You might be familiar with Chris McCausland, the comedian who won Strictly Come Dancing with Diane Buswell in 2024.
That win was all the more remarkable because Chris has a degenerative condition which led him to gradually lose his eyesight from birth and, by his early twenties, he was completely blind. For many sighted people, innovations such as voice-controlled assistants on a smartphone are nice things to have, but for Chris, they have been life-changing.
Recently, he presented a documentary on the BBC exploring how cutting-edge technology could potentially transform his life even more in the future. At one point, Chris tried on some AI enhanced smart glasses, which would have enabled him to ‘see’ some wonderful buildings and scenery, but he was more interested in being able to go shopping for vinyl records and order food off a menu for his friends.
The programme made me think about how blindness is represented in the Bible and if, or how, the temporary blindness that we heard about in our reading from Acts affected what Paul wrote in his subsequent ministry.
I discovered that blindness runs through the Bible in surprising ways. Sometimes the blindness is physical. But sometimes it is spiritual. Sometimes it is chosen and sometimes it is imposed. And often, paradoxically, blindness is the place where God begins the work of true vision.
In Acts 9, which we heard read earlier, Saul of Tarsus is struck blind on the road to Damascus. Yet this blindness is not punishment – it is transformation. To understand it fully, we need to place Saul’s blindness alongside other kinds of blindness found in Scripture.
Saul: certain, confident, blind
Saul begins Acts 9 full of certainty. He is educated, zealous and confident. He knows who the enemies are. He knows what must be done and he gets on and does it regardless of who stands in his way. Remind you of anyone in the news at the moment?
Luke describes him as ‘breathing threats and murder.’ Saul is not confused; he is focused. But that clarity is precisely the problem. Saul sees clearly only within the narrow boundaries of his own conviction. And then, suddenly, light. A light so bright that it blinds him.
This is the first great irony: Saul encounters divine light and instead of seeing more clearly, he sees nothing at all. For three days, he is blind, helpless, dependent – and he is also silent.
Because Saul’s blindness strips him of control. The man who led others must now be led by the hand. The one who judged others must now wait to be judged mercifully by the very people he had come to persecute. This blindness is not the loss of sight – it is the loss of illusion.
Pharaoh: blindness that refuses to learn
Contrast Saul with the Pharaoh in Exodus. Pharaoh is repeatedly shown signs and miracles. His metaphorical blindness is not from lack of evidence but from his refusal to respond. Each plague reveals more truth, yet Pharaoh hardens his heart again and again.
Unlike Saul, Pharaoh never stops to listen. His blindness is defensive. It protects power, pride and control. Saul’s blindness opens him to transformation – Pharaoh’s blindness seals him against it.
The difference is not intelligence or knowledge – it is humility, or the lack of it.
The disciples: seeing but not understanding
The Gospels show another kind of blindness. The disciples walk with Jesus, hear his teaching, witness the miracles – and yet they still misunderstand him repeatedly.
Peter sees Jesus heal the blind, yet cannot see the meaning of the cross. James and John see the kingdom coming, yet imagine thrones of power.
This is not malicious blindness. It is partial sight.
Like Saul before Damascus, the disciples see something – but not enough. They are not yet ready to see clearly. Their blindness is healed slowly, through failure, forgiveness and the work of the Spirit.
The Pharisees: sight that refuses the light
In John 9, Jesus heals a man born blind. But the most striking blindness in that story belongs to those who can see perfectly well.
The Pharisees examine the evidence, question the man, interrogate his parents – and still refuse to believe.
Jesus’ words are sharp: ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see,” your sin remains.’
This is the most dangerous blindness of all: the blindness that insists it already sees clearly. And Saul is perilously close to this kind of blindness before Damascus. He believes his sight is perfect. It takes the shock of divine light to show him otherwise.
Samson: strength without sight
Back in the OT, we have the story of Samson, whose blindness is literal and tragic. After trusting in his own strength rather than in God’s, he loses his sight, his strength and his freedom. Yet it is in blindness that Samson finally prays honestly.
Only when he cannot see does he truly see his dependence on God. Samson’s story echoes Saul’s: strength undone, control lost, and then faith rediscovered.
Ananias: seeing past fear
The story of Acts 9 would not be complete without Ananias. Ananias is not blind – but he is afraid. He knows Saul’s reputation and he sees only danger.
Yet God invites Ananias into a deeper sight, a more profound vision: to see Saul not as the enemy, but as a chosen instrument. The healing of blindness requires courage – not only for the blind, but for those asked to help them see.
When blindness becomes grace
Saul’s sight returns – but not as it was. He sees the world differently now. Power is redefined. What was strength is now weakness. God’s glory is revealed in suffering love.
Later, Paul says: ‘Now we see in a mirror, dimly…’ He never forgets Damascus. He never forgets that true sight is a gift, not an achievement.
Similarly, in 2 Corinthians he writes: ‘For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts…’ (2 Cor 4:6). This sounds unmistakably like Damascus theology: light that overwhelms, blinds and then re-creates.
Paul uses light & dark imagery more than almost any other NT writer: ‘You were once darkness, but now in the Lord you are light.’ (Ephesians 5:8). I think there’s a hint of autobiography there as well as philosophy.
Paul’s blindness left him dependent, led by the hand, fasting, waiting. This loss of control marks his theology forever. ‘When I am weak, then I am strong.’ (2 Corinthians 12:10)
The man who once acted decisively now insists that God works most clearly through fragility. Blindness stripped Paul of authority – and then reshaped it. Paul’s temporary blindness was not an episode to be moved past. It was a foundational reorientation.
It taught him that sight can deceive; that certainty can blind; that revelation comes as a gift; that weakness is not failure – and that God interrupts before God sends. Paul never stopped writing like a man who learned to see by first being made blind.
What kind of blindness do we carry?
Scripture does not treat blindness as simple tragedy – sometimes it is mercy. Blindness can also prepare the soul for grace. But blindness can cover-up pride and resist truth. I wonder if we have some kind of blindness? Where is our vision faulty?
Saul was blinded so that he could see. Pharaoh refused to see and was destroyed by it. The Pharisees claimed sight but lost the truth. The disciples saw dimly and learned slowly. And Ananias learned to see with trust.
The Chris McCausland documentary finished with him joking with one of the scientists if he’d put a nano-chip in his brain to give him high-resolution night vision – so that he could beat everyone at Laser Quest. I’ll leave you to think about what your own personal theological equivalent of that might be…
But for now, may we be people who do not fear the light – even when it unsettles us. And may God grant us the grace to see truly, even if it begins in darkness. Amen.
‘Blinded by the light’ was delivered by Ian Banks at Christ Church Walmersley on 24th January 2026. It was based on Acts 9:1-22.