Spit, Mud, and the Sovereignty of God
Introduction: The Tyranny of Tidy Explanations
One of the persistent temptations for the thinking Christian is the desire to domesticate God. We want a God who fits neatly into our theological systems, a God whose actions can be plotted on a flowchart. We want to be able to explain every instance of suffering with a tidy, one-to-one causal explanation. If something bad happens, we want to know whose fault it is. We want a karma machine, but with biblical proof texts. This impulse is not entirely wrong; God is a God of order, and He has revealed that sin has consequences. But when this impulse becomes our controlling grid for interpreting the world, it becomes a form of intellectual pride. It reduces the sovereign, mysterious, and glorious God of the universe to a predictable cosmic administrator.
The disciples of Jesus, in our text today, are Exhibit A for this kind of thinking. They see a man born blind, and for them, he is not primarily a man to be pitied, but a theological problem to be solved. Their question is not one of compassion but of causation. They want to assign blame. They want to file this tragedy in the correct theological cabinet. But Jesus refuses to play their game. He shatters their tidy system with a breathtaking statement about the ultimate purpose of all things, including broken things. He demonstrates that the universe is not a courtroom where blame is the most important verdict; it is a theater where God's glory is the most important performance.
This passage is a direct assault on every form of the prosperity gospel, every form of therapeutic deism, and every attempt by man to climb into the judge's seat and pronounce verdicts on the suffering of others. Jesus redirects our gaze from the horizontal question of human fault to the vertical reality of divine purpose. And in doing so, He shows us that even the most profound darkness is but a canvas for the display of His light.
The Text
As He passed by, He saw a man blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this was so that the works of God might be manifested in him. We must work the works of Him who sent Me as long as it is day; night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When He had said this, He spat on the ground, made clay of the saliva, and rubbed the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which is translated, Sent). So he went away and washed, and came back seeing. Therefore the neighbors, and those who previously saw him as a beggar, were saying, “Is not this the one who used to sit and beg?” Others were saying, “This is he,” still others were saying, “No, but he is like him.” He kept saying, “I am the one.” So they were saying to him, “How then were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man who is called Jesus made clay, and rubbed my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash’; so when I went away and washed, I received sight.” And they said to him, “Where is He?” He said, “I do not know.”
(John 9:1-12 LSB)
The Disciples' Diagnostic Error (vv. 1-2)
We begin with the setup and the faulty question.
"As He passed by, He saw a man blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?'" (John 9:1-2)
Jesus sees a man. The disciples see a case study. The man's condition, blindness from birth, presents a theological conundrum for their system. Their operating assumption is that significant suffering must be the result of a significant, specific sin. So they present Jesus with their two options. The first option is that his parents sinned, a principle they might have wrongly derived from passages like Exodus 20:5. The second option, that the man himself sinned, is more puzzling. How could he have sinned before birth to cause his own blindness? This was a fringe rabbinic speculation, the idea that a baby could sin in the womb. But the absurdity of the option shows how committed they were to their premise. They would rather entertain a bizarre theological theory than question their fundamental assumption that suffering is always directly punitive.
This is a cruel theology. It adds accusation to affliction. It forces the sufferer to bear not only his disability but also the judgmental gaze of the community. It is the same logic used by Job's friends, who were certain that his immense suffering must be the result of some secret, heinous sin. God called their counsel "folly" (Job 42:8). And here, Jesus will do the same. The disciples are not wrong to believe that sin is the ultimate cause of all suffering in the world. We live in a fallen world, groaning under the curse of Adam's sin (Romans 8:22). But they were profoundly wrong to assume they could draw a straight, causal line from this particular affliction back to a particular sin.
The Divine Reframe (v. 3)
Jesus' answer does not select one of their options; it obliterates the premise of their question.
"Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this was so that the works of God might be manifested in him.'" (John 9:3)
Jesus is not saying that this man and his parents are sinless people. He is saying that their sin is not the specific, causal reason for this blindness. The reason for this man's lifelong darkness was not punitive, but doxological. It was for the glory of God. This man was born blind so that, on this particular day, at this particular moment, the Son of God could walk by and display His divine power, His creative authority, and His compassionate glory. God ordained this man's entire life, his decades of darkness and begging, to be the theater for this one, glorious act of divine revelation.
This is a hard truth, but it is a glorious one. It means that God is sovereign over suffering. It means that suffering is not meaningless. It means that God is such a masterful artist that He can take the most broken, painful realities of a fallen world and weave them into a tapestry that displays His own magnificence. This man's blindness was not a divine mistake or an unforeseen tragedy. It was an appointment. His suffering had a telos, a purpose, and that purpose was the manifestation of the works of God. This is the foundational truth of a robust Christian theodicy. God does not waste our pain. He leverages it for His glory, which is our ultimate good.
