Journey to the Cross
I want to walk as a child of the light.
I want to follow Jesus.
God set the stars to give light to the world.
The star of my life is Jesus.
In [Christ] there is no darkness at all.
The night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God.
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.
Kathleen Thomerson in “I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light” (1970)
As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth. Jesus’ disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned so that he was born blind, this man or his parents?”
Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents. This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him. While it’s daytime, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” After he said this, he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and smeared the mud on the man’s eyes. Jesus said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (this word means sent). So the man went away and washed. When he returned, he could see.
A note sits above my keyboard. As my fingers tap, the script cheers: Don’t Forget You are a Super Woman. Keep Going! The note was passed to me by an adult with special needs as I left a church that I’d visited for the first time. We often overlook God’s children or write ourselves off for what we see as shortcomings. But that Sunday, when I was alone, a gray-haired man with a voice like a child gave me his bulletin and communion cup, and passed me a note that stirs the joy of feeling seen.
Jesus’ disciples wonder who sinned since the man was born blind; Jesus sets them straight. The man’s blindness is not about wrongdoing. Jesus sees possibility in the man, sees someone who moments later will tell of God’s love. The world saw a deficit, but not God: God saw a trusting, courageous follower. May we adjust our eyes to the “Light of the World,” illuminating the possibility that the vulnerabilities we may want to hide have power to shine forth God’s love.
Light of the world, help me to see myself and my neighbors more clearly.
Allow me to look beyond the surface, where it’s easy to find fault and lack, to the beauty and potential that lies within.
May God grant you the perfect darkness
that you may find rest that soothes your creaking soul.
May God grant you the perfect light
that you may see clearly the truths of your life
and the path the Spirit lays before you.
May you cup that light in your very being
firmly enough that it warms your aching bones should you ever feel alone,
gently enough that it seeps between your fingers and out to a yearning world.