May God be merciful to us and bless us, *
show us the light of his countenance and come to us. (Psalm 67:1)
It starts the same way every year. Around the time of my birthday, I would take stock. I would look at those things that I wanted to change– things that would lead to better health, more times with family and friends, becoming better organized, cleaning out closets, on and on and so I would make a list. In the beginning I made long lists with the idea that I would get everything out there and just start chipping away at things to change or increase or decrease in my life. But that was depressing. Then I thought that it would be better to just select two or three things and really put my attention and energy toward a few items to help insure that I would achieve certain things at the top of my list. But even that became over time mainly signs of my failure at self discipline. I didn’t seem to be making much progress toward the change that would lead me to life abundant.
Jesus is in Jerusalem for a festival. He has come to the Pool of Bethesda (called in Hebrew Beth-zatha), a place where people with many different maladies gather in hopes that they would find healing. Jesus approaches a man who we are told has been sitting by this pool for 38 years. Tradition had it that when the waters were miraculously stirred up they took on therapeutic powers and that the first one to enter the troubled waters of the pool would be healed of their disease or disabilities. This man had been sitting beside this pool and for 38 years had failed to enter the pool first. He had been edged out time and again. Still he came and sat and hoped that this time something would change. But his approach to healing had just gone on and on with the same result. It has become his life—sitting and waiting that something different would happen—that by magic his luck and his life would change. Jesus sees him, recognizes his need and asks him, “Do you want to be made well?” It is addressed to the man at the pool, but it also speaks to our hearts. Do you want to be made well?
The word for “heal” (hygies, related to “hygiene”) can mean physical health. It is also used for soundness (Titus 2:8). So it means more of a sense of being whole, of being right with the world. So Jesus asks the man and us—Do you want to be whole? Do you want a healing that will bring you into your full self—into the fullest possible relationship with God, with yourself, with others?
Immediately the man offers a recount of how hard he has tried and how often he has been prevented from achieving his goals. “I have tried before to get into the pool. But I am just not fast enough or strong enough or cunning enough. I’ve been here 38 years and by now I kind of know what to expect. I have grown comfortable with the people here who share my space. Thank you for asking, but I’m pretty used to being here. Thank you all the same.”
Jesus says, “Stand up, take up your mat and walk.”
How hard it can be to hear those words. Even though we may long for a life that brings health, renewal, and growth, we may have become too comfortable in our familiar patterns. We may have grown accustomed to our daily routines and feel too attached to them to reach for change—even a change that will give us life. Over time we may have grown accustomed to a familiar way of being. We may say we want to get up and walk, but we actually have grown content with the way thing are. An affliction we know is sometimes better than a cure that is uncertain. The efforts required to move ourselves forward toward a hoped for dream can seem too strenuous or intimidating. So although we may not say it out loud, our actions point to the reality that we may prefer staying where we are to taking actions or making decisions that require any change. So we live life to the minimum. And we say we want change when we actually want to remain the same—but we want to feel better about it.
We may also suffer from a culture-induced misalignment in our lives. In a 2004 article in the journal Science, a team of scholars, including the Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman, surveyed a group of women to compare how much satisfaction they derived from their daily activities. Among voluntary activities, we might expect that choices would roughly line up with satisfaction. Not so. The women reported drawing more satisfaction from prayer, worship, and meditation than from watching television. Yet the average respondent spent more than five times as long watching TV as engaging in spiritual activities.
And if anything, this study understates the misalignment problem. The American Time Use Survey from the Bureau of Labor Statistics shows that, in 2014, the average American adult spent four times longer watching television than “socializing and communicating,” and 20 times longer on TV that on “religious and spiritual activities.” The survey did not ask about time on the internet, but we can imagine a similar disparity.[1]
This misalignment leads to listlessness and regret. However, the secret is not simply a resolution to stop wasting time, it is to find a systematic way to raise the scarcity of time to our consciousness. We should be asking, “Am I honoring my scarce and precious life?”
