Stories of Hope (Part 3) – The Blind Son

If you would prefer to listen to this story as an audio recording, CLICK HERE.

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Jesus came to bring

good news to the afflicted,

healing to the brokenhearted,

freedom to the captive,

comfort to those who mourn,

joy to those who sorrow,

gladness instead of tears, and

praise instead of despair.(1)

This week i conclude my three-story blog series about men and women who experienced that message of hope at the moment of their greatest despair.

Just like the first two stories, you will recognize the main character in the story. However i have added fictional elements to his story to help us better see the hopelessness he was feeling in the days, months and years of his life leading up to his unexpected encounter with the only One who was able to bring him hope.

i invite you to read (or listen to) the portion of his story you may already know … and the rest that could have been. Though some of the other characters and details contained in the story are fictional, you will find the truth conveyed about the One who brings hope to the hopeless is very REAL! My prayer is that you will allow this story to be a personal reminder that the One who brought him hope is capable of bringing it to each one of us today … if we will only receive it.

For those of you who would prefer to listen to his story, you will find the link above.

Stories of Hope (part 1) - The Despairing Father (Two weeks ago – June 29)

Stories of Hope (part 2) - The Woman Who Had Lost All Hope (Last week - July 6)

Stories of Hope (part 3) - The Blind Son (This week - July 13)

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My name is Celidonius and I grew up as an only child in Siloam, a small village just south of Jerusalem. My mother, Imma, and my father, Matthias, both grew up in our village, so everyone knows us. My father is a hardworking carpenter who has done work for most everyone in Siloam.

My mother is known for her beautiful voice; in fact, some say she sings like a meadowlark. From an early age her melodic sonnets soothed everyone within earshot. My father tells me he first heard her sing when he was a young boy. He says he was so smitten by her voice that he knew right then he would one day marry her.

My earliest memories are my mother’s voice and the brightness of her songs. I was born without the ability to see, but through her music I was able to discover the beauty of the world around me. My parents were devastated that I was blind. As a matter of fact, they chose not to have any more children for fear they would be born the same way. But I was never exposed to their sadness or discouragement.

On the contrary, my mother was always joyful and cheerful whenever she was around me. She was my sunlight – even on those days when I felt sorry for myself. She would not allow me to languish in my melancholy; rather, she would lead me on a lyrical journey to faraway places and describe in great detail the beauty that surrounded me. I never felt as if I were missing out on anything growing up. In many respects, I felt like I was experiencing so much more – and in many ways, I believe I was.

However, I was not oblivious to the gossip in our village about me and the speculation about what sins my parents had committed to cause my blindness. Though I couldn’t see their faces, I could hear their every word. I soon realized that the world around me was not quite so kind as the world my parents had created for me.

My father would often allow me to accompany him to the synagogue. I was always in awe of the words of God as the rabbi read from the Scriptures. I worked at memorizing the words so I could recite them to myself later. I found great strength and encouragement in those words. Over time, I became particularly fascinated by the words of the prophets about the coming Messiah. My heart raced when the rabbi read, “And when He comes, He will open the eyes of the blind and unplug the ears of the deaf.”(2) I prayed that the Messiah would come soon and open my eyes!

Another place I enjoyed spending time was the pool inside of our village. The waters in the pool are fed from the Gihon Spring to the north, and it is part of a system of smaller pools that was designed by King Hezekiah to serve as freshwater reservoirs. But the pool of Siloam is the largest of them all, measuring two hundred twenty-five feet in width. It is occasionally used as a mikvah for ritual bathing, but residents primarily use it for swimming. I recall many hot summer days when I accompanied my father to the pool to cool off. During the warmer times of year, it was always a major gathering place in our village.

As I grew older, my parents explained that I needed to learn how to be independent. I would not always have them to rely on; plus, I did not want to be a burden to them. Though I would never be a skilled carpenter like my father, God had gifted me with a soothing voice like my mother’s. She and I had been singing together for as long as I could remember, and I had an endless repertoire of songs stored in my heart.

When I became an adult, one of my parents led me each day to a place just outside the gates of our village. We would find a shady spot for me along the heavily traveled trade road to Jerusalem. I would then serenade weary travelers as they passed by me. My hope was that my songs would lighten their hearts as they journeyed, and they would return the gift by sharing a coin or two with me.

Some travelers also gave me food or other trinkets. I became well-known by those who regularly traveled the road, and many started to watch for me. Some would ask me to sing their favorite song. Others would stop to rest and have a conversation with me. Some learned my favorite foods or my preferred trinkets and started carrying them on their journey specifically for me.

