The Light by Which We See

Deceased: LaVerle Martin

Widow: Richard Martin

Daughter: Larissa Fors

Granddaughter: Mackenzie Kikel

keep sharing stories.

There is a story in John 9 of a man who was born blind. As Jesus walked by, he saw him, and the disciples asked

John 9:2 ESV

2 And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

The question is a leading question.

It assumes there are only two possible answers for this man’s misfortune:

Either his parents sinned, and now he’s living with the consequence, or

Somehow, even before he was born, before he could even make a decision, he somehow sinned and is still being punished for it.

Maybe you’ve felt something like that—going through pain you didn’t choose and wondering, “Why is this happening? Did I do something wrong?”

But this way of seeing the situation is hopeless.

It assumes something unfair about God—that He is petty and willing to punish people for things beyond their control. It imagines God’s justice is about retribution, not restoration.

And Jesus refuses to accept the frame.

John 9:3 Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him… .5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”  

Then Jesus spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, put it on the man’s eyes, and told him to wash in the pool of Siloam. He went, he washed, and he came back seeing.

The rest of the chapter unfolds like a courtroom drama—interrogations, accusations, suspicion, and fear from religious leaders, neighbors, even his parents. And eventually, the man says:

John 9:25 ESV

25 He answered, “Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

All I know is this: once I could not see, I could not understand. I was hopeless. My body wasn’t what I wanted it to be. I was begging to survive. My relationships were strained. My faith in God was distant. But then I met Jesus. And now I see my whole life, my whole experience, through him. It doesn’t make the past less painful, but it does redeem it for a greater purpose.”

Jesus said, “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

And truly, Jesus brought light. Not just light to his eye but to his perspective. By Jesus’ healing him, he no longer saw the tragedy of his life through the narrow view of his lived experience. But through the broader lens of the supernatural.

C.S. Lewis

Like this man, many of us only see our story from ground level—from the hospital room, from the graveside, from the quiet moments where grief feels heavier than hope. But Jesus invites us to see our story from another angle—from the light.

This is how C. S. Lewis described it in his post–World War II sermon Is Theology Poetry?,

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

He was responding to the criticism that Christianity is just “poetry” or a nice story. Lewis responded by saying that just because Christianity soundspoetic doesn’t make it untrue. In fact, poetry can often reveal more truth than plain facts. Christianity isn’t against reason or science; rather, it is the light by which all other truths can be seen.

Lewis compares believing in God to waking up from a dream.

When you’re dreaming, everything feels real—until you wake up. Once you’re awake, you can explain the dream. Once awake, the real world can explain the dream: bad dreams come from bad meals, dragons come from the stories you’ve read. The real world can explain the dream world, but the dream world can’t explain the real one.

That’s how you know you’re awake—the bigger, truer world can hold and make sense of the smaller, limited one.

Lewis says that it is the same with faith.

Christianity is like that waking world. It’s big enough to hold science, beauty, suffering, evil, meaning, love, and even death..

So when he says, “I believe in Christianity… because by it I see everything else,” he means that Christ doesn’t just give us something else to believe—he gives us a way to see. A way to make sense of disappointment, heartbreak, failure, and death. It helps us make sense of things that otherwise feel senseless.

When you’re in the middle of suffering, it can feel like a dream you can’t escape—confusing, heavy, hopeless. But faith is like waking up. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it places it inside a bigger story—one where God is still present, still good, still working.

Without faith, death appears to be the end. But in the light of the risen Christ, we see that death isn’t the end at all. It’s something that now fits inside a larger reality—a reality where love outlasts the grave, where loss is not permanent, and where resurrection is not a wish but a promise.

The apostle Paul says 1 Co 15:51–52.

1 Corinthians 15:51–52 ESV

51 Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.

From the perspective of our pain, nothing makes sense. But from the perspective of our faith pain is no longer the whole story.

Conclusion

Just as the morning light helps us see the world clearly, faith in Jesus helps us see death clearly: not as final, but as a sleep; not as darkness, but as a shadow that will one day vanish in the light of God’s presence.

Jesus says, “I am the light of the world.” And because of him, we can say with Lewis, “By him we see everything else,” and with the blind man, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

Your heart hurts right now. And God in his infinite compassion sees it. And today he wants you to know something.

I love you. I’m watching over you. And your healing is in my hands if you will let me. Have faith and let a little light in.