Emmanuel Baptist Church of Nipawin Sermons

I don’t know about you, but I love storms. A good, prairie thunderstorm, in the month of July, when the air has been thick and humid all day, and at some point in the afternoon you notice the dark clouds piling up on the horizon like ominous visitors. You hear a distant rumble and maybe see a flash or two in the distance.

And then it all goes quiet. The birds stop singing, and the air goes still.

And then the storm unleashes its fury on you. Sheets of rain, branch-breaking winds, window-shaking thunder. I just love the raw power on display.

Storms can also be scary though, right? I’ve been really close when lighting touched down, and it was absolutely terrifying. And I know that some people feel that terror whenever they hear thunder. They just don’t like storms. Or perhaps you farm, and your livelihood depends on what’s growing in the field. In that case, you’re probably not as enthusiastic about prairie thunderstorms as I am—especially when hail gets involved.

But I’ll admit, my love for storms leads me to be drawn to Psalm 29. Because Psalm 29 is a Psalm about a storm. A big, powerful, massive storm. 

We hear the first rumblings of the storm in verse 3—“The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over many waters” (Psalm 29:3). The perspective here is probably of someone looking out over the Mediterranean Sea, and there’s a storm thundering out there over the waters.

And that storm is headed for land. And it crashes into the coast just north of Israel in Lebanon, which we see in verse 5. “The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars; the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon” (Psalm 29:5). This isn’t just any storm, this is a tree-breaking storm.

And the ground itself shakes as the storm moves from Lebanon into northern Israel in verse 6. “Sirion” is another name for Mount Hermon, which was right in the north of Israel, and the mountain itself is skipping “like a young wild ox” (v. 6), which probably refers to the way the ground was shaking from thunder.

And then the storm rips right south through Israel, lighting up the sky with lightning, moving all the way to Kadesh in the south. “The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness; the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh” (Psalm 29:7–8).

Now, maybe you’re like me and you enjoy watching storms from the comfort of your water-proof home, but can you imagine what a storm like this must have felt like to the original audience of Psalm 29? People who didn’t have double-paned windows, people who lived in homes that could have sustained a lot of damage from a storm like this. People whose livelihood was almost entirely dependant upon agriculture and didn’t have insurance when a storm like this flattened their crops.

But there’s even more reasons why a storm like this would have been troublesome to God’s people. We know that Israel was surrounded by people who worshipped the Canaanite god Baal. And what we’ve discovered from recent years in archeology is that Baal was the weather god. They believed that Baal manifested his power in—you guessed it—thunderstorms.

And that’s really the background to Psalm 29 that we need to understand. In the religious environment that God’s people were surrounded by, the Canannites would have said the kinds of things that Psalm 29 says about Baal. 

They would have looked out over the sea and said that Baal was the one thundering over the many waters. That he was the one breaking the cedars, that his voice was flashing forth flames of fire. This storm would have been evidence to them perhaps of Baal’s displeasure, but certainly his power. This storm would have been one big reason to worship Baal.

And we know from reading the Old Testament how tempting and appealing this whole system of Baal worship was to Israel. Everyone around them was worshipping Baal and seemed to be doing great as a result, and we know that Israel was constantly being pulled and tugged in that direction.

Worshipping Baal was so appealing and seemed like such a good idea.

So put yourself in the shoes of a faithful Israelite. You’ve said no to temptation. You’ve chosen to follow Yahweh, the Lord, the God of Israel. You’re believing His promises.

But then you hear the thunder. You see the storm coming. And you remember everything you’ve heard about Baal. You think about your Israelite neighbours who have decided to play it safe by worshipping both Yahweh and Baal.

Do you think, maybe just think, that at that first flash of thunder there might be a flash of doubt in your mind? What if this Baal stuff is true? What it that really is him out there, riding on the storm? And what if he’s mad at me, because I haven’t been worshipping him? What if he’s going to use this storm to wreck my house or flatten my crops?

The Voice of Yahweh

I hope you can see that in ancient Israel, a storm was a theological event. A time when the belief systems of Baal-worship and worship of the one true God would have come into sharp conflict.

And that’s why Psalm 29 was written. Because Psalm 29 takes up the theme of a storm and says no, that is not Baal up there. There is only one true God, and He is Israel’s God, and this storm is putting His power on display.

And instead of fearing Baal, this storm calls everyone—whether it’s the angels in verse 1 or the temple worshippers in verse 9—to worship Yahweh and ascribe glory to Him.

