By Tim Niekerk
John 5:6-9
When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, He asked him, “Do you want to get well?” “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured.
“Do you want to get well?” Jesus’ question has always felt a little insensitive to me. This man had been unable to walk for thirty-eight years. Of course he wanted healing. Why else would he spend his days beside the pool of Bethesda waiting for the water to stir?
But Jesus’ question exposes something deeper. The man doesn’t really answer the question. Instead, he explains why he is still there. He tells Jesus who keeps beating him to the pool and how the system has failed him. His hope had narrowed to a single method: this pool, this moment, this way. And while he waited for God to act according to his expectations, God was standing right in front of him.
Sound familiar? We often pray with sincere faith but tightly scripted outcomes. We want God to show up here, according to our plan, and on our timetable.
And when He doesn’t, we assume He hasn’t shown up at all. Lent invites us to examine again not just what God has done for us through the cross and empty tomb, but also what He is doing in our lives today in ways we never imagined.
There’s another uncomfortable truth in this story: Jesus healed one man. Surely there were others just as desperate, just as needy, and just as faithful. Scripture gives no explanation. That tension humbles us. God’s mercy is never earned, managed, or distributed according to our logic. He is God, and we are not.
So what can we learn from this miracle? Jesus sees. Jesus speaks. Jesus heals… sometimes in ways we don’t understand, but always in ways that invite us to trust.
Pray with me…
Heavenly Father, search my heart. Show me where I have limited You to my expectations and missed the ways You are already at work in my life. Help me trust You when Your mercy feels mysterious and Your timing is confusing. Teach me to receive Your grace with open hands and not clenched plans. Just like the man at the pool, I want to be made well according to Your plan. Amen.