The Faith that Sees God Work

When God Says "Let Me Fix That"

There's something deeply human about our resistance to help. Like a toddler screaming "I do it myself!" while struggling with shoes on the wrong feet, we often approach our brokenness with fierce independence. We know we're hurting. We recognize something is wrong. But we push away the very hands that could heal us.

This reality plays out in one of the most profound healing miracles recorded in Scripture—the story of a man born blind in John chapter 9. It's a narrative that doesn't just reveal Jesus's power to heal physical blindness, but exposes our tendency to analyze, debate, and explain away what God wants to transform.

The Wrong Questions
The scene opens with a man who had never seen light, color, or the faces of those he loved. He was born into darkness—not through any fault of his own, not because of poor choices or tragic accidents. He simply entered the world broken, with no medical remedy available and no hope that his condition would ever change.

When Jesus's disciples encountered this man, they immediately launched into theological speculation: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"

It's the kind of question that feels intelligent and spiritually sophisticated. They wanted to understand the problem, to trace the theological roots of suffering, to have a neat explanation for why bad things happen. They were ready to sit around and discuss the philosophical implications of human brokenness.

But Jesus shut down the discussion immediately.

"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," He answered. "This came about so that God's works might be displayed in him."

While the disciples wanted to talk about the problem, Jesus wanted to do something about it.

The Work of Transformation
Without further debate, Jesus spit on the ground, made mud, spread it on the man's eyes, and sent him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. The man left blind and came back seeing.

Just like that. No lengthy explanation of the healing process. No detailed medical report. Just transformation—real, complete, undeniable.

This is what Jesus came to do. He didn't enter our world to help us feel better about our brokenness or to give us sophisticated explanations for suffering. He came to bring hopelessly broken people into real transformation so they could live radically different lives.

Consider what "hopelessly broken" really means. The man in this story had been blind from birth. In all of human history, no one had ever heard of someone born blind receiving their sight. It was as impossible as a leopard changing its spots. Yet Jesus specializes in the impossible.

The same is true for us spiritually. Left to our own devices, we are as hopelessly broken as that blind man. Scripture tells us we've all fallen short of God's glory, that like sheep we've gone astray, each turning to our own way. We're born into spiritual darkness with no ability to fix ourselves.

A Different Kind of Life
What's remarkable about this story isn't just that the man received his sight—it's how dramatically different his life became afterward.

He had a radically different perspective. While religious leaders debated whether Jesus was from God or a sinner breaking Sabbath laws, the formerly blind man saw clearly: "He's a prophet." No debate necessary. Anyone who could do what Jesus did was obviously sent from God.

He had radically different priorities. When the religious authorities pressured his parents to denounce Jesus, fear made them equivocate. They protected their standing in the community rather than celebrate their son's healing. But the man himself refused to back down: "Whether he's a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know: I was blind but now I can see."

Truth-telling became his priority, regardless of consequences.

He lived with a radically different purpose. When Jesus found him again and revealed Himself as the Son of Man, the man's response was immediate: "I believe, Lord." And he worshiped Him. His entire existence had been reoriented around the One who had transformed him.

This is what genuine transformation looks like—not just a change in circumstances, but a complete reorientation of perspective, priorities, and purpose.

Our Self-Sufficient Resistance
The tragedy of this story isn't just that the man was born blind. It's that when Jesus showed up ready to heal, so many people wanted to do anything but let Him work.

The disciples wanted to investigate and debate. The Pharisees wanted to explain it away and maintain their theological systems. The parents wanted to protect their social standing. Everyone had an agenda that didn't involve simply surrendering to what Jesus wanted to do.

How often do we do the same thing?

We face brokenness in our lives—broken relationships, broken habits, broken hearts, broken dreams. Jesus stands ready to bring transformation, but we hold Him at arm's length. "Don't touch it, Lord. It hurts too much." Or perhaps more subtly: "I've got this. I can handle it. I just need a little more time, a better strategy, the right resources."

We investigate our problems. We develop sophisticated explanations. We try reformation—turning over new leaves and making resolutions. But what we actually need is transformation—the kind that only comes when we stop struggling and let Jesus have His way.

Seeing His Work
The central truth of this passage is beautifully simple: If we'll let Jesus have His way, we'll see Him do His work.

Not our work. Not the work we can accomplish through careful planning and strategic thinking. His work—the kind that transforms the hopelessly broken, that opens blind eyes, that makes all things new.

This applies to us individually, but it also applies to the church collectively. How often do congregations operate in self-sufficient mode, relying on programs and strategies while keeping Jesus at a safe distance? We analyze our communities. We develop ministry plans. We explain why certain approaches won't work.

Meanwhile, Jesus is ready to do what only He can do—if we'll surrender to His way rather than insisting on our own.

The Invitation
The man born blind didn't heal himself. He couldn't. He simply obeyed when Jesus told him to go and wash. He surrendered to a process he didn't understand, initiated by a man he'd never seen.

And he came back seeing.

That's the invitation extended to each of us today: Stop trying to fix yourself. Stop debating and investigating and explaining. Simply surrender to the One who specializes in transforming the hopelessly broken.

Let Him have His way. And watch Him do His work.