Do You Want to Get Well?

Near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem, there is a pool called Bethesda. It is surrounded by five colonnades, under which lay a great multitude of lives forgotten by the world. John chapter 5 paints an incredibly eerie and tense picture for us: countless blind, lame, and paralyzed people waiting day after day for a legendary moment when "the waters would be stirred." Scripture tells us that an angel would occasionally go down and stir the water, and the first person into the pool after each such disturbance would be cured of whatever disease they had. When we observe this scene closely, we realize it is more than just a legend of a miracle; it is a profound metaphor for an "absurd system." It was a cruel and unjust arrangement: those in greatest need of healing—the most severely ill and the slowest to move—were the ones least likely to ever be "first." Yet, what is most staggering is not the injustice of the system itself, but the fact that among the hundreds of people by the pool, not a single person complained, questioned, or rebelled. Everyone seemed to naturally accept this "way of playing the game."

This is a true reflection of human nature—we are creatures who easily become accustomed to systems and cultures. When a logic exists long enough, and when everyone around us adopts the same mode of survival, what is "abnormal" gradually becomes "normal" in our eyes. Take, for example, the centuries-long tradition of foot-binding in Chinese history. The social system told women that only by distorting their limbs and enduring the pain of crushed bones could they exchange agony for dignity and marriage. Despite its cruelty, few complained at the time; even the victims became so accustomed to it that they would turn around and urge the next generation to endure the same. Similarly, whether it was the historical practice of concubinage or ingrained gender inequality, once a mistake becomes a cultural habit, people no longer perceive its absurdity. By the pool of Bethesda, these patients were also "accustomed." They were used to this "winner-takes-all" false hope, used to the disappointment of competition, and used to the very state of being paralyzed. Sometimes, the question of whether the problem lies with the system itself or with those who dare to question it is complex, because systems tend to prune away "different" voices, leading people into a collective numbness.

In the midst of this numbness, Jesus walked into Bethesda. Out of the crowd, He fixed His gaze on a man who had been ill for thirty-eight years. Thirty-eight years—a weight so heavy it could see an infant grow into middle age, or turn a spirited youth into a cynical old man. Jesus saw him lying there and, knowing he had been in that condition for a long time, asked a question that seemed redundant, perhaps even mocking: "Do you want to get well?" This is a question we may spend our whole lives answering. To someone who has been sick for thirty-eight years and waits by the pool every day, isn't the answer obvious? But Jesus’ question was never a social pleasantry; it was a surgical knife aimed directly at the soul. Jesus was not asking about his physical condition, but about his "will." Because when people are ill for too long, they often develop a condition more terrifying than physical paralysis: "spiritual adaptation."

To apply this to our lives: many people in the workplace fall into a state of "learned helplessness." Employees complain daily about unfair systems, incompetent bosses, and a lack of promotion. But if you ask them, "Do you want to change jobs?" or "Do you want to try and change the status quo?" they will often give you a hundred reasons why they "cannot." They have become addicted to the temporary relief of complaining and have grown comfortable playing the role of the victim within the system. When Jesus asked, "Do you want to get well?" the paralytic did not answer, "Yes, Lord." Instead, he launched into a long-winded complaint about his environment: "Sir, 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." This response revealed the deep-seated sickness of his soul: he was blaming his environment, resenting those faster than him, and accusing the system of failing to accommodate his weakness. He had been a "victim" for so long that he had forgotten how to "desire"; he only remembered how to "feel wronged."

This is exactly the predicament of modern people. We often say we want to change—to escape a powerless life, to break free from toxic habits, rotten relationships, or soul-shrinking jobs. But when the opportunity appears, our first instinct is to offer excuses. It’s like a chronic alcoholic who, when asked if he wants to quit, complains about the stress of life, the demands of social drinking, or an unsupportive spouse—mentioning everything except "I will quit." Or someone who says they want to learn English but claims they have no time, yet finds plenty of time to complain, gossip, or scroll through social media, being "too busy" to ever open a book. Does such a person truly want to learn? Do they truly want to get well? Like the paralytic, our hearts may have died in the blow we received thirty-eight years ago. We have become accustomed to our "unhealthy selves" because being unwell allows us to be avoid responsibility and entitles us to sympathy. Thus, Jesus’ question is a challenge: Are you willing to give up your excuses? Are you willing to take responsibility for your life instead of pointing fingers? Are you willing to admit that the true cause of your condition is not the external system, but your inner compromise with "abnormality"?