See, that’s why this Psalm uses God’s personal name so many times. Every time you see the word “Lord” with small caps, that’s showing you that it’s a translation of Yahweh, God’s personal name. And if you count, you’ll see that Psalm 29 uses God’s personal name eighteen times in its eleven verses. Just listen to the force of His name being used like that:

Ascribe to Yahweh, O heavenly beings,

      ascribe to Yahweh glory and strength.

Ascribe to Yahweh the glory due his name;

      worship Yahweh in the splendor of holiness.

The voice of Yahweh is over the waters;

      the God of glory thunders,

      Yahweh, over many waters.

The voice of Yahweh is powerful;

      the voice of Yahweh is full of majesty.

The voice of Yahweh breaks the cedars;

      Yahweh breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,

      and Sirion like a young wild ox.

The voice of Yahweh flashes forth flames of fire.

The voice of Yahweh shakes the wilderness;

      Yahweh shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

The voice of Yahweh makes the deer give birth

      and strips the forests bare,

      and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

Yahweh sits enthroned over the flood;

      Yahweh sits enthroned as king forever.

May Yahweh give strength to his people!

      May Yahweh bless his people with peace! (Psalm 29:1–11)

Every time we see the phrase “the Lord” In this Psalm we should hear, “Yahweh, and not Baal.”  That’s how Psalm 29 would have sounded to its original hearers. It’s reminding them again and again and again that the power of this storm belongs to Yahweh, the one true God, and not to the false god Baal.

Our False Gods

So this is basically the big idea of Psalm 29. The power of the thunderstorm reveals the power of Yahweh, not Baal, and therefore when we encounter a storm like this we should worship this one true God.

What about you and me? Odds are, we’ve never been tempted to attribute the power of a thunderstorm to a Canaanite deity. Because we know so much better today, right? We know all about weather systems and meteorology. When we see a storm like this, we don’t talk about Baal. We just talk about “the weather.” Or “the forces of nature.”

The ancient Canaanites found an explanation for the storm in the false god Baal. We find an explanation for the storm in the false god Science. And just so you know, I’m not against science. But when we divorce science from the God who makes science possible, we create a false god no better than Baal.

And I want to suggest that we need Psalm 29 just as much as the ancient Israelites did. We need to be reminded that behind the forces of nature is the power of the one, true, and living God. And when you watch those videos on the Weather Channel or look out your window during a storm, you are seeing His power on display, and you must give Him the glory for what you see. 

Fearing the Lord

But let’s press just a little bit further. Because I wonder if some of us might be uncomfortable with this. Uncomfortable with the idea of our God, the God we’ve been singing about this morning, being revealed in the fury of a destructive storm.

Don’t we tend to prefer descriptions of God which lean in the direction of soft and warm and gentle and comforting? 

The ancient Canaanites didn’t have that issue. They had no problem with the idea of a strong and powerful and mighty and even terrifying god who was present in the power of the thunderstorm. They just preferred to invent their own.

And when Yahweh, the one true God, revealed Himself to Israel, He revealed Himself to them as one who is more strong and more powerful and more mighty and yes, even more terrifying than any of the false gods that they had invented on their own.

That was the point of the Ten Plagues against Egypt. The Egyptians worshipped the sun and the Nile, and as God made the Nile turn to blood or the sun go dark, He was showing that He was more powerful than the false gods Egypt had worshipped.

In Deuteronomy 32:39 the Lord said to Israel, “See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.”

God is powerful. Frighteningly powerful. And I use that word “frightening” on purpose. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:7). And hear these words from the mouth of Jesus: “I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him!” (Luke 12:4–5).

So for us modern Canadians, who might not be so comfortable with this, it’s really important for us to hear the message of Psalm 29. To remember that the voice of the Lord is powerful and full of majesty, shaking the wilderness and breaking the trees of the forest, and to ascribe to Him the glory due His name.

I got a taste of this power of God up close and personal when I was on a canoe trip up north of LaRonge about sixteen years ago. We were three days into the bush with a bunch of kids from the inner city, and the strongest storm the area had experienced in thirty years came through. And at the front of the storm was what they called a plow wind. I had never heard the phrase “plow wind” before, but I didn’t have to ask why they called it that, because it just flattened trees as if a giant plow was driving through the forest.

