There’s this pool with five porches, and legend had it that an angel would stir the water and whoever got in first got healed. Which is kind of ridiculous, right? But if you’ve ever been desperate for healing, you’d sit by that pool for 38 years too.
Jesus sees this one man and asks him: do you want to be made well? The man doesn’t answer yes or no. He just explains why he hasn’t gotten healed yet—he’s alone, nobody to help him, everybody gets in front of him in line. That’s not what Jesus asked.
But Jesus doesn’t correct him. Jesus just says: get up. Pick up your mat. Walk.
And the man does. All those years of being helpless are gone.
Then the Sabbath police notice he’s carrying his mat on the Sabbath, which was against the law. And they give him a hard time about it. The man just says what happened—the guy who healed me told me to do this. So I did.
Here’s the thing: Jesus could have waited. Jesus had all kinds of power over water. He could have stirred up that pool. He could have thrown the man in and let him experience healing the way he expected to experience it. But he didn’t. He met that particular man where he was and gave him what he needed: not a miracle of the water, but a command to stand up and walk. That required something from the man too. It required him to try.
We keep looking for one healing template that works for everybody. But Jesus didn’t work that way. Each person was individual. Each person had their own life, their own history, their own future. And Jesus knew that. He was aware of it. And he loved each person as they actually were.
Sometimes he touched people. Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he was gentle. Sometimes he was direct. But he always met people where they were.
A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope