Thriving: Caught by Surprise (Jn. 5:1-17) Chris Altrock – January 17, 2016

On Sunday mornings, we are making our way through John’s Gospel.

• Two Sundays ago I shared how this gospel is focused on the topic of “thriving.” In Jesus, John writes, we gain the capacity not simply to be alive, but to thrive. We saw how that theme of thriving is woven into the beginning of John in Jn. 1 and the end of John in Jn. 20.
• One Sunday ago, Eric spoke about one of the most profound statements in John’s Gospel. It’s found in Jn. 3 where John the Baptist says, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (Jn. 3:30 ESV)
• This morning we come to chapters 4-5 which contain a story of Jewish Jesus interacting with a Samaritan woman, Jesus healing the son of an important official, and Jesus teaching about religious authority. Chapter 5 is where we find the story which is our focus this morning: 

1 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. 3 In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. 5 One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” 7 The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” 8 Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” 9 And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath. 10 So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” 11 But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’” 12 They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” 13 Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. 14 Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” 15 The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. 16 And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. 17 But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” (Jn. 5:1-17 ESV)

This story takes place at a pool, actually a pair of pools, called “Bethesda.”^[1] These large pools sat outside the north wall of Jerusalem, not far from the temple.  

The word “Bethesda” is significant.^[2] It means “house of mercy” (Aram. bê? ?esdâ) or “house of outpouring” (Heb. bê? ’ešdâ). These two pools were where people with grave needs gathered to find healing. They were a house where people came to find mercy. They were a house where people came for an outpouring of healing.

In the story there are two characters who think they know how things work in this house. The first character is a sick man whom John writes “had been an invalid for thirty-eight years.” The sick man describes himself as mostly paralyzed. More significantly, he describes himself as fully alone:

Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me. (Jn. 5:7 ESV).

He has “no one.” He has no one to put him into the water when the water is “stirred up.” He is mostly paralyzed and fully alone.

The text doesn’t directly tell us this, but apparently the sick man has also accepted a kind of mystical belief about how this house of mercy works. The blind, lame and paralyzed would watch the water in these two pools. And when the water stirred, when the water moved, they believed there was something divine behind it. They believed an angel of the Lord was stirring the water. They  believed that the first one in the water after that stirring might be healed.

In other words, they viewed these pools as a healing shrine. There were other healing shrines in the ancient world.^[3] They were similar to the area of France known today as Lourdes, where millions of pilgrims flock each year, seeking mercy or healing.^[4] Bethesda was a place like this.

And as strange as it may seem to us, that is how this man believed God’s mercy worked. It worked by stirring up the water and healing the first person in. But that belief made this sick man very weary.

Sometimes we believe God’s mercy only works in certain ways—and it makes us weary. Listen again to the man: “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” For thirty-eight years this man has believed that this is how God’s mercy worked. And it hasn’t worked for him. Every time the water is stirred, he can’t get in. Can you hear the weariness in his voice?

By the way, according to Deut. 2:14, thirty-eight years is how long Israel wandered in the desert. That’s what this man feels like he’s been doing–wandering in the desert. He feels like Israel in the wilderness – weary.

And that’s how it is when you think you know how God works, but then God doesn’t.  You get weary. The weariness of resignation.

The other character in the story who thinks they know something of how God works in the house of mercy is simply called “the Jews.” This is a reference to leaders in the Jewish religious hierarchy.

The day on which this all happened was a Sabbath. It is hard to overestimate the sacredness of the Sabbath to the Jews in the first century. No matter what a person was doing wrong, if he was keeping the Sabbath, he was pretty good with God. And no matter what a person was doing right, if he wasn’t keeping the the Sabbath, he was not good with God. So, while the Bible never prescribed this, Jewish leaders like these came up with thirty-nine categories of work that were deemed to violate the Sabbath. (Stott, 95). If you engaged in any of these thirty-nine activities, you were violating the Sabbath.

And what this man who has just been healed is doing fits into one of those thirty-nine categories. They see him taking up his bed. And their first reaction is not, “Hallelujah! This brother of ours has been healed!” Their first reaction is this:

It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed. (Jn. 5:10 ESV)

They don’t hallelujah! because this man’s been healed. They condemn because he’s carrying his bed.  How could they have missed this miracle? Here’s how–they were absolutely certain that this was not how mercy worked. Why? Because it happened on a Sabbath. And the God they they believed simply did not do these types of works on the Sabbath. And that belief led to a spirituality that was so wearisome. The weariness of condemnation.

