We had been eagerly anticipating the birth. We were young and happy, and all was well in our world. He arrived, a baby boy – and what joy we felt. We experienced the usual delight of parents, along with the normal topsy-turvy lifestyle a new-born always brings. Having a baby is always a life-changing experience!

But my joy was short-lived, and clouds of doubt marred my life. I asked my husband to observe our baby closely. He did not believe me at first when I voiced my suspicions. Soon it was obvious to him as well, and then it was very clear, beyond any doubt. Our baby was blind. He could not see at all. He did not smile in recognition of our faces. He did not blink when our hands moved in front of his sweet face.

We were both devastated. Of course, we still loved him. Of course, we would bring him up the best we could. But life would not be easy. He would never learn to read and write, and he would never develop the skills of his tradesman father. He would probably never marry – how could he support a family?

Along the way many of our friends dropped off. At first, they seemed at a loss for words, then there was some awkwardness, and there seemed to be also an air of judgment. We felt as though they thought we must have done something wrong. There’s always that whispered suggestion, that we were responsible in some way, and God was punishing us.

We knew we were not perfect, but we’d always tried to follow and worship God. We did not think God would use a blind baby to punish us, but it was a belief commonly held in our culture. In any case, life became much harder.

We were not at all well off, and our now adult son wanted to contribute to the household. So sometimes he went out in public, and people would be kind and understanding and give him a few coins. It did help us to manage, and they felt quite good about themselves, being generous to the “poor blind guy”.

Then came the day he returned home early, much earlier than usual. In fact, he rushed home, no stick to help him feel his way, nothing. And he was very excited. We heard him approach, shouting, “Mum! Dad! Look! Come and look at me!”

We rushed out to see what he was so happy about. “I can see you, Mum! Dad, I can see you too!”

I started to shake. “What! Come here, my dear son!” I embraced him. “How did this happen?” Tears filled his eyes as he saw us for the first time.

“Someone put mud on my eyes, and then told me to go and wash them in the stream!” I did, and as soon as I’d finished bathing my eyes, I could see! It’s truly a miracle!”

The neighbours living close by heard all the commotion. They rushed out to see what had happened. He told them the same thing. “This is a real miracle!” many of them exclaimed.

“Of course it isn’t!” said others, turning towards us. “You’ve been tricked. He’s just someone who looks like your son, so stop trying to deceive us!” They said the same to our son. “Stop now. You aren’t the same guy who was begging!”

“Wrong!” exclaimed our son. “It is me! I was born blind, and now for the first time in my life, I can see!” I was surprised at how strong and forthright he was. He knew and we knew that it was him.

“Okay, where is the man now who healed you?”

“I don’t know …” replied our son.

It was all very confusing. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

“Let’s take you to the religious leaders then! If it really is a miracle, they’ll surely know!”

Perhaps they were hoping that the religious leaders would be pleased that a miracle had happened in our area. They were not. They asked for an explanation. Our son told them the same story as he had told us. They were, in fact, not only not pleased – they were angry!

“You say the man who healed you mixed saliva with dirt, made mud, and put it on your eye sockets! Then told you to wash? A likely story! Who is this man?” Their attitude was scornful.

“He must be a prophet ….”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Today is a Sabbath. No-one from God would do such a thing on a holy day of rest. He’s very obviously doing the wrong thing, for not observing any religious duties!”

Arguments raged backwards and forwards.

“A bad person could not perform such a miracle!”

“A prophet would not disobey laws about the Sabbath!”

Finally, our son was told to bring these religious leaders home to meet us. They spoke quite arrogantly to us, and demanded to know if he was indeed our son.

I started to shake with very real fear. These were important community leaders. But we could only tell the truth as we knew it.

“Yes, he is definitely our son, and yes, he was born blind.”

“So, what happened? How can he see now, if you are in fact telling us the truth?”

“We don’t know. But he is a fully grown adult. Ask him! He’ll tell you!”

My husband and I were now very alarmed. If we said the man who’d healed our son was from God, we would definitely be put out of the community of God’s people. Simply because these religious leaders would not accept that a godly person would heal on the special holy day. They had set up all sorts of rules and regulations to be obeyed to the last detail. Far beyond what God had ever wanted.

This person who healed was obviously not obeying their rules. He would be in big trouble. If we said that he was a prophet, we'd be in big trouble too, and we would no longer be allowed to worship. We would lose our few remaining friends. We would have nothing. We thought it best to tell them to get the truth from our son. We were worried about offending them, and yet … we were amazed at the day’s events!

Another interview with our son.

“Give glory to God!” the religious leaders told him, angrily. “We know that the man who healed you is a bad person, a troublemaker. He’s not from God at all!”

“Whether he is a bad person or not, I have no idea. All I know is that I used to be blind, but now I have my vision back. I can see!”

They asked him again about the process.

This time our son started to fire up. “I’ve already told you, and you wouldn’t listen. Why do you want to hear me repeat it all over again? Perhaps you want to be his followers as well?”

They were enraged, and insulted him in the worst possible ways. “You’re a follower of this strange unknown man. We are followers of our own leader, who set up our traditional religion!! We know God spoke to him! We are God’s chosen people. As for that guy, huh, we don’t even know where he came from!”

Our son became rather sarcastic. He’d had enough of their attitude.

“Now that is remarkable! You don’t even know where he comes from, yet he was able to do a miracle in my life, by giving me sight! We all know that God doesn’t listen to bad people – He listens to godly people who do His will. And this has happened! No-one has ever heard of such a thing happening before, someone born blind being able to see! If he wasn’t from God, he wouldn’t have been able to do it!”

Furious almost beyond words, they shouted at him. “How dare you lecture us? You’ve been steeped in sin since you were born!” They put into words all those innuendos we’d been aware of since his birth. Being blind was a punishment from God. For them that was the simple answer. No reasoning. No compassion. No care.

And of course, they just threw our son out.

That wasn’t the end. We knew that our son's sight was a gift from God, not a punishment!

The man who’d healed him found him again, later on. He explained a few things. Our son realised just who the man is. The Saviour, sent by God. He chose to believe in him. So did we. Yes, it does cost to be a follower of the one who turned the world upside down. Going against the establishment and the modern culture costs. Innuendo, ridicule, insults, and threats. It’s all par for the course.

But we have made our choice, and we are no longer afraid of what “they” may say or do.