One day, I sensed a large group of people approaching me on the road. I began to sing just a little bit louder to attract their attention. I strained my ears to hear what I could. It sounded like a Teacher answering His students’ questions. I sensed someone walking over to me, so I stopped singing and looked up in the direction of my approaching visitor.

“May God’s peace be on you, brother,” he said. Then he handed me a piece of bread. He asked how long I had been blind and why I was sitting here along the road. I explained I had been blind since birth, and I came here each day to sing for travelers as they passed by. I told him they would often share a few coins or a little food with me for my effort.

Suddenly, I heard the man call out to his group, “Teacher, why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sins?”(3)

It must have been the Teacher who replied, “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins. This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”(4)

I had heard a lot of reasons over the years as to why I had been born blind. But I had never had anyone say, “so the power of God could be seen in me!”(5) Those accompanying this Teacher were silent, obviously puzzled by what He said. How was the power of God being displayed through my life as I sat here beside the road? Though I am grateful to God for the singing voice He gave me, there is nothing powerful or very God-like about me!

The Teacher spoke again saying, “We must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the One who sent us.(6) The time is quickly coming when we will no longer be able to do any work. But the Father has placed Me here in the world for just such a moment. I am the light of the world.(7) And where there is light there can be no darkness.”

As I listened to Him speak, I could tell He was walking toward me. I heard Him spit on the ground in front of me. I had no idea what He was doing! I wanted to ask, but I refrained from doing so. The next thing I knew, He was spreading something on my eyes. It felt like mud! Why was this Man spreading mud on my eyes?!

Then He said to me, “Go wash yourself in the pool.”(8) Immediately, I stood to my feet. I had no idea who this Man was, or what He had just done, but He spoke with such authority I felt compelled to obey.

I stood there trying to figure out how I was going to make my way to the pool. I was grateful when someone walked up to me and placed my hand on his shoulder. Quietly the man said, “Follow me.”

When we got to the pool, I knelt down and began to wash my eyes. As the mud disappeared, I began to squint. What was that? Light? It was brighter than I ever imagined! I instinctively raised my hand to shield my eyes. As I did, the light was no longer as bright. I moved my hand away and the brightness returned. The light was changing because of my hand … and I could see it!

My eyelids began to blink rapidly. As my eyes began to adjust, my senses were bombarded with the new sensations of light and color.

I looked at the man who apparently led me to the pool. I stood and held his face in my hands. I had never seen another person. I had never seen anything! Suddenly, I was overcome with joy.

“Where is the Man who spread the mud on my eyes?” I asked. The man pointed to another Man in the distance and told me His name was Jesus. I wanted to run to Him, but I had never run before. I had never even walked without the aid of another person. As I headed toward the One who had just given me the ability to see, I remembered the promise from Isaiah that I had so often repeated – “And when He comes, He will open the eyes of the blind and unplug the ears of the deaf.”(9)

When I got to Jesus, I knelt at His feet. I tried to express my thanks – but the words seemed so insufficient. I looked up at Him and He smiled at me. I had never seen anyone smile before. Then He told me to get up and go back into the village and find my parents. I had no idea where they were. I had no idea where my home was! Every step would be a new adventure!

As I made my way to find my family, I kept wondering: Was my sight given when Jesus applied the mud? Or was it given when I walked in obedience to the pool? Something inside me said it was the latter – that Jesus gave me sight in response to my faith. But one thing I now knew for sure – why He had said, “so the power of God could be seen in him.”(10)

People in my village couldn’t believe their eyes when I arrived. Several pointed at me and asked, “Isn’t this Celidonius, the man who used to sit and beg?”(11) The response among them was mixed. I told them, “Yes, I am Celidonius! The man they call Jesus made mud and spread it over my eyes and told me, ‘Go to the pool of Siloam and wash yourself.’ So, I went and washed, and now I can see!”(12)

My neighbors said I must go see the Pharisees in the synagogue so they, too, could praise God. But first I wanted to see my parents. “Come with us to see the Pharisees,” they said, “and then we will take you to see your parents.”

The reaction of the Pharisees shocked me when I shared my news. Instead of rejoicing in the miracle with me, some began to denounce Jesus because He had given me my sight on the Sabbath. They set out to disprove the miracle. They questioned me again to see if there were inconsistencies in my story.

“What’s your opinion about this Man who healed you?”(13) they asked.

“My opinion? “I think He must be a prophet.(14) Who but a prophet could do these things?”

