U2 Song: "Staring at the Sun"

“Staring at the Sun” is a song about chosen blindness. Not ignorance, not lack of information, but the deliberate refusal to see what is already too bright, too exposing, too demanding. Self-deception. A John 3:19,20 kind of deceit.

The central image works because it cuts both ways. To stare at the sun is to look directly at the source of light, truth, and life, yet doing so without protection guarantees damage. The song suggests that many of us would rather accept blindness than risk what honest sight might cost us. The fear is not that nothing is there, but that too much is there. “Afraid of what you’d find if you took a look inside” names the problem clearly. The danger lies within, not outside.

Throughout the song, small irritations and creeping discomforts accumulate. Insects crawl, something itches, something buzzes in the ear and will not go away. These images echo the voice of conscience. Sin is not always dramatic rebellion. Often it is the persistent, nagging awareness that something is wrong, paired with the decision to scratch instead of heal, to distract instead of repent. The scratching promises relief but only deepens the wound.

The line about being “stuck together with God’s glue” is quietly unsettling. It suggests that even in brokenness, there is still a kind of binding grace holding things together. But grace does not eliminate consequences. “It’s going to get stickier too” implies that ignoring truth does not freeze the situation. It compounds it. The longer we avoid the light, the harder it becomes to face it.

The song widens its scope from the personal to the public. Military presence, political paralysis, authority figures who refuse to act, preachers who speak without doing. The blindness is collective. Systems persist because people benefit from not seeing too clearly. The referee will not blow the whistle because the game itself has become more important than justice. Even faith is implicated. “God is good but will he listen?” is not doubt about God’s character, but anxiety about whether prayer has become another way to avoid responsibility.

Scripture often treats light this way. Jesus says that people love darkness because light exposes deeds. Paul speaks of minds being darkened not by lack of revelation, but by refusal to honor God. “Staring at the Sun” captures that tension. The light is present. The question is whether we will look long enough to be healed, or just long enough to justify our blindness.

The song ends without resolution, which feels honest. Going blind is not a one-time decision. It is a habit. A posture. The tragedy is not that people cannot see, but that they are “happy to go blind.” The song leaves us with an uncomfortable invitation. Either step back into the light, or keep staring until seeing becomes impossible.