In honor of Pastor Jeremy Jernigans very insightful teaching today, I thought it would be fun to repost this piece written in 2013. Blessings... CLAY IN THE HANDS OF GOD... So! This prophet escaping those power-hungry Pharisees in the Temple came my way! To murder him was their obvious intent, for the stones were hot in their hands! Yet as he passed he noted me! A beggar. An outcast. Blind from birth. A terrible sinner. Havent we been so taught? The greater the sin the greater the affliction? Even his disciples wondered! Some say my parents sinned. Or that I sinned in another life or would sin in this one had I not been sightless! Those blood-sucking Temple rulers can kill him yet, and me! Havent I suffered enough? Havent I considered these thoughts over and over? Unworthy of carrying on the family trade, of having one of my own to provide for? I am nothing but human garbage! Taking up space. An object of scorn and suspicion. An example of Gods Iron Fist of Judgment! Hasnt the dark spider of doubt over my life long ago sunk its fangs deep into my mind? Hearing the whispers? Knowing no answers but theirs? And now, on the Sabbath, already in jeopardy, this prophet further breaks the law by putting a medicine of spit and mud on my eyes! Ha! Clay doesnt open! It seals! Why not an ointment? Now I am to wash in the pool of Siloam? Another broken law! Should I do it? And yet...there is something about his approach, his manner, and his method that draws me. No one else would do this. What if he is Gods prophet? His touch stirs something long dead in me. A glimmer of hope. A question of faith. For isnt it said that he is the Messiah? He claims to be I AM! Blasphemy or truth? Law-breaker or Healer? He sends me to Siloam. The living waters of Mt. Zion, the waters of King David through whom the Messiah will come. Whose name means Sent. The Sent One sending me to the Pool of Sent? A rabbit trail or a path that leads back to him? What meaning in this? Must I have faith? Enough to brave breaking the Sabbath? Follow his instructions? At least I will remove this paste from my eyes and know for myself! Perhaps these thoughts raced through a mind used to introspection as the blind man goes. He washes. Rises. Breathes deeply and opens his eyes. Sight! Oh glory! This is what it is like to SEE! I have been healed! Healed! Sinner or Messiah, prophet or no, I can SEE! Does it mean my sin is forgiven? Dear God! I was as a dead man. Why did you heal me? The bands of condemnation, guilt, doubt and self-loathing break away. To find the prophet burns hot within his chest. He must know more! Was the world always this beautiful? Who but one truly sent by God could open my eyes? He said I was meant to show Gods glory? All these years with no purpose! But not so! Not so! It was all for a reason! More than clay washed away that day. Grief, gloom and uncertainty slid into the waters. Once again, mens ways were turned upside down. The unschooled became the Teacher. The blind were in the Temple, not dripping with water from the man whose heart burst with gratitude and life racing with slapping sandals back to the one he must know... Living clay speeding back to the One who shaped and reshaped him, out of mercy....and because He could. Then the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground. He breathed the breath of life into the man’s nostrils, and the man became a living person. Gen. 2:7; John 8-9
Posted on: Mon, 30 Jun 2014 02:40:39 +0000