There’s nothing more terrifying than being out in the woods and seeing your tent lying flat because the wind snapped the fibreglass poles in half, and you’re watching these towering pine trees come toppling down all around you. Where do you run, when running from one falling tree might land you right in the path of the next one?

It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. And when I read Psalm 29, I understand that what I was experiencing in that situation was the power of God. The terrifying, thundering, power of God.

And we need to remember that this is our God. That the God of glory thunders, and that His voice breaks the cedars and makes the wilderness shake.

I wonder how many of our struggles with sin and temptation would vaporize if we were to remember the awesome power of God and learn to tremble before Him.

I wonder how many of our struggles with obeying and submitting to the Bible would vaporize if we were to remember the power of the God who inspired it. Just think about Psalm 29 next to 2 Timothy 3:16. “All Scripture is breathed out by God…” This book is breathed out by the same mouth that breaks the cedars and shakes the wilderness.

Think about that the next time you hear something in the Bible that you don’t like or don’t want to obey. Are you really going to stand in front of the thunderstorm and argue with the God whose voice knocks the trees down?

Hear the call of Psalm 29. Tremble before the Lord. Tremble before His powerful voice and His majestic word.

“But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word” (Isaiah 66:2).

Fearing Nothing Else

Now there is a really important flip side to all this: if we are trembling before the Lord, then we’re not trembling before Baal. If we fear the Lord, then we’re not going to fear anything else, not even the storm itself, because we know who is behind the storm.

Just think about that. Yes, a powerful thunderstorm like this would be terrifying and would cause the people to shake in their boots. But just think about how comforting it would be for the people to recognize that it is Yahweh, not Baal, behind that storm.

That it is not some petty god who is coming to get me. Behind this storm is “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6).

And I would way rather have that Lord, and not a petty, grumpy Baal, coming after me. Because I know that while the Lord is not tame, He is good, as C.S. Lewis reminded us. He is merciful in His fury. And in the midst of the storm He knows who His children are.

That’s a really important idea that actually comes in to Psalm 29 in verse 10. “The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord sits enthroned as king forever” (Psalm 29:10). 

That word for “flood” is a Hebrew word that is only ever used to refer to the global flood in the book of Genesis—when the wicked were destroyed by the power of God, but when Noah and His family were saved by the mercy of God.

That is the God whose power is on display in the storm. The God who knows His people. The God who knows the difference between the righteous and the wicked. And the God who sovereignly oversees the path of each lightning bolt to accomplish exactly what He wants to accomplish.

I’ve seen this mercy of God in the midst of the storm. I told you the story of the plow wind on the canoe trip, flattening tents and knocking over trees.

That storm came in right after we had sent up camp for the night. We’d taken all of our supplies and food out of the canoes and set them out in an open area. We used big plastic totes and we had all of our stuff laid out in a straight line. And on top we set a cheap guitar we brought along, and then on top of the guitar was our first aid kit.

As soon as the storm was over we went to find our stuff, and we were assuming it was going to be scattered everywhere. And there we were, three days into the bush with all these 11- and 12-year old kids, and we were braced for the worst.

And what we found took our breath away. What must have been one of the very first trees to fall over had fallen in a perfect line directly on top of our gear. I can show you a picture on my phone later if you’d like. It was remarkable. 

And that tree held all of our food and supplies in place throughout the storm. We didn’t loose a thing. I thought that surely the guitar was going to be smashed to pieces from the weight of this tree, but it didn’t have a scratch. The first aid kit, right on top, had just a small crack in the lid. That’s it. 

God sits enthroned as king over the flood. He was directing every tree that fell. Sovereign over the storm. Watching over us in it. 

Not sparing us from every discomfort. My tent was still flat and my sleeping bag was soaked through, and I didn’t sleep a single wink that night.

But it was ok. I had such peace in my heart. Because I had seen the voice of the Lord strip the forest bare, and our hearts had cried “Glory!” and we knew that we were safe in His hands.

What Are Your Storms?

I know that I have a bit of a unique story here, a story about a literal storm and the mercy of God in the midst of it.

But on the other hand, I know that my story isn’t all that unique. Because each one of you has had all different kinds of storms in your life. Some of you are in the middle of a storm today. 

And we can be honest here this morning: when these storms began to gather, do we not tend to respond the way that many of the ancient Israelites might have responded when the literal storm began thundering over the sea and moving inland?

Don’t we so quickly think that God is absent, and we feel like we’re all alone in the face of a wild power, and maybe all of my friends who don’t trust in God and just try to take care of themselves are on to something?

