In John 5, Jesus encounters a man beside the pool of Bethesda. We don’t know much about this man. We only know that he had been an invalid for thirty-eight years and that he, along with many other disabled people, gathered regularly at this pool with superstitious hopes that he could be healed. In other words, this man was not unlike so many in our world today. He was hurting and in need of rescue.
As he laid on his mat this particular day, Jesus happened upon him and asked him a surprising question, “Do you want to be healed?” Most would assume the answer to be obvious, but it was not. When asked if he wanted to be healed, this man responded with a list of excuses. Jesus asked a simple “yes” or “no” question, but the response was a convoluted series of excuses as to why this man could not be healed.
His mat had become his identity. The pool of bethesda had become his community. He couldn’t see past his circumstance.
The God of the universe was offering healing and this man was going to lean on his own superstitious understanding. If this scene had taken place in the twenty-first century, the man on the mat might have replied, “This is who I am. I can’t be changed.”
But there is even more to the story if we look a little deeper. The man laying on this mat hoped to be helped into a pool of water because he believed healing was in those waters. A disabled man wanted to be dropped into a pool of water where he would almost certainly drown. His desire was disastrous, but he couldn’t even see the error of his ways.
Jesus heard his excuses and met them with expectations. Jesus responded to the man with these words, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” The command of Jesus was not onerous. The command of Jesus was the opposite of what this man wanted, but it was exactly what he needed. The commands of Jesus often feel backward and difficult to us, but it isn’t because Jesus’s commands are wrong. Jesus’s expectations feel hard because we have grown comfortable in a broken world.
If you have been laying on a dirty mat for thirty-eight years, the command to walk can seem burdensome, but only until you take those first few steps. Jesus commands give life in the middle of our death. He commands us to breathe, to walk, to live. In our pride, we often look up from our mat and demand, “Who are you to tell me what to do?”
The answer: “I am the good shepherd.”
He is good, loving, patient, and kind. He is the God who came to earth as a man to live and die on our behalf. He is enough.
Jesus meets our excuses with expectations. Our desires will often lead to our destruction. Jesus re-orients our desires and gives life.
So, get up off your mat. Get over your excuses. Jesus wants to give you life. It is true, he will mess up your community. You will probably have to give up your mat, you may lose your community, but you will gain life and freedom. You will gain friendship with Christ for all of eternity.
Photo by Jakub Pabis on Unsplash