Sometimes we believe God’s mercy never works in certain ways–and it makes us weary. Can’t you see the weariness of their spirituality? They are so far gone from anything joy-giving that even when faced with a miracle all they can do is go through their list of thirty-nine things that cannot be done on the Sabbath and check them off.

When we think we know exactly how God’s mercy does work or doesn’t work, and we persist in that belief in spite of evidence to the contrary, it makes a spirituality that is wearisome: weary resignation and weary condemnation.

But the point of this story is that God’s outpouring of mercy works in surprising ways. The character who thought he knew exactly how God’s mercy did work was wrong. The characters who thought they knew exactly how God’s mercy didn’t work were wrong. Everyone in this story is caught by surprise.

Notice how Jesus ends this story:

My Father is working until now, and I am working. (Jn. 5:17 ESV)

God’s work of pouring out mercy in the house of mercy is constantly going on. Jesus’ work of participating in the outpouring of mercy is constantly going on.

The error of the sick man was that he thought he knew exactly how God did work–through the mystical stirring of this water. It was an error of imagination. He had been stuck so long in this rut of how God worked that he couldn’t imagine God working in any other way. But he was caught by surprise!

The error of the spiritual leaders was that they thought they knew exactly how God did not work. It was an error of imagination. They had been stuck so long in this rut of believing God could not work in ways that seemed to violate the Sabbath that they couldn’t imagine God working in any other way. But they too were caught by surprise!.

Jesus’ point at the end of the story is that he is always working. God is always working. Their work of mercy is so constant and so comprehensive we can never quite be sure we know exactly what it’s going to look like when we walk into the house of mercy. This mercy is poured out so abundantly we can never be quite sure where its limits are. The minute we say, “God works in this way,” we find out he actually works in other ways as well. The minute we say, “God doesn’t work in this way,” we find out he actually does. God’s outpouring of mercy works in surprising ways in the house of mercy.

And for some, this is immeasurably irritating, just as it was to the Jewish leaders. But here’s what it makes possible for us if we’ll let it: this enables us to live lives of wonder. Because God’s merciful work is always catching us by surprise, we can escape the weariness of a religion that is trapped in always knowing exactly when God’s going to show up and how God’s going to show up. And we can return to that wide-eyed wonder of children who are so young they don’t quite yet know how life works and they are always surprised when something new happens.

Author Mike Yaconelli once put it this way:

The most critical issue facing Christians is not abortion, pornography, the disintegration of the family, moral absolutes, MTV, drugs, racism, sexuality or school prayer. The critical issue today is dullness.We have lost our astonishment…The greatest enemy of Christianity may be people who say they believe in Jesus but who are no longer astonished and amazed. Jesus Christ came to rescue us from listlessness as well as lost news. He came to save us from flat souls as well as corrupted souls. He came to save us from dullness. [Michael Yaconelli Dangerous Wonder (Nav Press 2003), 24-25.]

This story in John 5 is intended to reignite amazement and wonder. To prompt us to always be on the lookout for where God may show up next or how God’s mercy may manifest itself next.

Jesus invites us to come and live where this sick man was living. Jesus invites us to come and live in Bethesda, the house of mercy. Because this house is a wondrous house. It’s a place where the unexpected becomes expected. It’s a place where God’s mercy gets worked into people’s lives in wondrous ways. Jesus wants to replace our weariness with wonder by inviting us to live in the house of mercy.

His story is reminding us that we don’t have to have a spirituality that produces weary resignation or weary condemnation. We have a spirituality intended to spark wonder. Because in this house of mercy there’s no telling what’s going to happen next.

This time of year really drives this home for me. Each year at about this time the staff and elders take stock of Highland. We do a check up on Highland’s health. The end of one year and the beginning of another year is a good time to do this.

And there was a time ten years years ago when that check up made this time of year the worst time of year. Because for several years during that decade, each annual check up brought negative results. Attendance was down-again. Giving was down-again. Ministry was limited-again. Morale plummeted-again. We were in the midst of a relocation and a leadership transition. Things got so bad that we lost 600 people. It felt like we were Israel wandering in the desert for thirty-eight years; an invalid of thirty-eight years still waiting for healing.

And plenty of people around us said they knew exactly how this would all turn out. They knew how God worked when a church like ours reached a point like that. The told us at best Highland would level out at some small number like 300. Or Highland would die. That’s just how things worked, you see.