I can think of some people I’ve known who got the call that the lump was cancer, or walked out of the prenatal appointment just weeks away from the delivery date with news that they can’t find a heartbeat, or got suddenly fired from their supposedly stable jobs, or had their spouse walk out on them.

And time and time again I see people panicking as if God did not exist.

And friends, Psalm 29 summons us to see that the Lord is the king of the storm. The very thing that causes you to ask “where is God?” is the very sign of His presence. The very thing that makes you wonder if God is in control is the thing which is demonstrating that He is in control.

When you believe this, it doesn’t mean that the storm is not a storm. But it does change everything when you know whose storm it is.

Once again, I think about my own story. It was the very year of that canoe trip when the storm of my mom’s cancer slammed into the shoreline of our life.

And over the next five years we found such comfort, over and over again, from knowing that this storm was God’s storm. He was sovereign over every cell in my mom’s body. He “works all things according to the counsel of His will” (Ephesians 1:11)—including cancer. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28) - including cancer.

And time and time again we experienced the mercy of God in the midst of the storm. He didn’t leave us alone in there to figure it out on our own. He was with us. 

And that’s why I love how Psalm 29 concludes. After this majestic view of a powerful God, the earth shaking, the forests breaking apart, the temple full of worshippers crying “glory!”, the king reigning over the flood, we hear these words in verse 11: 

“May the Lord give strength to his people! May the Lord bless his people with peace!” (Psalm 29:11).

This is a prayer for God to take care of His people. Not by removing every storm from them, but by supplying them with strength and peace in the storm.

So what’s your storm this morning? What are the dark clouds on the horizon making your knees knock, making you fear that God is absent and you’re all alone here?

Will you hear the words of Psalm 29 and its reminder that this storm is God’s storm? That He is king over the flood? That He is able to supply you with strength and peace?

“He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). 

We’re about to sing “It is Well With My Soul” together. Because we know who our God is, because we know about the bloody cross and the empty grave and the returning king, it can be well with our souls, whatever the storm is.

Let’s turn to Him as our source of strength and peace today.

I don’t know about you, but I love storms. A good, prairie thunderstorm, in the month of July, when the air has been thick and humid all day, and at some point in the afternoon you notice the dark clouds piling up on the horizon like ominous visitors. You hear a distant rumble and maybe see a flash or two in the distance.

And then it all goes quiet. The birds stop singing, and the air goes still.

And then the storm unleashes its fury on you. Sheets of rain, branch-breaking winds, window-shaking thunder. I just love the raw power on display.

Storms can also be scary though, right? I’ve been really close when lighting touched down, and it was absolutely terrifying. And I know that some people feel that terror whenever they hear thunder. They just don’t like storms. Or perhaps you farm, and your livelihood depends on what’s growing in the field. In that case, you’re probably not as enthusiastic about prairie thunderstorms as I am—especially when hail gets involved.

But I’ll admit, my love for storms leads me to be drawn to Psalm 29. Because Psalm 29 is a Psalm about a storm. A big, powerful, massive storm. 

We hear the first rumblings of the storm in verse 3—“The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over many waters” (Psalm 29:3). The perspective here is probably of someone looking out over the Mediterranean Sea, and there’s a storm thundering out there over the waters.

And that storm is headed for land. And it crashes into the coast just north of Israel in Lebanon, which we see in verse 5. “The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars; the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon” (Psalm 29:5). This isn’t just any storm, this is a tree-breaking storm.

And the ground itself shakes as the storm moves from Lebanon into northern Israel in verse 6. “Sirion” is another name for Mount Hermon, which was right in the north of Israel, and the mountain itself is skipping “like a young wild ox” (v. 6), which probably refers to the way the ground was shaking from thunder.

And then the storm rips right south through Israel, lighting up the sky with lightning, moving all the way to Kadesh in the south. “The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness; the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh” (Psalm 29:7–8).

Now, maybe you’re like me and you enjoy watching storms from the comfort of your water-proof home, but can you imagine what a storm like this must have felt like to the original audience of Psalm 29? People who didn’t have double-paned windows, people who lived in homes that could have sustained a lot of damage from a storm like this. People whose livelihood was almost entirely dependant upon agriculture and didn’t have insurance when a storm like this flattened their crops.

