Monday, July 7, 2008

Mud Anyone?

A mom walks into the living room and sees a purple stain on the carpet. A teacher enters her classroom and finds profanity written on the chalkboard (do they still have chalkboards?). A coach reviews a play on film where the opponent scored on his team.

In each case, they ask the same question:
Whose fault is this?

The disciples saw a blind man and asked Jesus the same question (John 9). The disciples had two suspects in custody: "this man or his parents" (v. 2).

Jesus set both suspects free: "Neither this man nor his parents sinned..." (v. 3).

His answer stumped them. His actions shocked them. Jesus started making onomatopoeic noises from the larynx. In other words, it sounded like a loogie was on the launch pad of His throat. A projectile toward the blind man appeared imminent. The disciples braced themselves, wondering,
"Yuck! Is Jesus gonna spit on this poor man?"

He didn't. Jesus spat on the ground and stuck His finger into the puddle (at this point, I can just hear the ladies saying, "Ewwww," and the men saying, "Cool!").

With His finger in the spit puddle, Jesus stirred until He made up a nice saliva salve. Then Jesus smeared the mud over the blind man's eyes.

The same man who turned water into wine now turned mud into medicine. The healing was not in the temperature or texture of the mud, but in the touch of the mud-maker. In the hands of Jesus, the available became valuable.

Mud is a strange cure for blindness. I can almost hear the once-blind man singing,
"I can see clearly now, the mud has come."

Do any of us really see clearly? Apart from Jesus' touch, aren't we all blind? Spiritually, we are as blind as someone trying to open their eyes in...mud.

If Jesus can make something noble out of something nasty by using mud to make a blind man see, can't He work the same miracle in our hearts? He can. He has.

My life once consisted of ingredients worse than mud and spit. Then Jesus touched me. He cleansed me. He changed me. He made me brand new. Not a speck of mud on me.

Halle-loogie-ya!

Clear as Mud,
Perry Crisp

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