When Jesus saw him lying there… he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” — John 5:6.
In the Gospel of John, we find a man who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years, lying by the pool of Bethesda. When Jesus approaches him, the question he asks seems almost redundant, if not insensitive: “Do you want to be made well?”On the surface, the answer is a foregone conclusion. Who wouldn’t want to walk? Who wouldn’t want their suffering to end? But as we look deeper—and as we navigate our own modern “pools of Bethesda” in hospitals and clinics—we realize that “wellness” is rarely a simple switch. It is a transition, and every transition has a price.
There is a striking parallel between Jesus’ question and the modern medical process. We often approach a doctor asking for a “cure,” envisioning only the end result: the strength, the relief, the return to “normal.”
However, as anyone who has faced a major diagnosis knows, the road to being “well” often begins with being made “worse.” It is the surgeon’s knife that must cut before the body can heal. It is the grueling repetition of physical therapy that restores. It is the toxicity of chemotherapy that targets the malignancy. Etc.
When Jesus asks, “Do you want to be made well?” he is asking if we are prepared for the upheaval as much as the cure. For the man at the pool, being well meant he could no longer rely on the charity of others; it meant he had to find work, take up his bed, and re-enter a society. It was a call to responsibility as much as it was a gift of restoration.
The difficulty of saying “yes” becomes even clearer when we look at the Rich Young Ruler. He came to Jesus seeking the ultimate wellness—eternal life. But when Jesus laid out the “treatment plan”—selling his possessions and giving to the poor—the man walked away in grief. His physical heart was beating fine, but his spiritual heart was hardened by his wealth. He wanted the result (life) but rejected the procedure (detachment). This suggests that true wellness isn’t just the removal of a symptom; it is the fundamental restructuring.
If we were to answer Jesus’ question today, we must look past our physical ailments and into the habits, grudges, and comforts we use as crutches.
To be “well” might mean, cutting out a long-held resentment that has become part of our identity, the daily, often painful work of changing how we speak to others or how we spend our time, or accepting a period of quiet and isolation to allow God to work on our inner life without the distractions of the world.
If Jesus stood before you today and asked, “Do you want to be made well?”—knowing that “well” might mean losing your current comforts, changing your career, or ending a toxic but familiar relationship—what would your answer be?
It is a question that requires us to count the cost. To say “yes” is to step out of the shadows of the porch and into the light of a life that, while perhaps more demanding, is truly alive.
Wow. Powerful. You’re on a roll. Thanking you for the abundance of fodder to chew on all day (and beyond).
Thanks so much for reading the Pew and your comments. They provide fodder for the next and other writings. W.