But there’s even more reasons why a storm like this would have been troublesome to God’s people. We know that Israel was surrounded by people who worshipped the Canaanite god Baal. And what we’ve discovered from recent years in archeology is that Baal was the weather god. They believed that Baal manifested his power in—you guessed it—thunderstorms.

And that’s really the background to Psalm 29 that we need to understand. In the religious environment that God’s people were surrounded by, the Canannites would have said the kinds of things that Psalm 29 says about Baal. 

They would have looked out over the sea and said that Baal was the one thundering over the many waters. That he was the one breaking the cedars, that his voice was flashing forth flames of fire. This storm would have been evidence to them perhaps of Baal’s displeasure, but certainly his power. This storm would have been one big reason to worship Baal.

And we know from reading the Old Testament how tempting and appealing this whole system of Baal worship was to Israel. Everyone around them was worshipping Baal and seemed to be doing great as a result, and we know that Israel was constantly being pulled and tugged in that direction.

Worshipping Baal was so appealing and seemed like such a good idea.

So put yourself in the shoes of a faithful Israelite. You’ve said no to temptation. You’ve chosen to follow Yahweh, the Lord, the God of Israel. You’re believing His promises.

But then you hear the thunder. You see the storm coming. And you remember everything you’ve heard about Baal. You think about your Israelite neighbours who have decided to play it safe by worshipping both Yahweh and Baal.

Do you think, maybe just think, that at that first flash of thunder there might be a flash of doubt in your mind? What if this Baal stuff is true? What it that really is him out there, riding on the storm? And what if he’s mad at me, because I haven’t been worshipping him? What if he’s going to use this storm to wreck my house or flatten my crops?

The Voice of Yahweh

I hope you can see that in ancient Israel, a storm was a theological event. A time when the belief systems of Baal-worship and worship of the one true God would have come into sharp conflict.

And that’s why Psalm 29 was written. Because Psalm 29 takes up the theme of a storm and says no, that is not Baal up there. There is only one true God, and He is Israel’s God, and this storm is putting His power on display.

And instead of fearing Baal, this storm calls everyone—whether it’s the angels in verse 1 or the temple worshippers in verse 9—to worship Yahweh and ascribe glory to Him.

See, that’s why this Psalm uses God’s personal name so many times. Every time you see the word “Lord” with small caps, that’s showing you that it’s a translation of Yahweh, God’s personal name. And if you count, you’ll see that Psalm 29 uses God’s personal name eighteen times in its eleven verses. Just listen to the force of His name being used like that:

Ascribe to Yahweh, O heavenly beings,

      ascribe to Yahweh glory and strength.

Ascribe to Yahweh the glory due his name;

      worship Yahweh in the splendor of holiness.

The voice of Yahweh is over the waters;

      the God of glory thunders,

      Yahweh, over many waters.

The voice of Yahweh is powerful;

      the voice of Yahweh is full of majesty.

The voice of Yahweh breaks the cedars;

      Yahweh breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,

      and Sirion like a young wild ox.

The voice of Yahweh flashes forth flames of fire.

The voice of Yahweh shakes the wilderness;

      Yahweh shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

The voice of Yahweh makes the deer give birth

      and strips the forests bare,

      and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

Yahweh sits enthroned over the flood;

      Yahweh sits enthroned as king forever.

May Yahweh give strength to his people!

      May Yahweh bless his people with peace! (Psalm 29:1–11)

Every time we see the phrase “the Lord” In this Psalm we should hear, “Yahweh, and not Baal.”  That’s how Psalm 29 would have sounded to its original hearers. It’s reminding them again and again and again that the power of this storm belongs to Yahweh, the one true God, and not to the false god Baal.

Our False Gods

So this is basically the big idea of Psalm 29. The power of the thunderstorm reveals the power of Yahweh, not Baal, and therefore when we encounter a storm like this we should worship this one true God.

What about you and me? Odds are, we’ve never been tempted to attribute the power of a thunderstorm to a Canaanite deity. Because we know so much better today, right? We know all about weather systems and meteorology. When we see a storm like this, we don’t talk about Baal. We just talk about “the weather.” Or “the forces of nature.”

The ancient Canaanites found an explanation for the storm in the false god Baal. We find an explanation for the storm in the false god Science. And just so you know, I’m not against science. But when we divorce science from the God who makes science possible, we create a false god no better than Baal.

