November 15 — "A Blind Man Schools the Pharisees"

Today's Reading: John 9:24-41

The man who had been blind now saw more clearly than the religious influencers ever would. No seminary degree. No theological footnotes. Just raw, Spirit-lit, personal experience clarity. He didn’t argue from the Torah. He argued from his personal transformation. “I was blind. Now I see.” You can’t fake that. It was a stunning statement of spiritual logic from someone who’d spent his life in darkness—proof that faith can see farther than intellect.

He had already been cast out. This means he was excommunicated — formally expelled from the synagogue community. Rejected by the religious elite. Disqualified from polite spiritual society. But that rejection became his liberation. He no longer needed their approval. He had seen the face of Jesus. And once you’ve seen Him, you can’t unsee Him. You can’t pretend He’s ordinary. You can’t go back to spiritual blindness just to fit in.

John 9:33 isn’t just a defense of Jesus—it’s a declaration of war against spiritual stagnation. It’s the testimony of someone who’s been flooded by grace and rebuilt by truth. It’s the voice of someone who knows that religion without revelation is just noise—busy, but lifeless.. And it’s a warning to every system that tries to contain the uncontrollable mercy and power of God.

The man didn’t say, “Jesus is from God because He fits our expectations.” He said, “He’s from God because He did what no one else could.” That’s the Gospel. Not a checklist of doctrinal boxes, but a collision with the impossible, the unexpected, the remarkable. Healing where there was only hurt. Light where there was only darkness. Sight where there was only shame.

So here’s the question: What has Jesus done in you that no one else could? What part of your story screams, “This could not have happened unless Jesus showed up”? That’s your testimony. That’s your John 9:33. And it’s more powerful than any argument, because it’s alive. So go and live it loud. Let your healed eyes become a megaphone. Let your story interrupt the silence. Let your life preach what your lips can’t explain. You don’t need a pulpit—just a past. You don’t need credentials—just a collision with Christ. Go and be the proof that mercy moves, that grace disrupts, that Jesus still touches the untouchable.

May you walk today with the boldness of the healed. May you speak truth not from theory, but from encounter. May your life be a living contradiction to every lie that says God is distant, disinterested, or done. And may your eyes—once blind—never forget the face of the One who touched you.