Neither
The psalter has no Saturday morning lauds.
Vespers, yes. Lauds, no. No morning lauds on Saturday.
I’m working my way into the rhythm of fixed-hours prayer.
Gradually. As in, I’m not sure I’ve made any progress. I switched up my normal morning time together with God to a prayer book to help me find my way into the practice. So to date, the morning continues on as before, just spent with the Psalms in the morning lauds instead of my usual reading to lead me into prayer.
Adding the intentional midday, vespers and compline? We’re getting there, though it’s admittedly a lot more like uneven than fixed.
But here’s the thing about Saturday: there are no morning lauds.
Parking the Car
I spend my Saturday morning with God somewhere else, somewhere of my own choosing, somewhere without a street name that’s unfamiliar to one who grew up inside the church but outside the traditions of liturgy and psalters and books of common prayer.
Saturday I steered the car over to John 9. A chapter full of mud and spit, finger-pointing and point-missing, and a roadside theologian/comedian with a white cane and a tin cup who got booed right off the temple stage.
I parked the car and stayed for the show, something the schedule hasn’t been kind enough to allow much of lately.
And it was so much fun.
Roll down your window and tip the seat back a little. We’re sticking around for a few days.
Missing the Point
It’s always a good sign when I can’t make it past the second verse.
As Jesus and His guys walked along, they came across a blind man. Blind from birth. How they knew, we don’t know. But they knew.
Just like they knew that it had to be somebody’s fault.
If a guy is blind, and it’s not because he was struck by some sight-eating disease or injured in an eye-damaging accident, then somebody messed up somewhere. That was the only way they could see it.
And the big question was Who screwed up?
Did he sin? Or was it his parents?
Jesus, they seemed to say, Here’s this guy by the side of the road, oozing sin. He’s screaming “object lesson.” So seize the teachable moment. Teach us about sin.
Tell us the most important thing: Who did it?
Jesus, in fact always on the lookout for opportunities to pour the life of His teaching into His guys, did seize the moment. His answer?
Simple: Neither.
The man was blind due to neither his own nor his parents’ sin.
It was nobody’s fault. He was blind by design.
This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in Him. (vs. 3)
It was all about this moment, one in which His power would be unleashed to give something amazing to this man who had never once seen a sunset or his own face in the mirror or his mother’s tender smile. Here, today, he would see.
While the disciples reduced him to no more than an object lesson on the horrible consequences of (somebody else’s) sin, Jesus saw not just a teaching moment but a healing moment.
He moved toward the blind man in raw compassion rather than standing at a distance to apply His intellect to this theological riddle of a man.
I’m Blind Too, I Guess
Not long ago I looked hard into the eyes another feeling like the sightless one on the roadside, wondering why the pain had come, and why it had come in the way it had. As I listened, standing limp and powerless, the ache overtook me too. I considered the blind man of whom I’d just read in John 9.
Blind so God could display His wonders.
Was He now working in this beautiful one’s life in order to display His greatness? Where’s the raw compassion in that?
Leaning shoulder to shaking shoulder on the back of a wooden pew, I said I thought God was crazy (and I meant that in the most reverent way possible), but I wasn’t quite sure what kind of crazy. Seems that it takes a twisted up kind of crazy to mess somebody up just to fix them.
But wasn’t that just what He did here? He brought us a blind man so we could see Him with a brand new pair of eyes.
I tell God that I think He could come off as pretty amazing by having a fellow born seeing as much as by working it out later. But even as I begin to question His goodness at doing a thing in such a mangled up order, I wonder if that’s part of my own blindness at work.
For I don’t marvel as well at a baby born with two eyes that see so much as I would at a grown man seeing the light for the very first time.
::
Photo: Visual aid by Adrian Van Leen
My third sister (sixth sibling) emailed me from college one day last month, telling me she’d been reading my blog and asked God if He would take my depression away, because it seemed very hard to her.
He said no; He was using it for Himself.
I was quite annoyed with Him that day.
I don’t want to be used. I want to be healed. You know, in the functional, “I can do everything I set out to do” sort of way. The “I can be like everyone else and live beyond my current limitations” sort of way. The “I don’t have to notice anything now, I can go on my merry way sort of way.”
Do you think He knows I’m like the nine lepers who didn’t return to thank Him, so He waits for me to notice Him?
