Jesus said to them, “I did one miracle, and you are all amazed.”
John 7:21
This week, we looked at the miracle of Jesus healing a man at the pool of Bethesda who had been paralyzed for 38 years. This man didn’t ask for Jesus’ help. He didn’t exercise any faith whatsoever. He wasn’t like the leper who told Jesus, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” He wasn’t like the centurion who understood the dynamics of authority and petitioned Jesus as a military officer holding sway over sickness. He wasn’t like the woman who touched Jesus, risking everything to break through the crowd if only she could make the slightest contact with the Healer. No, this man not only didn’t demonstrate any faith, but he didn’t even bother to get to know Jesus after the miracle took place. He simply received his healing, rolled up his mat as directed, and walked off into the sunset. The only problem was that the sunset he was walking off into was a Sabbath.
Am I the only one who imagines Jesus glancing at the camera with a knowing smile and possibly a wink at this point? Consider the way the first section of the scene ends in John 5. Verses 8 and 9 say, “Then Jesus said to him, ‘Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.’ At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked. The day on which this took place was a Sabbath.” Can you picture Jesus breaking the fourth wall and letting us know He knows exactly what He’s up to? There were tons of people there that day. There were seemingly endless problematic stories to solve and broken people to heal. Not everyone would have been as well-known as a man who had been an invalid for 38 years. Not everyone there came equipped with their own props. Jesus told this man to pick up his mat and walk. That mat was a symbol of the fact that he was stuck. The mat was an emblem of his helplessness. Jesus’ command to carry it away was a profound statement about complete healing and a brand-new pattern of life, but it was more than that. That one little instruction to carry away the mat was the match that lit the fuse that ignited the bomb that changed everything forever. That man carrying that mat that day cost Jesus His life.
The religious leaders at the pool somehow managed to ignore the outrageously amazing fact that a well-known, broken beggar was healthy, whole, and fit as a fiddle. It never occurred to them that the appropriate response to seeing this man healed was to praise God. No, they narrowed their gaze to his cargo and called him out as a lawbreaker. “It’s the Sabbath. The law forbids you to carry your mat.” Seriously? This outrageous hypocrisy was like giving a parking ticket to a wheelchair user who got miraculously healed and left their chair in the handicapped space. We should be partying, not prying! They could have been celebrating, but they were too busy scowling.
John says it was because of this act on this day that the religious leaders began to persecute Jesus. They found Him, cornered Him, and questioned Him. He told them that there is no Sabbath rest for God while any one of His kids anywhere is hurting. He said His Father is always working, and He is working as well. And that, as they say, is all she wrote. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Not only had Jesus encouraged what they considered lawbreaking on the Sabbath, but He had the cheek to call God His Father, making Himself equal with God. This act of mercy and these words of explanation became His death sentence. John says, “They tried all the more to kill Him.” As G. Campbell Morgan said of this moment, “They never forgave Him.”
I don’t know about you, but this leaves me with a huge question: Why this guy? Why this day? Why not anyone else at the pool? Why not heal on a Tuesday or a Thursday? All of the controversy could have been so easily avoided. All of the persecution could have been sidestepped with a couple of slight edits in the strategy of the Savior. The answer, of course, is the reason I always imagine a little nod and wink toward the camera from Jesus in this scene. Every last detail of this story was intentional. Jesus was pushing His opponents toward action. He was lighting the powder keg on purpose. Jesus didn’t come here just to work wonders. He wasn’t simply on a mission of compassionate healing. Jesus came here to die. He was on a mission to lay down His life to pay for yours and mine. It was the only way to offer us forgiveness. It was our only hope for Heaven. The prophets foretold His rejection and accusation. The Scriptures spelled out the clear path of pain and suffering. This action on this day was the catalyst to the cross. Oh, that I could hear the resolve in His voice when He gave the order that sealed His fate. What did He sound like when He told this man to pick up his mat and walk? Jesus knew He was signing His own death warrant. It’s why He came. He not only faced the end, He did it with bold decision and merciful kindness to a man who needed His help. Wow.