Its a hot summer day in Jerusalem. Near the Sheep Gate, we all stood, waiting, and hoping for the pool to be stirred. It was rumored that this pool, when stirred could heal a man. Heal him of leprosy, blindness, or even make the crippled walk. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had heard this from many close friends so I know that its true. There were hundreds of folks here waiting, folks with every possible illness you could imagine. There was a musty smell, the smell of sickness and death on the air. I couldn't help but look around and feel the sorrow of these people. I mourn for their sickness; for their desperate need of healing.
Then I wonder...Why am I here? And more importantly, why do I mourn for these people, and yet am comfortable in my own illnesses? And what am I really suffering from anyways? Am I fully aware of these problems, or am I so far gone that I don't even realize I have them? In fearful realization, I am just one of the rest of these broken and sick people, hoping to be the first in the pool when the waters spin.
A strange Nazarene arrives at the pool. Why is he here? He doesn't look like the rest of us. Then he has the nerve to ask the man to left, "Do you want to get well?" Umm...what do you think, dummy? Then something happened I'd never seen before, this man got up and walked. He had been here for many days, as long as I'd been here, and hadn't moved from his mat. Now at the command of this strange fellow, he walked.
I wonder if this man can help me? Are my chances better with him, or waiting for the pool? His question doesn't sound so dumb now. Do I really want to get well? Am I willing to chase down this crazy Nazarene and take the risk on him? Or am I comfortable enough with who I am in this broken and ill state to wait on the pool? I guess it depends on what day you ask me.