Thinkin’ out loud in your comment box. This was a good one, Ly. Love you.
2010/11/24 at 6:29 AM
He does have a thing about being seen, noticed. But He also has a thing about waiting for us to get on board.
I’m so grateful for His waiting…
2010/11/24 at 10:51 PM
I would love to see how you parallel park.
You take me down the street. And I want to stay there too. Friend, you just amaze me with your passion for the Word. I’ve been reading through the Bible in year (almost there) and these past couple weeks have been in Daniel. I had to read a bit aloud to my eleven year old this morning (since they are off school this week he has invaded my quiet time. The teen-age sleeps in). Isn’t God amazing? Isn’t His word Wonder-filled? Still, I often pray to hear “the way Lyla does”. I love your insights.
Happy turkey day, dear friend. May your holiday be abundantly blessed.
2010/11/24 at 8:55 AM
Reading the words aloud — do you notice sometimes they sound different out in the air they they do in your head? Sometimes, even by myself, I have to read it aloud to understand it. There’s something about hearing how the words truly sound.
And thank you for your kindness, friend. Love to you.
2010/11/24 at 10:54 PM
I’m writing a blog post on a group of cornea transplant receipients who have been turned loose with cameras. What they value, what they treasure in sight is pretty amazing.
I love this image — and the word pictures as well.
“….marvel…at a grown man seeing the light for the very first time”
A well – written, contemplative and moving post.
Have I told you that you are one of my favorite writers?
2010/11/24 at 12:55 PM
David, I’ve been looking forward to that post since you mentioned it at your place the other day. I see so much sometimes I have to close my eyes. To see what one had never, ever seen? I can’t begin…
Thanks for your words, David. I know many of the folks you read, and you’re being far too generous.
2010/11/24 at 10:55 PM
You have eyes to see Lyla – wonderful insights and deep truths. You see to the heart of things and have the courage to ask the questions we harbor in the secret places.
I am encouraged that He welcomes those questions and that He teaches us through ways that seem so upside-down to us.
I loved this – for I have wondered those very same things.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving Lyla.
2010/11/24 at 2:31 PM
Linda, we do tuck those questions away sometimes, don’t we? And sometimes I think that’s okay. We just let Him take them, answers or not, and settle down with knowing that as long as He understands, it’s all going to be okay.
But then there are those others, the ones I have to ask. The process of asking helps me to see Him bigger and greater and more alive even as my soul gets all disturbed at His doings sometimes.
2010/11/24 at 10:58 PM
I’m interested in David’s post–what do they value that we miss? It’s hard to fathom those instances when God simply replies “for my glory”. But were it not for them, I’m afraid I wouldn’t stop and take notice either. It’s a blessing we’d never choose for ourselves, like a down syndrome child. Yet, over and over, I read about those parents who have learned to love more than they ever thought possible.
2010/11/24 at 11:17 PM
David’s post will be a good one, Jennifer. They always are.
But His glory, it’s what it’s always about. His love for us, every last thing He does for us.
2010/11/25 at 9:44 PM
Ahh, John. I have been reading here as well – soaking in chapter 5. Also just read a historical fiction book by Bodie & Brock Thoene called First Light that lifted this blind man off the pages of Scripture. This line from the book – “Only by seeing the True Light can you be healed and delivered from the blindness in your heart!” – makes my heart ask the Lord to heal and deliver me from my own blindness. That He would give me eyes to see like He sees.
Love the places you drive and park – love the way you see The Word.
2010/11/24 at 11:43 PM
His light, Nancy. When He is the light itself. How can I miss that sometimes?
2010/11/25 at 9:54 PM
I’m having a hard time buying the idea that God includes human misery in his plan, in order to reverse it as might be suggested here. I’m more inclined to think that this man’s blindness occurred like many of the other miseries of earth because we live in a broken world, albeit broken by sin, but not on a direct misery per sin basis. For me, this is more a case of Jesus teaching us to find meaning in suffering, not blame or retribution for sin. I can not help but observe as well, not only the Disciples’ “which one sinned” as a flawed view of the relationship between sin and suffering, but an even more flawed view of God. In a sense they are not only seeking to know who sinned, but also showing that they viewed every misery and every human misfortune as punishment from God. They may as well have said, “Is god punishing him for his sin or his parent’s sin?” Perhaps the teachable moment is about the grace of God, and about the compassion of Christ, who healed not so much as a teaching tool or a means of persuasion, and far more because he just couldn’t pass by, and leave him there. If misery is a part of God’s design, how do we know when to intervene, or if we should? We can never fully appreciate His Grace, unless we see the blindness, rather than sin, and we see His Compassion, not His retribution.
