For the sick who have been blamed

“Who sinned, this man or his parents?” You have asked that question in the dark, turning your suffering over like a coin to find the stamp of your own fault. The blame ledger feels like a refuge: if you can name the cause, you can manage the shame. But the ledger is a false refuge. It keeps you arraigned before a judge who never closes the case.

Jesus closes it. He does not weigh your past or your parents' past. He says neither sinned, and he moves toward the man's eyes. The works of God are not a reward for good behavior; they are a revelation in the very place blame has held you. Christ is the light of the world, and the light does not interrogate the dark—it enters it. On the cross, he took the blame you keep rehearsing and answered it with his own body.

The night is coming, but you are in the day of his working. The question of blame dies when the light of the world enters the dark. Will you let his works be revealed in what you cannot explain?