"Precious
Angel" is a song written by Bob Dylan that first appeared on his 1979
album Slow Train Coming. It was also released as a single in the
Netherlands. It was covered by World Wide Message Tribe on the 1998
album Heatseeker. "Precious Angel'" is a love song. At
a concert in Seattle on January 14, 1980, Dylan claimed that the song
is addressed to the woman who brought him to Christianity. This is
consistent with the lyrics, particularly in the final verse where Dylan
refers to his delivering angel as the torch that led him to the greater
light of Jesus. The chorus might be addressed to either the precious
angel or to Jesus: Shine your light, shine your light on me "Ya know I
couldn't make it by myself I'm a little too blind to see"
Precious angel, under the sun
How was I to know you'd be the one
To show me I was blinded, to show me I was gone
How weak was the foundation I was standing upon ?
Now there's spiritual warfare and flesh and blood breaking down
Ya either got faith or ya got unbelief and there ain't neutral ground
The enemy is subtle, how be it we are so deceived
When the truth's in our hearts and we still don't believe ?
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Ya know I just couldn't make it by myself
I'm a little too blind to see.
My so called friends have fallen under a spell
They look me squarely in the eye and they say, "Well all is well'"
Can they imagine the darkness that will fall from on high
When men will beg God to kill them and they won't be able to die.
Sister, lemme tell you about a vision that I saw
You were drawing water for your husband, you were suffering under the law
You were telling him about Buddha, you were telling him about Mohammed in the same breath
You never mentioned one time the Man who came and died a criminal's death.
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Ya know I just couldn't make it by myself
I'm a little too blind to see.
Precious angel, you believe me when I say
What God has given to us no man can take away
We are covered in blood girl, you know our forefathers were slaves
Let us hope they've found mercy in their bone-filled graves.
You're the queen of my flesh, girl, you're my woman, you're my delight
You're the lamb of my soul, girl, and you touch up the night
But there's violence in the eyes, girl, so let us not be enticed
On the way out of Egypt, through Ethiopia, to the judgement hall of Christ.
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Shine you light, shine your light on me
Ya know I just couldn't make it by myself
I'm a little too blind to see.
The lyrics of "Precious Angel" contain many biblical references. The theme of the song seems to be taken from 2 Corinthians 4:4 to 4:6, in which the light of Christ is contrasted with the darkness faced by those deluded by the devil. The line "Now there's spiritual warfare, flesh and blood breaking down" appears to be a reflection of another verse from 2 Corinthians (10:3) which states "For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh." The line in the chorus about blindness appears to be influenced by a passage from the Gospel of John in which the blind man healed by Jesus proclaims that "Whereas I was blind, now I can see." It is to this passage in John's Gospel chapter 9 that we turn to this morning in our devotions.
The
disciples see the blind beggar as an
occasion for discussing a theological problem. If affliction is caused
by sin—as was widely believed at the time—whose sin is it? They don’t
see the man himself. They don’t see his suffering and his isolation. All
of us have known the feeling of being in misery, but what is even worse
is to be alone
in misery, to have no one notice you, to have no one care. Jesus
notices. Jesus cares. Jesus sees. He sees the blind man as no one else
does, even though the man has not done anything to attract his
attention. He silences his disciples with a sharp rebuke: Stop worrying
about why he was born blind! That’s completely irrelevant! You are about
to see the power of God at work! The Lord bends down and takes earth, and
makes clay, and puts it on the man’s eyes. Some of the old commentators
say that we see here the Creator himself, the One “by whom all things were made, stooping again to the dust from which Adam was created, performing now an act of new creation. Jesus tells the man to go and wash his eyes
in the pool of Siloam. This is a strange command, but the man obeys;
“he went, and washed and came back seeing.” Now you might think that this is the climax
of the story. But it’s only just beginning. The healing takes only two
verses out of a forty-four-verse chapter. The heart of the story lies
ahead.
When the blind man comes back from the pool, he discovers that
people behave strangely toward him. Instead of rejoicing, they seem
offended. They seem almost hostile. Jesus’ deeds always attracted
hostility from some onlookers. Now at this point the blind man knows
nothing whatever about Jesus. He doesn’t even know that he has a
reputation for healing. So when people question him suspiciously, all he
can say is, “A man called Jesus put clay on my eyes.” At this
interesting juncture the blind man is hauled off to be interrogated by
the Pharisees, and the real drama begins. Now it’s very important to know something
about the Pharisees. We’re used to thinking of them simply as arrogant
hypocrites, but that’s a mistake. The Pharisees were the truly respected
men of their community. Imagine assembling a few top professors from the university world and a couple of judges maybe, and
definitely some church leaders. The Pharisees were the most respected
men in the Judaism of Jesus’ time. They were scholarly, able, godly, and
committed. So when the illiterate blind beggar is
suddenly thrust before this learned council, it’s an intimidating
situation, to say the least. The interrogation begins in a reasonably
neutral fashion with the Pharisees saying, “How did you get your sight?”
But as soon as the blind man gives his straightforward testimony—“he
put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see”—a vehement dispute
arose among the Pharisees. Some said, “This man Jesus cannot be from
God,” and others said, “If he is not from God, then how can he do such
wonderful signs?”
The blind man, observing this dispute among
the powerful men, must have felt himself being drawn into a controversy
of dangerous proportions. How easy it would have been for him to say,
“Look, I don’t know anything about this. I never saw this man Jesus
before in my life and I don’t expect to see him again. I don’t want any
trouble.” But he does not say that. When the Pharisees turn to him again
and ask him, “What do you say about this man?” the blind man steps up the pace and declares, “He is a prophet.” Now to say that Jesus was a prophet was to
make a very strong claim. There hadn’t been very many true prophets. In
view of the fact that the only thing the blind man really knows about
Jesus is his name, this is a remarkable affirmation. The Pharisees’ reaction to all this is one
of increasing opposition. They want to discredit the man’s witness. They
call in his parents and say, “Come, now, this isn’t your son who was
born blind, is it?” The man’s parents make a curious response.
First they blow the Pharisees’ cover by saying “This is our son all
right, and he was born blind,” but then they wimp out: “We don’t know
how he got his sight. He can speak for himself; ask him.” The evangelist
explains this evasiveness by telling us that the parents were afraid of
being thrown out of the synagogue. What a familiar story! Fear of
ostracism, fear of the loss of status, fear of offending community
standards. This is a measure of how dangerous Jesus can be.
In the meantime the Pharisees are faced
once more with the irritating fact of the man’s cure. Jesus seems to be
making more and more trouble for them, operating out of bounds,
encroaching on their territory. Who does this man think he is? They
summon the blind man back again, and this time they make no show of
courtesy. They are no longer divided; those who seemed willing to
entertain the idea that Jesus might be a man of God have now gone over
to the other side. Imagine the man who cleans the floors of the office
building being called up for questioning before the board of the
corporation. If the blind man’s situation was uncomfortable before, it
is downright untenable now. The chairman of the board of the Pharisees
leans forward. We have come to a conclusion, he says. “You should give God the glory for what has happened to you. We know that this man (Jesus) is a sinner.” This is the point of no return for the
blind man. We need to try to understand how unequal this contest is. The
Pharisees are the God experts. If they have made a pronouncement, it
must be the real thing. The blind man has no reason whatever to think
that these godly men, these pillars of the faith, might be wrong. All he
has is a tiny fragment of knowledge about Jesus. In the face of utter
condemnation he doggedly clings to what he knows: “Whether he is a
sinner or not, I do not know; one thing I know: I was blind, and now I
see.”
The power and truth of this statement is
not lost on the Pharisees. They back away from it, shifting their
tactics, seeking distractions, changing the subject, evading the true
issue of Jesus’ identity. “What did he do to you?” they demand to know.
“How did he open your eyes?” Now listen to the blind man’s reply.
Something—or some One—is making him strong. With sudden audacity and
resourcefulness he snaps back at his inquisitors: “I’ve already told
you! Weren’t you listening? Why do you want to hear it all over again?”
and then suddenly—we can imagine him tilting his head impudently—he says
“Do you want to become his disciples too?” At this, they turned on him furiously.
“You’re the one who is his disciple! We are disciples of Moses. We know
that God spoke to Moses, but as for this man [Jesus], we don’t even know
where he comes from.” This is the last word in pharisaical clout.
Choosing blindness the learned men of the faith reach back into the arsenal of the
tradition and upon the head of this apparently defenseless beggar they
hurl the thunder and lightning and fire and smoke of Mount Sinai itself.
But it is not the Pharisees who control the
fires of the Spirit of God. The blind man is the one who is becoming an
inspired witness. “What an extraordinary thing!” he exclaims! “You are
the leaders of our faith, yet you can’t figure out where this man comes
from. No one has opened the eyes of a man born blind since the world
began. If this man Jesus were not from God, he could do nothing.” And with that, the Pharisees rise up and
throw him out of the temple, out of the company of decent people, out of
the circle of the godly, out of the dwelling place of mercy and
forgiveness and sanctuary. But now, to him who is thrown out of the
temple comes the Lord of the Temple. Upon him who has been cast into
outer darkness comes the Light of the World. Jesus, “hearing that they
had thrown him out,” went forth and looked for him, combed the streets
for him, and found him. Finding him, the one who has been sentenced to
spiritual death, Jesus of Nazareth comes intimately, personally close
and gently says to him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” (“Son of
Man” meant “the Messiah who is to come”) and the formerly blind man who
was so stubborn and assertive before the Pharisees instantly and humbly
yields himself to the leading of Jesus, saying, “Who is he, sir? Tell
me, that I may believe in him.” “You have seen him,” said Jesus.
“Indeed, it is he who is speaking to you now.” “Lord, I believe,” said
the man, and he bowed down and worshipped him.
It is for this purpose that the blind man
was given his sight—that he should believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. The
story is not about physical blindness and physical sight. It’s about
spiritual blindness and spiritual sight. John’s Gospel was written with a
particular purpose, and if we know what that is, we will understand
this story as we are meant to understand it. At the end of the 20th
chapter, the evangelist states his purpose: “Now Jesus did many other
signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this
book; but these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus
is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have
life in his name.” That’s the purpose of everything John writes in his
Gospel and it’s the purpose of this sermon. The story of the man born blind is the
story of a struggle between the Pharisees and a blind beggar, but it’s
also the story of each of us. Each of us is part Pharisee. The Pharisee
is sure of his place in society. He is so certain of his faith and his
standing in the community that he has no room for an encounter with this
disconcerting man, Jesus of Nazareth. The Pharisee has shut the door on
the Lord of life. We can so easily be like that. Our devotion to our
chosen way of being religious blinds us to the very presence of God in
the person and work of his Son. You see, the blind man represents all of
us in our fallen humanity, imprisoned in our own small selves, without
hope of being freed from the oncoming darkness, unable to see ourselves
as God sees us. This very much the feeling in Dylan's song "Precious Angel"
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