The healing of the man born blind is significant if only because it had never been done before. No one had ever gained sight when they were born without it. Not in the Old Testament, nor in any stories from ancient times that I can recall. It was a miracle without parallel. It entailed not just fixing a damaged organ but essentially creating new ones, new eyes.   But beyond the physical healing, more important is what is signified by the miracle.

As we continue our Lenten journey towards Good Friday, towards the cross, the story of Nicodemus reminds us what this is all about, what the Bible and the church say is the reason God sent Jesus: that no matter how far we feel from God, no matter how long we’ve lived ignoring God’s presence in our lives, no matter what we’ve done or how guilty we feel, or wounded or sullied, Jesus came to save us, to redeem us, to give us new life, eternal life.

What thing in your life is in danger of taking over? What do you love too much in the wrong way? Whatever “it” is, God calls us to end it, to give it up. But that “giving up” need not be some great courageous act of renunciation, rejecting the world and becoming a monk, say. Likely more helpful is to start small, to take baby steps toward new life, beginning by denying ourselves some small things in order to be receptive to greater goods in our lives.

At the Transfiguration, divinity refused to be contained to heaven but erupts into this world, making clear to the disciples and to us, that the transcendent world, the world of God and spirits, is real, just as real as the one we can touch and see and taste, and just as present.

A church that doesn’t invite people or that stops inviting people is not a “true Bible church,” not Jesus’ church. From the first, Jesus promises that if we sign on with him, he will teach us, will teach us not correct doctrine or right behavior or the right opinions, but will teach us to “fish for people,” to catch them, to share in his work of drawing in all people to God.