Our story occurs on a Sabbath (v. 14). Jesus has returned to Judea, where he has been teaching in the temple courts (John 8:2). It is mid-October; the annual Feast of Tabernacles has just occurred.

Now Jesus notices a man who could not see him: "As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth" (John 9:1).

The Greek word translated "saw" here means to fix the gaze, to look earnestly. Jesus gave him more than a passing glance—he paid attention to his predicament.

And when he saw the man, he saw his need: he was "blind from birth."

Simple observation could not have told him this. How would anyone know when the man's blindness had begun?

It's possible that the man told him, or that his reputation preceded him (cf. v. 8). But the syntax suggests to me that the instant Jesus saw the man he knew that his blindness was congenital. If he could heal this man's blindness, he could certainly determine its source. And he knew this man had no medical options. He needed not a physician, but a miracle.

What Jesus knew of this man, he knows today of you: "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious concerning me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand" (Psalm 139:15-18). The Physician who saw this man and his need sees yours. The blind man could not see Jesus, as we cannot see him today. But the one who cannot see is visible to the One who can.

He sees you and your problems today: "…your Father knows what you need before you ask him" (Matthew 6:8). Our prayers do not inform God of our needs; rather, they yield them to the only One who can solve them.

Pain is isolating. We think no one knows our problem. But the One we cannot see, can see us. Where you are, at this moment. He has stopped at your side today, whether you know it or not.