The Pharisees then sent for my parents so they could question them, as well. That was the first beneficial thing they had done since I arrived. I wanted to see my parents! When they arrived, I could not believe my eyes. My mother was beautiful! I had always known she was – but now I could see her with my own eyes. I ran to them and we embraced, as tears of joy streamed down our cheeks.

The Pharisees were growing impatient with our family reunion and interrupted us with questions. Yes, my parents confirmed – I was their son Celidonius, and yes, I had in fact been born blind. No, they had no idea how I was now able to see, short of a miracle.

People from the village began to stream into the synagogue to see me for themselves. They had heard about the miracle, but they wanted to see me with their own eyes.

It was obvious the Pharisees were trying to discredit Jesus by discrediting the miracle. It was equally obvious they would seek retribution against anyone who stood in their way. But my parents’ testimony left little doubt that a miracle had taken place. So, now the Pharisees acknowledged the miracle but continued in their attempt to dishonor Jesus. “God should get the glory for this, but we know this man Jesus is a sinner.”(15)

“I don’t know whether He is a sinner,” I replied. “But I know this: I was blind, and now I can see!”(16)

The more they tried to discredit Jesus, the more I was drawn to Him. “Look!” I exclaimed. “I told you once. Didn’t you listen? Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become His disciples, too?”(17)

My question unleashed their fury. “You may be His disciple,” they said, “but we are disciples of Moses! We know God spoke to Moses, but we don’t even know where this Man comes from.”(18)

“Why, that’s very strange!” I replied. “He healed my eyes, and yet you don’t know where He comes from? We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners, but He is ready to hear those who worship Him and do His will. Ever since the world began, no one has been able to open the eyes of someone born blind. If this man were not from God, He couldn’t have done it.”(19)

“You were born a total sinner!” they raged. “Are you trying to teach us?”(20)

They were so furious they “excommunicated” me from the synagogue. This would be the first and last time I would see the inside of our synagogue. The crowd gasped. The Pharisees had just wielded the only real power they had over me – and my only offense had been that I spoke the truth.

The synagogue was the center of our village life. Being thrown out of the synagogue was tantamount to being ostracized from the village. My parents and my neighbors would no longer be permitted to have anything to do with me. On what should have been the happiest day of my life, I sadly turned and walked out of the synagogue. The Pharisees turned their backs to me. My parents stood there stunned, and the crowd watched in disbelief.

As I walked through the village, Jesus came upon me and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”(21) I answered, “Who is He, Sir? I want to believe in Him.”(22) “You have seen Him,” Jesus said, “and He is speaking to you!”(23) “Yes, Lord, I believe!”(24) I said. And I fell down at the feet of Jesus and worshiped Him! Ironically, the Pharisees’ arguments had convinced me that Jesus truly is the One whose coming was promised.

Since I was no longer welcome in my synagogue or village, I decided right then to follow Jesus as one of His disciples. As we headed out of town, a man and woman came running to catch up with us. It was my parents! They told me that if I could not remain in the village, neither would they. They wanted to be with me and learn more about this One who had given me sight. As our journey continued, Jesus opened their eyes, as well.

My mother began to sing a most glorious tune. Soon I raised my voice with her:

Sing to the Lord a new song;
    sing to the Lord, all the earth.
Sing to the Lord and praise His name;
    every day tell how He saves us.
Tell the nations of His glory;
    tell all peoples the miracles He does,

because the Lord is great; He should be praised at all times.(25)

As we continued to sing, Jesus stopped walking and so did the rest of His followers. Everyone lifted their voice to join with us as we sang to the One who stood before me … and He received the praise and worship He alone is due!

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This story is taken from The One Who Stood Before Us, a collection of forty short stories. The complete collection is available through Amazon in standard print, large print, for your e-reader. Click HERE for more information on how you can obtain your copy.

You can listen to an audio recording of this story by tuning into this week’s episode of my podcast by CLICKING HERE

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Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

The Scripture references are as follows:

(1) Isaiah 61:1-3 (paraphrase)

(2) Isaiah 35:5

(3) John 9:2

(4) John 9:3

(5) John 9:3

(6) John 9:4

(7) John 9:5

(8) John 9:7

(9) Isaiah 35:5

(10) John 9:3

(11) John 9:8

(12) John 9:11

(13) John 9:17

(14) John 9:17

(15) John 9:24

(16) John 9:25

(17) John 9:27

(18) John 9:28

(19) John 9:30-33

(20) John 9:34

(21) John 9:35

(22) John 9:36

(23) John 9:37

(24) John 9:38

(25) Psalm 96:1-4 (NCV)

Photo by LUMO-The Gospels for the visual age on Lightstock

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