15 March 2026, John 9: 1 – 25 “Siloam-ing”

Good morning, church family. I hope you’ve all had a peaceful week in God.

To be honest, I’ve had a heavy heart this past week, and it’s actually because of last Sunday’s sermon. While I was sharing the story about Dana and her family’s singing and the gift of music, I realized, quite painfully, how a single, careless word of mine could truly hurt someone. I see now that I was acting out of line.

Someone said to me last Thursday, “Do Young is still alive!” So, thanks to God’s amazing grace, I’m still standing here today. Now, if you’re sitting there not quite sure whether to laugh at that joke, you must have missed last week’s service!

But you know, I was so moved by what I saw after the service. I saw so many of you coming up to Dana—holding her hand, giving her a hug, and just genuinely caring for her. Witnessing that, I thought to myself, 'Our church is truly wonderful at looking after one another.'  

Let me ask you: Who do you think gives the greatest comfort to Dana? Is it the person with the perfect voice? The one who sings so well?

Of course, their encouragement is a blessing. However, the greatest and most perfect comfort comes, perhaps, from someone who is in the exact same shoes as Dana

When someone who also struggles to find their voice says, 'I am with you Dana', Is there any comfort greater than this? Could there be any empathy more perfect than this?

It touched me deeply, and I want to say a sincere thank you to all of you for that.

Despite that, something has been stinging my heart all week. This 'lack of empathy' in me ….led to some serious soul-searching. And then, I suddenly remembered something my grandmother used to say back when I was a kid.

She’d say, 'A master with a full stomach has no idea what it feels like for the servants to be hungry.' You see where she was going with that? Have you ever heard this saying before? In my case, it’s like this: 'If you’re blessed with the gift of song, you’ll never truly understand how it feels for someone who simply can’t sing.'

There’s a similar saying in English: 'A full man does not understand the hungry man.' The point is, when we are 'full' in some way, it’s incredibly hard to truly feel what it's like to be starving.

Think about where that saying comes from. It goes back to the old stories about kings and their people. Imagine a king enjoying a huge feast inside a warm palace. Outside the palace,, a poor farmer is standing in a freezing field, hungry and exhausted. For the king, that kind of suffering feels very far away. Why? Because he has never actually felt hunger himself. He may understand the idea of hunger in his mind, but he doesn't know it in his body, in his heart. It’s head knowledge, not lived experience.

So if that hungry farmer came to the king and said, “Your Majesty, I’m starving,” the king might casually reply, “Oh… really? Why don’t you just order something on Uber Eats?”

Of course, that sounds ridiculous. But that is often how it works.

When we have never experienced something ourselves, it is very hard to truly understand the pain of someone who has. If I’m sitting comfortably in front of a heater or an air conditioner, the struggle of someone shivering in the cold or sweating in the heat can feel almost unreal.

If I sleep every night on a soft mattress, it’s difficult for me to fully understand the reality of someone trying to sleep on a hard, cold floor.

And as we sit here in peace, the fear of war is almost impossible to imagine. Yes, we can try to imagine it, but our comfort and convenience have a way of numbing us… make us blind.

That distance between knowing about something and actually experiencing it…is the difference between information and compassion.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with having talent, or being healthy, or enjoying the freedom and blessings we have. But... if we get too comfortable in those blessings and lose our ability to empathize, we might end up becoming "spiritually  ."We might lose the ability to see the real pain of the situation standing right in front of us...

We see this exact same thing in John chapter 9. Jesus and His disciples come across a man who has been blind from birth. But notice what happens: as soon as the disciples see him, a conversation begins among them; they start… a theological debate.

They talk about him as if he isn’t even a person, just an interesting theme for discussion. Intellectual question: 'Why is this man’s life so miserable?

In their minds, everything had to have a reason—a cause and an effect. So they tried to dig up…the roots of his tragedy…but nobody was looking at the life of the man who had never seen the light in his entire life. Their focus wasn't on compassion; it was on finding someone to blame.

So they asked Jesus, 'Rabbi, who sinned? This man or his parents? Why was he born blind?'

