Jesus at Bethesda

Today’s lesson was on one of Jesus’ miracles, his healing of the man at the pool of Bethesda in John 5:2-14. It’s about a man—presumably crippled—who’d been lying at the pool hoping for a miracle for 38 years. It was said that the waters of the pool were periodically disturbed by an angel and that the first person into the water after the disturbance would be healed. For years, this man had waited on such a miraculous healing for himself, but since he had no one to help him down into the pool he was always too late.


Jesus approached this man out of the crowd and asked if he wanted to be healed. The man explained the hopelessness of his situation, but Jesus said, “Get up, take up your bed and walk.” And the man did! When he turned around again, though, Jesus had disappeared into the crowd.

Now, some of the Jewish religious elite saw this man wandering around carrying his bed and were none to happy. It was the Sabbath day, you see, and carrying your bed was “work”—a strict taboo on a day that was supposed to be dedicated to the Lord. They demanded that the man stop carrying his bed, but the man replied that the one who’d healed him told him to carry it. “And who’s that?” they demanded. The poor man didn’t know.

Later, though, he happened to meet Jesus at the temple and Jesus gave him a remarkable warning: “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” Then, the man knew who it was who’d healed him.

There are several remarkable points to this story that were touched on in the sermon and that I see. First of all, the story shows how Christ has—and is—hope for the hopeless. The man knows a miracle is his only chance of recovery and has waited 38 years for one. He has lost all hope, as one can tell from his reply in verse 7. Jesus asks him if he wants to be healed, and instead of saying, “Yes, I’d love to be healed,” the man can only grumble about the hopelessness of his situation. He has given up and sunk in despair. Yet Jesus hasn’t given up on him. God has not even begun to really move in his life. When He does, it only takes one simple sentence to set the man up on his feet and send him on his way back home. The situation, which is hopeless to man, is a synch to God.

In my own life, there are several hopeless situations. There are sins I can’t seem to beat, goals I can never obtain, and battles I can never win. Some situations are so dauntingly impossible that—more often then not—I shy away from facing them altogether. No doubt you can sympathize. Everyone has their own Goliaths—as a Max Lucado put it—“giant” situations, people, or sins that we can’t seem to face and that delight in lording our hopelessness over us.

But a hopeless situation isn’t hopeless to God. Luke 1:37 and Matthew 19:26 say that to God nothing is impossible. The things that we find impossible are possible to Him. He can enable us to overcome our Goliaths, as He enabled the man—crippled at the end of his line—to pick up his bed and walk away.

Second, the sermon noted the compassion of Jesus on this man. In verse 14 Jesus tells him to “sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” Evidently, his first ailment was caused by sin. In other words, it was the man’s own fault that he was lying there by the pool of Bethesda, needing a miracle. His sin was responsible for his condition. Perhaps the connection was obvious: some affliction particularly associated with the sin he had committed. Perhaps it was circumstantial: a malady that struck him down in the act. Perhaps the connection was only known to him and to God Himself. In any case, both Jesus and the man knew why he was lying by the pool of Bethesda. The man had sinned, he had done wrong: he had screwed up and screwed up his life as a result. Thirty-eight years gone for the sin he’d committed. Perhaps that was just how long it took God to really get his attention. In any case, the man who looks up on Christ at Bethesda that day is a broken man who has no one to blame but himself. He knows it. Christ knows it too…and Christ has compassion on him.

My father asked pointedly if we would do the same. We who are Christians, are we like our Christ? When a drug user has an overdose, when an active homosexual (or adulterer for that matter) contracts AIDS, when a thief is caught, when a murderer is sentenced, a bully is sent home crying, or a habitual liar finds himself friendless and un-trusted…what is our reaction? Do we have compassion, or do we say, “It serves you right”?

This is a hard question because, in one sense our serves-you-right is correct. It does serve a sinner right when his ways catch up with him. God is the one who said, “Whoever sheds man’s blood, by man his blood must be shed” (Genesis 9:6). God is also the one who made laws against stealing, and punishments for the thief who was caught. He’s the one who handed down laws against every sin of man, and He’s the one who designed our bodies, relationships, and lives in such a way that violating those laws has justly negative consequences. More, we cannot ignore that is the God who created Hell and justly demands it as a punishment of sin. God is not ashamed to see justice done. According to Revelation 14:11 the smoke of the fires of Hell ascends up eternally before God. God does not shy away from doing justice, nor is He ashamed of it when it is done, and neither should we be. So in one sense, when we see justice done on the sinner we should recognize it as a good thing: justice needs to be satisfied. God holiness and greatness are seen when it is so.