Light and Labor (vv. 4-5)
Jesus immediately connects this specific act of healing to His entire Messianic mission.
"We must work the works of Him who sent Me as long as it is day; night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." (John 9:4-5)
Jesus sees His time on earth as a "day" for work. The "night" He speaks of is His coming arrest and crucifixion, when His public ministry of healing and teaching will end. There is a divine urgency to His mission. But notice what He says in verse 5: "While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." This healing is therefore an enacted parable. He is about to give physical light to a blind man to demonstrate that He is the source of all spiritual light for a blind world. He is not just a miracle worker; He is the Light. His work is to invade the darkness of sin and unbelief and bring the light of the knowledge of God.
This miracle is a sign that points to a greater reality. Just as this man is helpless in his physical darkness, all men are helpless in their spiritual darkness. And just as Jesus is the only one who can bring light to these blind eyes, He is the only one who can bring salvation to our blind hearts.
An Earthy, Scandalous Grace (vv. 6-7)
The method Jesus employs is intentionally earthy, physical, and even a bit scandalous.
"When He had said this, He spat on the ground, made clay of the saliva, and rubbed the clay on his eyes, and said to him, 'Go, wash in the pool of Siloam' (which is translated, Sent)." (John 9:6-7)
Why not just speak a word, as He did on other occasions? Why the spit and mud? This is a deliberate echo of the creation account. The Lord God formed the first man from the dust of the ground (Genesis 2:7). Here, Jesus, the Lord incarnate, takes the dust of the ground, mixes it with the water from His own mouth, and in effect re-creates this man's eyes. It is a profound statement of His authority as the Creator. This is not just a healing; it is a creative act.
This act also forces the blind man into a position of humble faith. Imagine it. A stranger spits, makes a mud pie, and smears it on your face, then gives you a command to go wash in a public pool. It's absurd. It's humiliating. But obedience is the necessary vessel of faith. The man had to trust the command, despite the strangeness of the means. And John, under the inspiration of the Spirit, tells us the meaning of the pool's name: Siloam means "Sent." The man is being sent to wash in the pool named "Sent" by the one who was "Sent" from the Father (John 9:4). He is being washed in the authority and power of Jesus Christ, the Sent One. This is a beautiful picture of salvation. We are saved by grace, through a faith that obeys the Sent One.
The Simple Testimony (vv. 8-12)
The result of the man's obedience is immediate, and the reaction of the community is telling.
"So he went away and washed, and came back seeing... He kept saying, 'I am the one.'... He answered, 'The man who is called Jesus made clay, and rubbed my eyes, and said to me, "Go to Siloam and wash"; so when I went away and washed, I received sight.'" (John 9:7, 9, 11)
The miracle creates a social crisis. The neighbors cannot process what has happened. Their world has been disrupted. They debate his very identity. "Is it him? No, it just looks like him." A true work of God always forces a decision. But the man's testimony is beautifully simple and unshakeable. First, he affirms his identity: "I am the one." The grace of God did not make him a different person; it made him a whole person. Second, when asked "how," he does not offer a theological treatise. He simply reports the facts. "A man named Jesus made clay, put it on my eyes, told me to wash, and I did, and now I see."
This is the essence of a powerful testimony. It is not our job to explain the divine mechanics of regeneration. It is our job to state what happened. Our testimony is not "I figured it all out," but rather, "I was blind, and now I see. He did it." The man does not even know where Jesus is. His faith is not in his proximity to Jesus, but in the work that Jesus did. He stands on the fact of his transformation, and against this simple, factual testimony, all the theological squabbling of the Pharisees will eventually shatter.
Conclusion: From Blindness to Belief
This entire event is a living sermon. Every one of us is born blind from birth. Our spiritual condition is congenital. We are born in the darkness of Adam's sin, unable to see the glory of God in the face of Christ. And the question that matters is not, "Whose fault is it?" The fault is clear; we are a race of rebels. The question that matters is the one Jesus answers: "What is the purpose?"
The purpose of our spiritual blindness is to provide the dark canvas upon which God can display the glorious light of His sovereign grace. The gospel is the story of God, in the person of Jesus Christ, condescending to our dusty, dirty condition. He mixes His own divine life with our humanity, and He commands us to wash in the cleansing power of His finished work. The call is to repent and believe, to go and wash.
And when He gives us sight, our task is simple. When the world, confused and hostile, asks us what happened, we are not required to give them a sophisticated lecture on soteriology. We are simply to say, "I am the one. I was a slave to sin, I was lost, I was in darkness. But the man called Jesus found me, He changed me, and now I can see." That is a testimony that cannot be refuted. It is the simple, powerful declaration that the Light of the World has performed His work in you, all for the manifestation of the glory of God.