But thankfully we live in the house of Bethesda. You can never quite be sure what’s going to happen in the house of mercy. Because in this house God’s mercy is poured out in surprising ways.

And so, this afternoon, as the staff and elders gather for Highland’s annual check up, we will again take great joy in the surprising work of God. We will celebrate that last year was our sixth consecutive year of growth in overall attendance. We will celebrate how the money given to the last Outreach Contribution was the most ever given at an Outreach Contribution in the 75 year history of this church. It’s a wonderful thing to live in the house of Bethesda.

Just think of all the surprises contained within this church building this morning. How many of you have a child or grandchild who was, in one way or another, a surprise! How many of you wound up in Memphis with no thought that you’d ever wind up in Memphis? Surprise! How many of you could have never planned the job or career that God has given to you? How many of you find yourselves enjoying a school you never imagined you’d be at? And just think of all the other surprises God’s filled this family with:

• I think of Highlander Betty Cannon who was a successful realtor until she took a trip overseas and – surprise! – she became a long-time missionary to Ukraine on Highland’s behalf!
• I think of Highlander Ron Wade who was a successful businessman until he decided to take a significant decrease in pay and increase in hours and lead a non-profit ministry changing lives every day. Surprise!
• I think of Highlander Kristen Shoulders who moved to Memphis to be a youth minister at Highland but found God had actually called her to be a youth minister in the public schools through Memphis Teacher Residency. Surprise!
• I think of Highlander Ken Wells, who, after ejecting from his aircraft and being captured by the North Vietnamese, spent 466 days as a prisoner of war. Who knew if we’d ever see him alive again? Surprise!

Highland is a microcosm of the larger house of mercy. God’s mercy is poured out in surprising ways. And it leads to lives of wonder!

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.^[5] While it is marked in a variety of different ways in this country, it is a day of great significance here in the MidSouth. It’s a day that reminds us that some of the greatest surprises of God take place around the issue of race.

A few years ago, a radio host interviewed Desmond Tutu in the woods of southern Michigan where he was on retreat just months before he announced his retirement from public life.^[6] It was one of his final interviews before retirement. And it in it he talked about God so much that the interview was called “A God of Surprises.”

Desmond Tutu was born in 1931. When the Dutch Colonial Afrikaner Nationalist Party came to power in South Africa a few years later, it decreed white supremacy in perpetuity, codifying the policy of apartheid. Comprehensive separation and brutalization of non-whites became the law of the land. Desmond Tutu grew up, like other black children, in a ghetto township under apartheid.

During the interview, he revealed how even he, a black child, adopted racist attitudes.  Once he was travelling to Nigeria. He got onto the plane and the two pilots in the cockpit were both black. The had a smooth takeoff and then they hit tremendous turbulence. And he said, “Do you know, I can’t believe it but the first thought that came to my mind was, ‘Hey, there’s no white men in that cockpit. Are those blacks going to be able to make it?’” And of course, they made it. But in that moment he realized that even he, a black man, had bought into the myths of apartheid. And as far as he and the rest of the nation could tell, that would never change.

But then he told of a time when, in his own words, “the god of surprises played his most extraordinary and incredible card.” He told of a man named  Beyers Naude. Naude was an Afrikaner, the group who believed in apartheid. But Naude changed his mind. He denounced apartheid and was cast out of the political party.  He joined up with others who were opposing apartheid. When freedom finally came in South Africa there was a road in Johannesburg that had been named D.F. Malan Highway. When apartheid became the law of the land, Malan was the first prime minister. This major road in Johannesburg was named after him. It stood as a permanent paved reminder of apartheid. But when freedom came, those in power decided to rename that road. It went from being called the D.F. Malan Highway to the Beyers Naude Highway. The road that once symbolized tyranny and oppression now symbolized freedom and grace. And that road, Tutu said, was one of God’s greatest surprises. No one could have ever guessed that road would change, because it would mean so much else had changed. But it did. Because that’s the kind of God we have. That’s what life is like in the house of mercy.

What do we do with that? Let me suggest three things:

Now What?

1) Consider registering to participate in a class about race and mercy led by Eric Gentry – details are in the Link;

2) Choose one way to act with surprising mercy toward someone specific this week;

3) Identify one way God’s mercy worked in a surprising way in your life last year, and give thanks for it.

Let’s close by praying this prayer together: Father, sometimes my religion gets routine. Let your work in my life and in this world move me from weariness to wonder. Lead me to act toward others with the same unanticipated mercy with which you have acted toward me.