They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”
--John 9:12
One can hardly blame this man for his ignorant response to the crowd. After all, he just received his sight for the first time mere moments ago and would not have recognized Jesus even if he had seen him. He was understandably overwhelmed by the moment. There was a lot to take in. At times, “I do not know” is the most faithful response one can utter.
It’s what my wife said to our children last night when they asked “so what are we going to do tomorrow?” It’s what others will say this week when asked “what are we going to eat?” It’s what a family of eleven says when faced with the painful dilemma of how to plan a funeral for ten people or less. It’s what the medical community around the world will say if the demand for supplies and services should exceed the current supply. What’s next? Not having the answers to every situation may not be acceptable to some of us. In light of these hardships, however, I believe it is especially important to offer grace for ourselves and others. I am relieved by the assurance that “I do not know” is still an acceptable response in a world governed by God.
In his book, Quietly Courageous, Gil Rendle uses the example of the early explorers to describe what he calls the ‘healthy admission of ignorance.’ The voyage of Columbus in 1492 and Magellan’s first circumnavigation of the globe in 1522 proved to be formative shifts in thinking because they provided the observation and mathematics needed to change the way people thought about the world in which they lived.
Most interestingly, it was shortly thereafter, for the first time ever that mapmakers began to draw maps with intentionally empty spaces. It was the first admission that they did not really know what was out there. “Prior to this time” says Rendle, “maps simply left unfamiliar areas out or filled them in with imaginary monsters.”
Have you ever done that? I certainly have. How often do we take the ‘unknown’ in our days and either ignore it all together or allow the fear of our imagination to fill it in with the worst case scenario. How hard it is it to just leave it blank for now and wait for further revelation?
Where is Jesus in this? That was the question of the crowd in John’s gospel, and today.
I’m taking my cues from this man who understood his own history of blindness. Well, to be honest, I do not know for sure. I’m still learning to see, mind you, but if recent experience is any indicator, I suspect he’s at Thomas Hospital today. I expect that he’ll be with us in our first virtual church staff meeting today, organizing us to meet the needs of His restless and hungry children. I imagine he’ll be closer that six feet away from you, too. I do not know how he does it, but I thank God that he does.
Grant us grace, O God. Might we resist the temptation to fill in today’s map with our own anxiety. Save us, Jesus, from the perpetual desire for absolute certainty. Help us, with fresh eyes, to leave room for your creativity. We wait for the revealing of your glory. Amen.
Whatever It Takes,
Darren
Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash
