Excuses, excuses

As I thought about the little bit of John’s gospel I read today [John 5:1-16], I concluded that it’s a call for a tough challenge this Lent—in fact, for every day of the year.

I can picture the man in this gospel, languishing in the porticoes around the healing pools of Bethesda.  For 38 years he’s been an invalid.  Because Jesus "knew that he had been ill for a long time," He offers him healing by asking a pointed question: "Do you want to be well?"

As I read the man's response, I wondered if the man really wants to be healed.  Perhaps he’s thought of himself as an invalid for so many years that he isn't sure how to answer.  Instead of a "yes" or "no," the guy has an excuse: “No one will help me.”

Jesus doesn’t even acknowledge the excuse.  Instead, He offers an abrupt challenge: "Rise, take up your mat, and walk."

 Wow.  Jesus just tells the guy to stop messing around, stop looking for excuses, start walking.  What happens?  The guy's off for a stroll, his first in 38 years, because Jesus said do it.

It boils down to an emphasis on the word “want”.  "Do you want to be well?"

If Jesus knows where my heart is (He does), where my desire is (He does), then He also knows my capabilities.  He must grow weary of excuses.

"Do you want to be closer to Jesus?  Do you want time with Him?"

I am so busy . . .

"Do you want to care about others?"

I have to take care of myself . . .

"Do you want to feed and clothe the poor, defend the widow, protect the child?"

I'm only one person, and I have this job and my family . . .

There’s no end to my list of reasons why I can’t get off my backside and start walking the Gospel talk right this very minute.  And, Jesus knows, there’s no good reason why I can’t start walking, right now.