2010/11/27 at 5:35 PM
Uncle, I do think it was His compassion that moved Him, more than a desire to teach. That’s part of the “works of God” we would see displayed. He saw the man first, then the disciples. So I believe that did capture Him first, more than the clamoring for a reason and explanation and most importantly for them, the blame.
What I have trouble with is reading the text as anything other that what Jesus said: “This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in Him.” (vs. 3) I agree the misery comes as a result of the fall and not just a quid pro quo repayment for specific sin. (All have sinned, so if we were to argue that, all of us should be blind. And since the wages of sin is death, the blind man was severely underpaid. As have been I.)
I struggle with the idea of God causing misery in order to display His greatness and mercy and power and love. I do make room for Him allowing it though, as opposed to causing it, even for the purpose of manifesting His glory. In this case, His healing was delayed — He had the opportunity to heal this man before He was born. (I don’t have to believe God made the man blind, just that He let him be born that way.) But we wouldn’t have honored Him for it. It would have gone right past us like every other time a child is born seeing.
And He allowed Satan, within the defined scope, to let loose on Job. That extends beyond our operation in a fallen and broken world and how a broken nature and our own brokenness breaks others, though there’s plenty of that kind of misery to go around too.
I prefer to think of Him you describe. But I also have to always leave room to consider that He’s not how I see Him, or how I want to see Him. He’s told us enough times that what He does, even when it benefits us, is for the sake of His name. That leaves the door wide open for Him to be anything but how I envision.
This is a bit of a ramble. I think I tend to agree with you, though I probably didn’t make that terribly clear. And always, I defer to your scholarly wisdom over my amateur perceptions (though, if you mention that at the next family gathering I’ll deny it). But what it maybe comes back to for me is, What if He did? Because I can’t say for sure. And if He did, would I still be okay with that kind of God?
2010/11/27 at 5:56 PM
Ah yes, the text vs 3! When to go literal? I never really quite know. Its the literal only dilemma, that troubles me and the implications of the literal. How to explain all the “non healings” in the world. Maybe the problem is that we should look at this within the narrow context of this event, and refrain from extrapolating it all to some overarching explanation of the universe. I think I will work on the idea that God neither causes or allows specific misery or pain, but teaches us all to see his grace “displayed”, even when he says, “my grace is sufficient for thee” I definitely believe that he does not display His grace to convince us or prove himself to us. He did say once that there would be only one sign, the sign of Jonah. Lastly, I’ll throw in this, on at least one occasion, He healed by telling someone “your sins are forgiven!
I think the matter of my scholar persona at family gatherings was ruled on long ago and rendered moot. I once told Grandpa Al that I wasn’t as dumb as I look, to which he repied, “you couldn’t be!” Now there’s the wisdom.
2010/11/27 at 7:05 PM
David, where were you when I was in the throes of the Book of Judges?
This thing, this I’ll hang onto: His grace is sufficient. No matter what.
2010/11/27 at 7:17 PM
I’ll take mercy over justice any day!
2010/11/27 at 7:36 PM
I don’t know how it happens, but this I know: I was blind but now I see.
Your Word-words are illuminating. They help me see.
I’ve pulled over the car, am leaning back in the seat, soaking this in. So, so good.
2010/11/28 at 12:59 AM
Ahh, you have it right there my friend. “I was blind but now I see.” It’s as simple as that.
But I have a few verses to contend with before I get that far.
2010/11/28 at 9:05 PM
interesting,
the many different ways of seeing…
2010/11/29 at 3:11 PM
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Hi Lyla,
I wandered over from David’s post at High Calling–so glad I did. This was truly lovely; one of those hard passages that is so familiar. I appreciate your patience in slowing down, taking it apart, seeing the goodness and kindness of Christ only two verses into the passage.
Was so honored to be included in David’s post with you. Blessings.
2010/12/02 at 8:58 PM