But we should not forget compassion. Here Christ has compassion on the man who’s wallowing in the just result of his own sins. Three chapters later, he has compassion on a woman caught in the act of adultery and delivers her from the legal punishment for that crime (although a case can be made in that instance that some of gross injustice was going on—after all the woman was being punished alone even though she was “caught in the very act of adultery” and legally the adulterer and the adulteress were supposed to suffer the same fate, which raises the question: how do a bunch of Pharisees catch a woman alone in the very act of adultery?...very suspicious. No wonder they all left when Jesus asked for an innocent man to throw the first stone). In Matthew chapter 5, verses 44 and 45 commands us to love our enemies, “so that you may be the sons of your Father who is in Heaven. For He makes His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” Earlier in the Bible, God declares: “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live” (Ezekiel 33:11). God loves even sinners. It is a yearning—sometimes tragic—kind of love. It is that love that sent Christ to Earth…coming for the sinner at the pool of Bethesda, the woman caught in adultery, and the thief on the cross (Luke 23:40-43). But we must also remember that He came for the Pharisees—not to argue with them, but to save them from their sins through His death (and some were saved such as Joseph of Arimathea, Luke 23:50-52)—, and for the Romans who crucified Him. He also came, in the very same way, for His disciples who followed Him through thick and thin three years only to flee on the last night. It is also important for us to remember that He came for us in the exact same way. Whether we think we are better or worse than the people on whom God’s justice falls, we’re wrong. We are all sinners and God died for all of us, to satisfy His justice against us all so that none of us need take the punishment for our sin (Christ has already paid it). We are all wicked. By Christ’s sacrifice, we can all be made righteous. The only difference, then, between the sinners who are punished and the saints who are forgiven is that the latter have by the grace of God accepted and believed what Christ did for them and the former have not. Let us remember that when we see a sinner suffering justly: “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” Perhaps that will help us have compassion, or at the very least, sympathy.

But here’s another thing to note for ourselves. I know I find it helpful, and I hope you do too: Christ extends the same compassion to the cripple of Bethesda as He does to us today. Many a time, I know I’ve found myself in a bad spot…and known it was all my fault. I’ve found myself rushing to class—already late as I head out the door. And why am I late? Oh, that’s right, because I was playing a game and decided to go one more round when I knew I didn’t have the time (and I probably shouldn’t be playing that game at all)…or I decided to linger over Dilbert (my page-a-day calendar) when I knew I needed to be double-timing it out the door…or stopped to chat with a friend when I knew I should say: “Hey, I’ll see you later!” So, I’m on my way to class, sweating about being late, missing material, and getting docked points…and now is when I turn to God. I’m nervous as I do so. This is the God of the universe here, after all, the One who numbered all my days, the One who has the most cause to be upset with me right now. I don’t lightly turn to Him. It’s not like I screw up my life on purpose and just flippantly throw it at Him and say, “Here! Fix it for me, sugar daddy!” In fact, I’m a little hesitant to turn to Him. I don’t know what to say. When I go to Him, is His just anger at my procrastination all I’ll find? I’m afraid, to tell the truth, but I need help and I’ve nowhere else to go. I’m hopeless once again, and I need Him.

Time and again, I find myself at this crossroads. Mind you, it’s not always—or even mostly—procrastination. Usually, it’s something worse. At times like these, I know what I need to do: I need to turn to my Savior and my God. I know that doing anything else is pointless. I have just one chance, and that’s God. He’s the only one who can pull a victory out of these situations. He’s the only one who can make me the man He wants me to be, the man I need to be if I am to survive.

Sometimes, I wonder if God is up to the challenge, but only briefly. Of course, He can overcome anything: He made everything! At other times I wonder if He cares enough to pull off the necessary rescue. He never lets that doubt endure long: His love is unfailing, unceasing, and often arrives when it is least expected and most needed. The question that haunts me is me. What will I do in response to God? When God calls to me, “Rise, take up your bed, and walk,” will I have the faith to just get up and do it, or will I continue to lay at the side of the pool in despondency? That’s the doubt that keeps me up at night…but this too must be laid aside. It is God who gives us faith and strength, whose Spirit works within us to purify and perfect us. It is Christ who healed the man at Bethesda, despite his hopelessness. Our despair does not dilute His power. May it be seen in me tonight!