When We Step Into Raʿ

The Struggle to See God at Work

4th Sunday in Lent — March 15, 2026

Texts

1 Samuel 16:1-13 ⠂Psalm 23 ⠂Ephesians 5:8-14 ⠂John 9:1-41

Lenten blessings to all.

We are now in the fourth Sunday of Lent, and before we move forward, it helps to remember where we’ve been. As we know, Lent is more than a season of reflection; it’s a journey of watching how God works in our lives in ways we don’t expect.

On the second Sunday of Lent, Nicodemus thought God’s work was impossible — the idea of being born again made no sense to him.

On the third Sunday of Lent, the Samaritan woman discovered unexpected good news when she met Jesus, the Savior.

And today, on this fourth Sunday of Lent, the blind man’s healing is dismissed as a lie.

Three different stories.

Three unexpected reactions.

One truth at the heart of these stories: God is at work — always.

As we continue toward Easter, this truth becomes even more important.

Resurrection means more when we are able to name how God has transformed our lives.

Let’s begin with 1 Samuel 16.

God sends Samuel to anoint a new king. Everyone looks at outward appearance, but God chooses David and says, “I look at the heart.”

Scripture continues:

“The Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.”

But the very next verse sounds troubling:

“The Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord tormented him.”

Let’s pause here for a moment.

The Hebrew word for “evil” is raʿ (רַע)— not moral evil, not a demon, but distress, inner turmoil, disorientation.

And “from the Lord” doesn’t mean God wanted to harm Saul. In Hebrew thought, anything that unfolds within God’s presence can be described that way. Saul’s distress happens in God’s presence, not outside it. God never abandons him.

So the contrast is not:

David gets a good spirit

Saul gets a bad one

The contrast is:

David receives God’s direction and steps into empowerment

Saul resists God’s direction and steps into raʿ

So what is this raʿ that Saul steps into?

Saul loses the kingship not because of one mistake, but because again and again he chooses control over trust, appearance over obedience, and self‑protection over God’s mission.

Saul’s unraveling mirrors the temptations Jesus faced — the very things Jesus teaches us to pray in the Lord’s Prayer: bread, lives, kingdom — the places where trust is tested. Saul loses sight of God’s Spirit because he can no longer trust God or recognize what God is doing.

That is the heart of raʿ:

the unraveling that happens when we step out of alignment with God’s mission.

This is where the story meets us and speaks to the human struggle.

God is at work - always - even when we struggle to believe what we cannot explain.

We cling to what we know.

We protect our certainty.

We fear mystery.

And when that happens:

our faith becomes rigid

our witness becomes fragile

and the next generation wonders why God’s people seem so unsure

We stay busy — feeding, serving, programming — all good things.

But sometimes we become so busy doing God’s work

that we forget to believe God is still working.

We forget to look for, ask for, yearn for the Spirit of God —

the same Spirit who moved from Saul to David.

And that is exactly where today’s readings meet us.

In 1 Samuel 16, we witness what it is like to step into raʿ, as Saul did — not because God leaves him, but because he can no longer see God at work in his life.

Raʿ is inner blindness, the fog that settles in when trust breaks down.

In Psalm 23, we witness what it feels like when God seems hidden, as the psalmist walks through the valley of raʿ — shadow, fear, uncertainty — and yet discovers that God is still present.

The valley is not proof of God’s absence.

It is the place where trust is learned.

In Ephesians 5, we witness the moment when it is time to wake up, as Paul says, “because the days are evil.”

The Greek word "evil" is πονηρός — like raʿ, it means the days are full of pressures and distortions that make it hard to stay awake to God.

So Paul says, “Awake, sleeper… and Christ will shine on you.”

The light is already shining.

Christ is already present.

The question is whether we are awake to it.

In John 9, we witness a truth that sounds like a tall tale, as a man born blind receives sight and tells the simplest truth he knows:

“I was blind, and now I see.”

But the people around him cannot accept it — not because they’re bad, but because the truth doesn’t fit their categories. God’s work feels too strange, too disruptive, too new.

Their disbelief doesn’t change the truth.

But it blinds them to it.

They step into raʿ — inner blindness to God’s work.

In Lent, we are invited to reflect on how God works in our lives in ways we don’t expect.

• Where have we stopped believing that God is still at work?

• Where have we grown cautious, or tired, or afraid while God is still at work?

• Where have we settled for doing instead of trusting in the God who is still at work?

• Where have we closed our eyes to the new thing God is doing?

Because faith is not something we master.

It is something we experience — each day, each moment, each season of our lives.

The blind man didn’t understand how Jesus healed him.

He didn’t have the right words.

He simply knew:

“I was blind, and now I see.”

Sometimes the deepest truths of God are the ones we cannot explain — only live and testify to, like the blind man did.

So let me return to the Good News we began with:

God is at work — always.

In the stories that sound too strange to be true.

In the valleys we fear.

In the questions we carry.

In the places we overlook.

In the people we underestimate.

And yes — God is at work in all of us, always.

And here is the part I promised I would keep reminding you of this Lent:

Jesus has never waited for our 100% faithfulness to save us.

He didn’t wait for Saul to get it right.

He didn’t wait for the Pharisees to understand.

He didn’t wait for the blind man to have perfect theology.

He doesn’t wait for us to be certain, or ready, or brave.

Jesus meets us exactly where we are —

in our questions, in our confusion,

even in our raʿ,

until we open our eyes again.

May God open our eyes this Lent

to see what has been true all along:

God is at work — always  — in ways we see and in ways we don’t.

Amen.