Often we know what is good and do not do it. But sometimes we just do not take the time to truly see what will bring us life. Like the man at the pool, excuses can stand in the way when God calls us not only to stand up, but offers us the grace filled power to start moving toward our full future.
This year in Lent, I along with some of the members of this community began looking at the stewardship of my one precious life in a different way. I decided to identify those things that make me whole. Rather than taking things away, I decided to instead put out in front those things that brings me into wonder—that gives me joy—that draws me closer to becoming my true self in Christ?
I began with my relationship with God. How do I spend time with God? What helps me grow closer to God? What helps me experience God’s active presence in my life?
I looked at what brings me joy in life? What do I do for fun? How do I create time for relaxation and rest?
I looked at the relationships in my life. How do I care for those close to me? How do I create space to enjoy those relationships that are life giving? How do I offer welcome to others?
And I thought about my work—the work that I offer up to God. How do I put the gifts I have been given to their best use? How do I continue to learn and grow? What do I need to do the work I have been given to do?
Jesus comes to us—sees us and recognizes what we need to be free, what we need to be whole—what we need to be fully alive. In the words of Mary Oliver, “What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.”[2] There is no pre-requisite for accepting Jesus’ offer—just the sometimes challenging choice of giving up our comfortable place on the mat. Jesus does not even ask the man for proof of faith. Indeed, the man seems completely unaware of who is giving him his freedom from illness. Jesus simply invites him to wholeness.
In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he writes, “So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going to work, and walking around life—and place it before God as an offering. Fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of mindlessness, God brings the best out of you, develops well formed maturity in you.”[3]
Jesus is a healer. Jesus is a life giver. There are many stories of Jesus’ healing in the Gospels. Jesus wants to move people from illness to health, from death to life. Of course, God’s power can work in our weakness, as Paul says. And people have accomplished great things through their illness or disability. But Jesus wants for us life. Jesus wants us to be whole. Jesus offers us the way to our “true selves.” Our true selves being what God is doing through time to bring us to completion, to wholeness in Christ.
Getting well can require us to make changes or revisit our priorities. It may be as simple as taking time to pray and reflect on what is most important and then offering that to God. It may mean taking a risk that you have been avoiding that will bring you to a new vitality, a new sense of robustness. It may mean rediscovering a task, an activity, a practice that reminds you of your true self. Being willing to stand up, responding to God’s call and moving forward in trust in God’s goodness, frees us to move toward abundant life.
There is an old story about a saint named Abbot Joseph who lived during the fourth century CE. He offered wisdom to many young monks who were trying to find their way. One day a frustrated monk sought the abbot for guidance. The young monk explained that he was doing everything he was told to do but still felt a void. He fasted and prayed. He spent time in contemplative silence and meditated on the Scriptures. He did his best to cleanse his heart of bad thoughts. He did all he knew to do, but there was still something missing.
Desperate he asked the abbot, “What more should I do?” The abbot rose up in reply and lifted his hands to heaven. Suddenly, his fingers became like ten lamps on fire. As the young monk looked on with amazement, the abbot said, “Why not be totally changed into fire?”
Jesus wants for us wholeness–a life afire with God’s love—afire with abundance. Jesus meets the man at the pool and focuses on one question, “Do you want to be made well?”
What is keeping us stuck within reach of healing water? What is calling us to new life in God that requires us only to stand, pick up our mat and go?! When we open ourselves to God’s creative possibilities, miracles occur—not contrary to nature—but emerging from nature. Our healing has begun. No longer living by excuses, we walk forward to new life in Jesus Christ and are then free to go to work healing, hoping, serving, and living a life on fire with joy and abundance.
[1] Arthur C. Brooks. “To be happier, start thinking more about your death.” New York Times, January 9, 2016.
[2] Mary Oliver, “ The Summer Day,” New and Selected Poems, Volume 1. Boston MA: Beacon Press, 1992, 94.
[3] Romans 12: 1-13, The Message