The truly heartbreaking part is this: the blind man was standing right there. He could hear the whole conversation. Instead of hearing words of kindness... instead of hearing someone say, 'How can we help him?' he heard people debating his life like he was just a case study. 'Why did this happen to him?''Whose fault is it?'

Can you imagine how he must have felt?" He must have been crying out in his heart, 'I didn't even have the chance to sin!

Everyone around him was a 'seeing' person. I am sure they had been able to see from the day they were born. To them, enjoying the light, the colours, and the beautiful scenery was as natural as breathing. It was just a given. And that’s why they couldn't truly feel his darkness. They didn't see a brother in pain; they saw a puzzle to be solved.

But Jesus gave a completely different answer. He tells them: 'You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame, but that’s not what this is about. Instead, look at what God is about to do.'

Then, he might say, “I will show you”. Jesus does something unusual. He spits on the ground, makes some mud, rubs it on the man’s eyes, and tells him to go wash in the Pool of Siloam.

And we know what happened… The man obeyed, he washed, and his sight was restored. Jesus didn't get stuck in their 'Option A or Option B' trap. He created a 'Third Way'…the way of life.

But we have to ask: Why all the mud and the long walk? Why Siloam?

Verse 7 gives us a huge clue. It says: 'Siloam means Sent.' We usually think it’s called Siloam because the blind man was 'sent' there. But the real 'Sent One' in this story, the true Siloam, is actually Jesus himself. Siloam isn't just a place; it’s a person. It’s Jesus’ nickname.

I absolutely love this part. The blind man walked toward a place called Siloam, but what he actually found at the end of that walk wasn't just a pool of cold water—he found Jesus, the true Siloam, the 'Sent One' from God.

Think about this: When the world ignores our pain, the Father sends His Son right into the middle of our suffering to be one with us. The world is focused only on with asking 'why' our lives are so broken, but the Father doesn't give you a lecture… He gives us Siloam. He sends His Son to empathize with our tears, to understand our reality, and to heal us from the inside out…..

This, I believe, is the essence of our story today. In our moments of blindness and numbness, He gives us His presence. He gives us Siloam. And that is the greatest hope we could ever hold.

And even more importantly, He calls us to be 'Siloam' for one another today. He is calling us to be the 'Sent Ones.' We ought to open our eyes to the pain we once ignored, and we ought to empty ourselves of our own comfort. Just as my grandmother said, we cannot feel the hunger of others while we are too full of ourselves.

Brothers and sisters,

Now I want to ask you a bit of a strange question. Do you think Jesus is feeling 'full' right now? Or... do you reckon? He might actually be hungry? If Jesus appeared before you right now, what would He look like? Would He be a comfortable King sitting on a throne? Is He full, or is He hungry?

I’ve been thinking about this, and I think Jesus is hungry. I think He has no time to be 'full.' Why? Because He chose empathize with us. He gave up His comfort and His glory so He could feel exactly what we feel. He’s too busy looking at our pain, listening to our tears, and touching our wounds to ever be 'full.'

He is constantly being 'sent.' He is literally… 'Siloam-ing'—ING—right now into the dark places of our lives. He didn't just send Jesus once two thousand years ago; He is still sending His love, His grace, and His presence into your situation at this very moment. God is forever a 'Sending Father,' and Jesus is forever 'Siloam-ing' toward us.

Look at the disciples again. They were 'spiritually full. They were so comfortable in their own sight… that they couldn't even see the man in front of them. But Jesus? He was different. He didn't stand at a distance; He stepped into the mud. He felt the man's hunger and his darkness as if… it were His own.

It wasn't the water in the pool that had the power; it was the love of the One who understood him best.

Siloam! Being sent! Siloam-ING!

That journey of being 'sent' led Him all the way to the Cross—the hungriest, thirstiest place in the world.

So, church family, here is my challenge for us this week.

Let’s remember the 'hunger' of Jesus. Lent is the season for stepping down from our 'full' seats.

The world is full of people asking, 'Who is to blame?' But Jesus asks a different question: 'Who will show compassion... just as I have been sent to you? ' When we do that, we are living as 'Sent Ones'... we are 'Siloam-ing' in this world. Then we will be blessed to become great comforters and healers.

Amen.