Jesus learns of all this carrying on, and he seeks out the man he gave sight. Note this reversal: Jesus seeking … Jesus pursuing … Jesus making appeal, rather than the other way around.
This simple act of invitation is revolutionary to say this to another person, to stay with me. There is space for you here. Sit at my table, be part of our lives. This is not small. That is straight up resistance to what is out there. It is healing. That is the beginning of resurrection. So they invite Jesus in and Jesus stays, and as this stranger to them sits at the table, something happens.
In the Gospel of John, the Church doesn’t have to wait for the Spirit, as if it were the third act in an extended drama. Instead, the Church shares in the life of the risen Jesus from the very first day.
We have made delight dangerous and insulting, fit only for the foolish and the oblivious, the vulgar and the entitled. In these days, we fear joy more than death … yet, believe: there is only one Easter – One Easter! – and it is for you as much as it has been for anyone: for Nellie as much for Laura, for Judas as much as John … And if that can’t be true? Well, then none of it is.
Tonight, we become part of this story. This is not a story we remember. This is a story we enter. And so, we stand in it. We come alongside our ancestors, to join the communion of saints, to take our place in the waters of our deliverance. This is the night…
Trinity Church in the City of Boston Good Friday April 3, 2026 Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9 John 18:1-19:42 Psalm 22 Almighty
Asking neither “How did it happen,” nor “What do the details represent,” but what does it mean for us who claim membership in a community of the risen Jesus to tell a story like that, during these days and in a place like this?
The true miracle takes place, not when the man first sees the world, but when he first recognizes his Savior. This is why we need the whole story…In that moment, the man who has been cast out of every community he has known discovers where his true belonging lies.
Jesus invites us to find grace in the magic of water flowing out of rock, to see in its steady stream God’s provision, God’s abundance, God’s hope, all enduring no matter the madness pressing in on us.
The devil isn’t pressuring Jesus to doubt his identity as the Son of God. He’s asking him to secure it. To prove it. To seize it. To claim it on his own terms. And Jesus refuses.