And I want to suggest that we need Psalm 29 just as much as the ancient Israelites did. We need to be reminded that behind the forces of nature is the power of the one, true, and living God. And when you watch those videos on the Weather Channel or look out your window during a storm, you are seeing His power on display, and you must give Him the glory for what you see. 

Fearing the Lord

But let’s press just a little bit further. Because I wonder if some of us might be uncomfortable with this. Uncomfortable with the idea of our God, the God we’ve been singing about this morning, being revealed in the fury of a destructive storm.

Don’t we tend to prefer descriptions of God which lean in the direction of soft and warm and gentle and comforting? 

The ancient Canaanites didn’t have that issue. They had no problem with the idea of a strong and powerful and mighty and even terrifying god who was present in the power of the thunderstorm. They just preferred to invent their own.

And when Yahweh, the one true God, revealed Himself to Israel, He revealed Himself to them as one who is more strong and more powerful and more mighty and yes, even more terrifying than any of the false gods that they had invented on their own.

That was the point of the Ten Plagues against Egypt. The Egyptians worshipped the sun and the Nile, and as God made the Nile turn to blood or the sun go dark, He was showing that He was more powerful than the false gods Egypt had worshipped.

In Deuteronomy 32:39 the Lord said to Israel, “See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.”

God is powerful. Frighteningly powerful. And I use that word “frightening” on purpose. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:7). And hear these words from the mouth of Jesus: “I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him!” (Luke 12:4–5).

So for us modern Canadians, who might not be so comfortable with this, it’s really important for us to hear the message of Psalm 29. To remember that the voice of the Lord is powerful and full of majesty, shaking the wilderness and breaking the trees of the forest, and to ascribe to Him the glory due His name.

I got a taste of this power of God up close and personal when I was on a canoe trip up north of LaRonge about sixteen years ago. We were three days into the bush with a bunch of kids from the inner city, and the strongest storm the area had experienced in thirty years came through. And at the front of the storm was what they called a plow wind. I had never heard the phrase “plow wind” before, but I didn’t have to ask why they called it that, because it just flattened trees as if a giant plow was driving through the forest.

There’s nothing more terrifying than being out in the woods and seeing your tent lying flat because the wind snapped the fibreglass poles in half, and you’re watching these towering pine trees come toppling down all around you. Where do you run, when running from one falling tree might land you right in the path of the next one?

It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. And when I read Psalm 29, I understand that what I was experiencing in that situation was the power of God. The terrifying, thundering, power of God.

And we need to remember that this is our God. That the God of glory thunders, and that His voice breaks the cedars and makes the wilderness shake.

I wonder how many of our struggles with sin and temptation would vaporize if we were to remember the awesome power of God and learn to tremble before Him.

I wonder how many of our struggles with obeying and submitting to the Bible would vaporize if we were to remember the power of the God who inspired it. Just think about Psalm 29 next to 2 Timothy 3:16. “All Scripture is breathed out by God…” This book is breathed out by the same mouth that breaks the cedars and shakes the wilderness.

Think about that the next time you hear something in the Bible that you don’t like or don’t want to obey. Are you really going to stand in front of the thunderstorm and argue with the God whose voice knocks the trees down?

Hear the call of Psalm 29. Tremble before the Lord. Tremble before His powerful voice and His majestic word.

“But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word” (Isaiah 66:2).

Fearing Nothing Else

Now there is a really important flip side to all this: if we are trembling before the Lord, then we’re not trembling before Baal. If we fear the Lord, then we’re not going to fear anything else, not even the storm itself, because we know who is behind the storm.

Just think about that. Yes, a powerful thunderstorm like this would be terrifying and would cause the people to shake in their boots. But just think about how comforting it would be for the people to recognize that it is Yahweh, not Baal, behind that storm.

That it is not some petty god who is coming to get me. Behind this storm is “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6).

And I would way rather have that Lord, and not a petty, grumpy Baal, coming after me. Because I know that while the Lord is not tame, He is good, as C.S. Lewis reminded us. He is merciful in His fury. And in the midst of the storm He knows who His children are.

That’s a really important idea that actually comes in to Psalm 29 in verse 10. “The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord sits enthroned as king forever” (Psalm 29:10). 

That word for “flood” is a Hebrew word that is only ever used to refer to the global flood in the book of Genesis—when the wicked were destroyed by the power of God, but when Noah and His family were saved by the mercy of God.

That is the God whose power is on display in the storm. The God who knows His people. The God who knows the difference between the righteous and the wicked. And the God who sovereignly oversees the path of each lightning bolt to accomplish exactly what He wants to accomplish.

