From the recording The Blind Man Who Taught Me To See
The Blind Man Who Taught Me to See is based on a true story from a mission trip to Argentina. While serving in Buenos Aires, Pastor Jedidiah Gaines befriended a blind man named Axle Alberti, a perfume salesman who traveled the city's train routes each day. After spending time together and developing a friendship, Jedidiah felt led to pray for Axle to receive his sight.
Expecting gratitude and anticipation, he instead received an answer he never forgot.
Axle explained that he had never possessed sight and that seeing would feel strange to him. Then he spoke words that remained in Jedidiah's heart for decades:
"I hear very well how mean people can be, and I prefer not to see their faces."
In that moment, the missionary who thought he had come to bring a blessing discovered that he was the one receiving it. The encounter became a lifelong lesson about perspective, compassion, and the difference between physical sight and spiritual understanding.
Set against the backdrop of Buenos Aires train stations, public parks, and everyday life, this song is a tribute to friendship, humility, and the unexpected teachers God places along our path.
Sometimes the blind man is not the one who needs to see. 🌅🚂🇦🇷🎶📜❤️
Lyrics
Station Man
Creation Date
19 Jun 2026, 5:05 AM
Characters
2841
Genres
ballad-pop, spanish argentina guitars, piano-driven, congo drums, saxophone-infused
Languages
English
Vocalist gender
Male
(TITLE: THE BLIND MAN WHO TAUGHT ME TO SEE)
(STYLE: Acoustic folk ballad. Rich Mullins style storytelling. Gentle guitar. Light strings. Sounds of trains and stations. Reflective. Deeply human. Missionary journal feel. Male vocal. Emotional but not sentimental. The listener should slowly realize the missionary is the one being changed.)
(VERSE 1)
I met him near a station
somewhere in Buenos Aires,
a blind man with a suitcase
and perfume samples there.
The trains came and went around us,
he knew every sound they made,
he walked those crowded platforms
like he'd memorized the maze.
(VERSE 2)
I traveled there beside him,
through stops I'd never known,
he sold hope in little bottles
and somehow was never alone.
I listened to his stories,
I watched him greet the day,
and wondered how a blind man
could navigate that way.
(PRE-CHORUS)
Then one afternoon
compassion filled my heart,
and I thought perhaps the Lord
had brought us there for this part.
(CHORUS)
To see or not to see,
that wasn't really the question.
The question was:
Who was blind that day?
I came to bring a blessing,
but a blessing found me there.
The blind man at the station
was the man who taught me to see.
(VERSE 3)
I said,
"Would you let me pray for you?
Would you like your sight restored?"
I expected tears and gratitude,
I expected something more.
Instead he smiled so gently,
like he'd heard it all before,
and what he said that afternoon
still echoes to my core.
(CHORUS)
To see or not to see,
that wasn't really the question.
The question was:
Who was blind that day?
I came to bring a blessing,
but a blessing found me there.
The blind man at the station
was the man who taught me to see.
(BRIDGE)
He said:
"I don't want my sight returned.
I've never had it anyway.
To suddenly start seeing
would be strange to me today.
Besides...
I hear very well
how mean people can be.
And honestly,
I'd rather not see their faces."
(INSTRUMENTAL PAUSE)
(VERSE 4)
The trains kept moving onward,
but time stood still for me.
Because somewhere in that moment
he revealed reality.
Some men have perfect eyesight
yet never truly see.
Some men walk in darkness
yet perceive eternity.
(FINAL CHORUS)
To see or not to see,
that wasn't really the question.
The question was:
Who was blind that day?
I thought I came to help him,
but Heaven had another plan.
The blind man at the station
helped me understand.
(OUTRO)
Years have passed since then,
but I still remember his face.
Or maybe that's the funny thing...
I never really saw his blindness.
I only saw his grace.
(PRODUCTION NOTE: The bridge should nearly stop the music. Let the blind man's words stand alone. Long pause after "I'd rather not see their faces." Final chorus should feel reflective, not triumphant. The listener should leave asking what true sight really is.)