"Do you want to get well?"

A few months ago, I had a conversation with a friend who has had a specific physical disability since birth. At one point in the conversation, my friend asked our friend, "would you ever consider asking for healing prayer, with regard to that specific physical disability?" Our friend's response has stuck with me since that time. They replied,

"Honestly, no, because I'm scared of having to re-learn how to live. I don't want to have to re-learn how to do everything that I've learned how to do with limited capacity. I am comfortable with my current means of navigating life."

It was striking to me, because it wasn't a fear that nothing would happen. Rather, it was a fear of what would happen if healing were to occur. It was a fear of wholeness, because it would require re-programming, re-learning, adjusting, not a fear of being let down. And I have to admit, I was very tempted to be judgmental. Why wouldn't you want to be made well, even if it required a new operating system?!

The book of John tells a story of a paralytic, that strikes a very similar chord:

Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for a feast of the Jews. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?" [john 5:1-6]

And here as well, I've always wondered... why would Jesus ask this question? Isn't it a given that you would want to be healed? But as I've sat with this question a bit more, specifically considering it in my own context, I think I've begun to see it on a slightly deeper level.

Let me be transparent. I had a conversation with my supervisors this past week, in which they challenged me to deal with some personal issues, relating to performance-based identity and fear of failure, during this coming semester. At one point in time, I made the comment,

"I just don't have a lot of hope to change in this because this has been my operating system for as long as I can remember. I know it's not ideal, but I've learned how to function and even thrive in this. It's been present for so long that I cannot imagine anything else. I don't know that I want to dig in here."

In a nutshell, "I'm pretty content with my method of dealing with things. It's working okay- not ideal- but okay. So, let's not deal with this right now."

In other words, I too answer "no, actually, I'm okay." Thanks, but no thanks. Go heal someone else.

But Jesus is persistent. He is not content with our mediocre solutions. He did not come to bring "moderately surviving" but sight for the blind and freedom for the captives. He said to the paralytic, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk!" [john 5:8]

It must have been terrifying for the paralyzed man to get up and walk. No, really. I bet it was terrifying. And I bet it required a lot of life-style adjustments. Like, oh say, leaving the pool area. Getting a job. Buying shoes. Not being able to excuse things based on his inability to walk. I'm sure it was terrifying.

But I bet it was also one of the most amazing things that he'd ever experienced. Freedom. Walking on his own. Running. Leaping. Tripping, and then being able to get himself back up again. Being able to ride a camel without being specially belted on. Being able to kneel to pray.

And so the question returns to us: Kristen, do you want to get well? Dear reader, do you want to get well? Will you allow Jesus to press into those areas of brokenness, to call you to new things, to re-program your operating system, to bring life back to the ruins, and rebuild the places long devastated?

Terrifying, yes. What we need and long for, yes.