When Sight Has Not Yet Formed
"Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him." - John 9:3
A close friend and mentor once said, “If you have certainty, you don’t need God.” These words have stayed with me, reminding me to be patient in understanding and to trust in God's timing. Yet I still held a quiet hope that if I prayed faithfully and examined my heart thoughtfully, the haze would somehow part and give definition to my uncertainty.
What I am realizing is more nuanced. Understanding doesn't always come in the form of clear answers. Some questions aren't solved by more reflection but are meant to be held and lived. Faith, in these seasons, is staying present when sight has not yet formed. Some questions stretch our hearts rather than settle them. In that stretching, I am invited not to seek immediate resolution but to remain open and tender with God about what I cannot yet see.
In today’s Gospel, the disciples meet a man born blind. Their first instinct is to seek an explanation, something tangible to grasp. I notice the same instinct in myself, tempted to ask “why” rather than “how” God is inviting me to walk this journey with Him. But Jesus does not answer the “why.” He reframes the moment entirely. Not who is at fault, but what God might reveal here.
The man born blind does not gain full understanding all at once. His sight unfolds gradually. He walks toward the pool without seeing, obeys before he understands, and trusts before his vision is restored. Perhaps the true miracle is not the mud or the pool itself, but the slow maturation of sight. And perhaps my own greatest blindness is not confusion, but the belief that I should already see clearly. The deeper healing may be learning to live humbly within what is still forming.
There are moments when I ache for clarity, not only for myself but for those I cherish. I long for assurance that love can withstand shifting seasons and that what feels fragile to me is secure in God’s hands. In these unsettled days, as our world feels strained by conflict, I find myself yearning for a peace that transcends headlines and anchors the heart beyond fear. Beneath it all is a tender truth. I want to stay close. Close to the people entrusted to my care. Close to what is good. And close to the Presence who holds both my heart and this restless world.
Lord, grant me courage to let love stretch and humility to trust what I cannot yet see.
Tam Lontok