrum that’s fundamental to our life in a broken culture.
“It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents,”
Jesus replies, “but it was so
that the works of God might be displayed in him.” Then, without permission or hesitation—or,
it has to be said, apparent rationality—the Master spits on the ground,
fashions a little clay, then smears it all over the man’s eyes and face.
As shocking as all of this must have been
for a blind man who’s suddenly been sucked into a big moment, the next words
out of Jesus’ mouth must have seemed no less astonishing: “Go, wash in the pool
of Siloam” (John 9:1–7). The pool is on the other side of town, a long trek
away. And this man has just been told to walk there on his own. Still blind, his
eyes smeared with spit and mud, he’s supposed to find his way to a specific pool
where he can wash his face. If he can find the place…
What’s the point?
Why would Jesus ask this man to do
something that will so obviously require him to take a great risk?
Why, when He has healed multitudes with a
simple touch, does Jesus ask the man to jump through hoops in order to find his
freedom?
It makes no sense—unless Jesus wants the
man to put his skin in the game.
Risk, Jesus says, is our primary language
for communicating the great works of God. And when the man offers his skin in
the game, he’s really setting the stage for God to be known and worshiped.
The blind man is used to poor treatment,
and getting clay smeared on his eyes smacks of same-old, same-old. So why
should he obey Jesus’ bizarre instructions, after an equally bizarre and
inexplicable act of apparent disrespect? We don’t know the calculus going on
inside the man’s head, but we do know his response. He accepts Jesus’ challenge
and finds his way to the pool of Siloam, where he washes the clay from his
eyes—and then runs back through town to declare the impossible: He can see! For
the first time in his life, he can see!
We may not like the hard edge of risk, but
Jesus requires it of those who would wash away their blindness. And so, we must
consider the dimensions of the man’s risk, and our own, because our courage is
proportionate to its impediments. Like the man born blind, we’ve heard an
Accuser’s voice our whole life, planting lies in our soul.
On a men’s retreat a couple of years ago,
my friend Bob Krulish asked a group of sixty gathered in a mountain auditorium
to answer this simple question: “What’s one lie you are right now believing
about yourself?” Here’s a sampler of their anonymous responses:
I’m not really desired by my wife
I’m not enough (listed multiple times).
I always feel like a failure.
If you really knew me, you’d reject me
(listed multiple times).
I’m not worthy or capable of success.
I’m invisible.
I’m inadequate.
My life isn’t worth much or special.
I’m dirty.
I’m a loser.
I can’t do it.
I don’t have what it takes
I can do it all by myself—don’t need
others.
There is something wrong with me.
What about the man born blind, with mud
smeared on his beaten and weathered face? His own interior collection of lies
may well be legion—a toxic stew of the entire bulleted list. But he chooses to
risk anyway, stumbling his way through town, past the averted eyes of others,
all the way to Siloam and a miracle that exceeds his deepest hopes. For the man
is about to gain more than his eyesight alone. His newfound vision will turn
the tables of his entire life. Before, he was defined by what he needed, but
henceforth, he will be defined by what he gives.
This blog is
adapted from the just-released book Skin
In the Game: Living an Epic Jesus-Centered Life.
- For a free excerpt of the book, go here:
http://store.kregel.com/client/excerpt/978-0-8254-4359-6.pdf
- To order the book, go here: http://www.amazon.com/Skin-Game-Living-Epic-Jesus-Centered/dp/0825443598/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422108013&sr=8-1&keywords=Skin+In+the+Game+Rick+Lawrence
- To connect with Rick
Lawrence, go here…
Web Site: RickLawrence.com
Twitter: @RickSkip
Facebook: Facebook.com/RickSkip
Rick Lawrence
is an author, ministry leader, and the longtime executive editor of GROUP
Magazine, the world’s leading resource for the “Navy SEALS” of ministry—youth
workers. He’s the general editor for The Jesus-Centered Life Bible (Fall
2015), and he’s the author or co-author of 37 books, including his newest, Skin
In the Game: Living an Epic Jesus-Centered Life (Kregel).
Tweet
