Seeing Beyond the Case Study

When Jesus encountered the man born blind, His disciples saw a theological puzzle. Jesus saw a person. That difference changes everything about how we approach suffering—both our own and others'.

John 9:1-7: As He passed by, He saw a man blind from birth. ² And His disciples asked Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?” ³ Jesus answered, “It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him. ⁴ We must work the works of Him who sent Me as long as it is day; night is coming when no one can work. ⁵ While I am in the world, I am the Light of the world.” ⁶ When He had said this, He spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and applied the clay to his eyes, ⁷ and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which is translated, Sent). So he went away and washed, and came back seeing.

As Jesus left the temple with stones still fresh in the Pharisees' hands, He stopped. A blind beggar sat there—someone the disciples had probably passed a hundred times before. But this time, they asked the question that reveals how we often think about suffering: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?"

Notice what they're doing. They're treating this man as a theological case study, a subject for debate. Meanwhile, Jesus is about to change this man's entire life.

Here's the thing—it's easy to intellectualize suffering when it's not yours. The disciples wanted to understand the mechanics of pain, to trace cause and effect, to make sense of the senseless. But Jesus cuts through their either-or fallacy with a simple statement: "It was neither that this man sinned nor his parents, but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him."

This should make us uncomfortable. Jesus isn't saying God just used a bad situation and turned it into something good. He's saying this man's blindness—decades of darkness, poverty, and isolation—was ordained for the display of God's glory. That's a hard truth to swallow.

But here's what we can't miss: the same Jesus who says this man was blind for God's glory is the Jesus who stops everything to heal him. He's not a distant deity playing chess with human lives. He's the Word made flesh who spits in the dirt, makes mud, and tenderly applies it to blind eyes. He's Sovereign and He's loving. He's orchestrating everything for His glory and He's mindful that we're made of dust.

When you encounter someone who's suffering, don't treat them like a theological problem to solve. See them as Jesus does—as an image-bearer, as someone loved, as someone whose story isn't finished yet. And when you're the one suffering, remember this: God is not reactive. He's not scrambling to salvage your situation. He's working everything—even the hardest things—for His glory and your eternal good.

Stay dialed in.