The origin of sickness is often related to sin. As Jesus later warned in John 5:14, "See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you." Sin, in its essence, is a "loss of focus on God." When we carelessly accept worldly customs or become numb in habitual sin, our souls become paralyzed. This paralysis is more dangerous than cancer because it robs us of the ability to perceive goodness or the strength to do what is right. We look for many "false doctors," trying to treat the symptoms with success, status, or money, yet we refuse to seek the True Physician, Jesus, who treats the root. Because the True Physician’s treatment is painful—He demands that you "get up" and leave behind that mat of thirty-eight years that has become your "safe zone." Jesus said to the man, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." This was a word of creative power. It completely ignored the absurd system of Bethesda; it didn't need the water to move or a helper to assist. However, the miracle depended on the "action" taken in response to that word.

In the realm of faith, pure discourse, theological debate, or emotional venting is meaningless if it does not lead to substantive action. It is like a drowning person who doesn't need a lecture on the "physics of buoyancy"; they just need to reach out and grab the lifebuoy. There is an interesting detail in the text: when the legalists saw the man walking, they didn't ask about the miracle. They asked, "Who is the fellow who told you to pick up your mat and walk?" They weren't amazed; they were questioning who dared to mess up the established religious "game." Action is necessary—it is the only channel through which healing occurs. If Columbus had only stayed on the shore studying maps, he would never have discovered the New World. If the paralytic had only thanked Jesus verbally but remained on the ground, he would never have experienced healing. The moment he decided to move muscles that had felt nothing for thirty-eight years and picked up his mat, he truly became free from the "failure" label the system had placed on him.

The story of Bethesda is a story about "Success" versus "Response." Modern people chase success as the paralytic chased the pool, trying to beat others within a utilitarian system. Students under academic pressure or white-collar workers chasing KPIs often think that "beating others" is what it means to be "well." But Jesus cares more about whether you are willing to "pick up your mat" when His word reaches you. The Christian life should not be mired in a victim mentality but should be a response to a calling. Worldly systems may be strange or distorted—and political science tells us there is no perfect system—but we cannot use that as an excuse for spiritual paralysis. If we only analyze social problems without the action of "getting up and walking," our faith is empty talk. Healing requires courage: the courage to face those who are unsettled by your change, and the courage to face a new life where you can no longer survive on the sympathy of others.

Many Christians have been in the church for decades and have grown accustomed to "spiritual paralysis," hiding behind the identity of a "critic" because it feels safe. But I firmly believe that all change begins with the first step. This year, I helped start a Chinese-speaking small group at my church. Although I am very busy and didn't initially have much interest in leading a group, I felt moved by God when I saw new families arriving with no one to welcome them, and some leaving after just a few visits. I felt God saying: "Since you have the ability, go and help." To my surprise, the response was wonderful, and we have begun to have deep spiritual fellowship. Furthermore, seeing the aging of the youth ministry, God moved me to step down from my usual role on the worship team to teach a youth band. At first, no one showed up, but I persisted. Five months later, more and more youths are joining—some believers, some not—and some are already serving in the main Sunday service. Looking back, I realize that without that first step, there is no change to speak of.

Dear brothers and sisters, stop waiting for the water to be stirred. Stop waiting for someone to push you in. Jesus, the Creator of heaven and earth, is standing right in front of you. He sees through your story, He empathizes with your weakness, and He is issuing a powerful invitation. Please make a decision in your heart right now: lay down your excuses, stop your complaining, and receive this creative word. Because only when you decide to "get up" will your thirty-eight-year tragedy end. Only when you begin to walk will you truly possess the flourishing life that the Lord has promised.

Do you want to get well? May we all respond to our loving True Physician with action, not just with words.

Finally, the content above is what I recently shared as a sermon at a local church. I am placing it here at our camp as a challenge to you: Do you want this summer to be different? Are you willing to become one of our camp leaders? Are you willing to participate in our camps? Are you willing to invite more unchurched friends to join us? May the Lord bless you!