Fourth Sunday of Lent - Laetare Sunday

Samuel looks at Jesse's oldest son - tall, impressive - and thinks: this is the one. God says no. I don't see the way you see. Man looks at the appearance. I look at the heart. Seven sons pass. None is chosen. The youngest, out tending sheep, not even invited to the meeting - that's the one. David.

The man born blind doesn't ask for healing. Jesus finds him. Makes clay. Anoints his eyes. Sends him to wash. He comes back seeing. And then the seeing people - the Pharisees, the religious experts, the ones with perfect theological vision - interrogate him, reject him, and throw him out.

The blind man's testimony never changes: I was blind and now I see. He can't explain the theology. He can't win the argument. He just knows what happened to him.

In your twenties, there's pressure to have all the answers. To defend your faith with arguments and evidence and certainty. The man born blind didn't have any of that. He had a story: I was blind. Now I see. That was enough.

Paul writes to the Ephesians: you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Not "you were in darkness." You were darkness. And now you are light. The transformation isn't partial. It's total. Awake, O sleeper. Arise from the dead. Christ will give you light.

Laetare Sunday is a pause in Lent. Rejoice. The light is winning. Even when you can't see it yet.