Trusting God's Masterpiece When You Can't See

It was not that this man sinned or his parents, but that the works of God may be displayed in him. In other words, you’re asking the wrong question. The question is not, “Who caused this?” The real question is, “What is God doing through this?” Honestly, many times we cannot see what God is doing. Job wanted answers from God, but when God finally speaks, he doesn’t hand Job the explanation he’s demanding—God asks questions. “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” What looks confusing to us is never confusing to God.

Remember, you may only see a few strokes on the canvas, but God sees the whole masterpiece in your life. Life gets confusing—illness, loss, struggle—and from up close it can look messy and unfinished. But the One writing your story sees the whole picture. The same Jesus who opened the eyes of the blind—because we were once blind and now we see—is the same One who died on the cross for you and rose for you. Your story has been sealed and primed in Christ for eternity. Even when you can’t see the whole picture, God has everything taken care of for you.

First, trust God’s work when you cannot see the whole picture. The Artist is still painting. Second, ask a better question. Instead of asking, “Why is this happening?” ask, “Lord, how will your work be revealed here?” That’s the question we should ask. Third, reflect the light of Christ to others. Just as Jesus opened the eyes of the blind, the Spirit now sends the church to bring hope and faith to those still walking in darkness. Everywhere you go—work, groceries, meals—Christ is right there with you, and you are called to reflect his light.

The greatest miracle of this man is not that he received sight, but that he received faith. Because faith is not something you can see. Faith is trusting when you don’t see. Sometimes we wonder and we question; we want the whole picture right now. But the blind man doesn’t go hunting for Jesus—Jesus comes to him and does the unthinkable, what only God can do. And what once looked like meaningless suffering became the very place where God revealed his work. By the end, the man can say it: “Lord, I believe.”

From up close, you might think the painting is messy and unfinished—colors don’t match, lines feel out of place. If you only see that moment, you may think nothing good is happening. But the artist sees something different: the whole picture that is still coming together. That’s the same thing with faith. Up close, sometimes we don’t know what’s going on. But when you look back, you see the whole picture. And sometimes it takes a lifetime to see it—because God is working on a masterpiece while we’re staring at brushstrokes.

What looked like abandonment—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—was actually redemption. At the cross, God was painting the greatest picture of all time. People assumed it was over, that Jesus was being punished and defeated, but they were wrong. In that very moment God was doing the greatest work in history: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.” What looked like a few strokes of paint on a canvas was actually salvation. And three days later Christ rose, proving the story was never finished.

One of the things I used to do a lot was construction, and I love it. But when someone brings cheap paint and says, “Just paint the room,” it might look pretty at first—until you peel one little spot and the whole thing comes off like a shell. People forget primer. You need something that lets the new paint stick and last. That’s what we’re looking at in Job and John 9: trusting God when we cannot see the whole picture. What looks good for a moment won’t last without what holds it underneath—without what God is doing beneath the surface.

Sometimes I can tell who is a Sunday Christian and who is an everyday Christian, because suffering doesn’t wait for Sundays. It shows up during the week—in doctor’s appointments, in bad news, in the moments you didn’t plan for. And we assume suffering must have an explanation. We start asking, “God, what are you doing?” or we start hunting for someone to blame. Job’s friends did that: “Job, you must have done something wrong.” But Jesus tells a different story. Suffering isn’t always punishment; it can be the place where God displays his work.

This week I was talking with someone and I said my sermon was about Job and learning how to lament—how to complain properly. He said, “Complain?” Like we’re not supposed to have faith and complain. But look again: God’s people complain all through Scripture. The problem isn’t bringing your grief to God; the problem is thinking you can explain everything or control the story. Job wanted answers, and when God finally speaks, he doesn’t give Job the neat explanation he wants. He shows Job who is really God—and who is not.

When you ask, “Why is this happening to me?” you can sound like you think you’re the exception, like you’ve done everything right so suffering shouldn’t touch you. I heard a psychologist say that and it hit me: “Why me?” can be a way of saying, “I’ve earned a pain-free life.” Maybe the question isn’t, “Why is this happening to me?” but “Why is it not happening to me?” Then Jesus shows you who he is: the Creator who laid earth’s foundations, the Savior who opens blind eyes, the Lord who enters our suffering, and the risen King who stays with you.

Just as Jesus opened the eyes of the blind, the Spirit is now sending us—his church—to bring hope and faith to those still walking in darkness. This week you will have opportunities: where you eat, where you work, where you buy groceries, where you spend time with friends. Christ is right there with you, and you reflect his light. Don’t hide it. Don’t cover it up. Let it be seen so people can see who God is. That’s why the miracles happen: so God’s power and mercy are revealed, not just in church, but everywhere.

Jesus heals in such a strange, personal way. He makes mud, he spits, he puts it on the man’s eyes, and says, “Go wash.” It’s unexpected, almost offensive, and yet it’s mercy. And suddenly a man who lived his whole life in darkness sees. But the point goes deeper than eyesight. Jesus is not only fixing what’s broken; he’s revealing who he is. He gets in front of the suffering person. He does what only God can do. And what looked like a hopeless life becomes the stage where God’s work is displayed.