I’ve seen this mercy of God in the midst of the storm. I told you the story of the plow wind on the canoe trip, flattening tents and knocking over trees.

That storm came in right after we had sent up camp for the night. We’d taken all of our supplies and food out of the canoes and set them out in an open area. We used big plastic totes and we had all of our stuff laid out in a straight line. And on top we set a cheap guitar we brought along, and then on top of the guitar was our first aid kit.

As soon as the storm was over we went to find our stuff, and we were assuming it was going to be scattered everywhere. And there we were, three days into the bush with all these 11- and 12-year old kids, and we were braced for the worst.

And what we found took our breath away. What must have been one of the very first trees to fall over had fallen in a perfect line directly on top of our gear. I can show you a picture on my phone later if you’d like. It was remarkable. 

And that tree held all of our food and supplies in place throughout the storm. We didn’t loose a thing. I thought that surely the guitar was going to be smashed to pieces from the weight of this tree, but it didn’t have a scratch. The first aid kit, right on top, had just a small crack in the lid. That’s it. 

God sits enthroned as king over the flood. He was directing every tree that fell. Sovereign over the storm. Watching over us in it. 

Not sparing us from every discomfort. My tent was still flat and my sleeping bag was soaked through, and I didn’t sleep a single wink that night.

But it was ok. I had such peace in my heart. Because I had seen the voice of the Lord strip the forest bare, and our hearts had cried “Glory!” and we knew that we were safe in His hands.

What Are Your Storms?

I know that I have a bit of a unique story here, a story about a literal storm and the mercy of God in the midst of it.

But on the other hand, I know that my story isn’t all that unique. Because each one of you has had all different kinds of storms in your life. Some of you are in the middle of a storm today. 

And we can be honest here this morning: when these storms began to gather, do we not tend to respond the way that many of the ancient Israelites might have responded when the literal storm began thundering over the sea and moving inland?

Don’t we so quickly think that God is absent, and we feel like we’re all alone in the face of a wild power, and maybe all of my friends who don’t trust in God and just try to take care of themselves are on to something?

I can think of some people I’ve known who got the call that the lump was cancer, or walked out of the prenatal appointment just weeks away from the delivery date with news that they can’t find a heartbeat, or got suddenly fired from their supposedly stable jobs, or had their spouse walk out on them.

And time and time again I see people panicking as if God did not exist.

And friends, Psalm 29 summons us to see that the Lord is the king of the storm. The very thing that causes you to ask “where is God?” is the very sign of His presence. The very thing that makes you wonder if God is in control is the thing which is demonstrating that He is in control.

When you believe this, it doesn’t mean that the storm is not a storm. But it does change everything when you know whose storm it is.

Once again, I think about my own story. It was the very year of that canoe trip when the storm of my mom’s cancer slammed into the shoreline of our life.

And over the next five years we found such comfort, over and over again, from knowing that this storm was God’s storm. He was sovereign over every cell in my mom’s body. He “works all things according to the counsel of His will” (Ephesians 1:11)—including cancer. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28) - including cancer.

And time and time again we experienced the mercy of God in the midst of the storm. He didn’t leave us alone in there to figure it out on our own. He was with us. 

And that’s why I love how Psalm 29 concludes. After this majestic view of a powerful God, the earth shaking, the forests breaking apart, the temple full of worshippers crying “glory!”, the king reigning over the flood, we hear these words in verse 11: 

“May the Lord give strength to his people! May the Lord bless his people with peace!” (Psalm 29:11).

This is a prayer for God to take care of His people. Not by removing every storm from them, but by supplying them with strength and peace in the storm.

So what’s your storm this morning? What are the dark clouds on the horizon making your knees knock, making you fear that God is absent and you’re all alone here?

Will you hear the words of Psalm 29 and its reminder that this storm is God’s storm? That He is king over the flood? That He is able to supply you with strength and peace?

“He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). 

We’re about to sing “It is Well With My Soul” together. Because we know who our God is, because we know about the bloody cross and the empty grave and the returning king, it can be well with our souls, whatever the storm is.

Let’s turn to Him as our source of strength and peace today.

Our last installation in our series, Questions Jesus Asks, really tries to get at the heart of the theme title—We have surveyed a number of questions from Christ; what is it that Jesus wants to know? What is it that Jesus wants us to know and understand? This morning, I want to argue that the specific question Jesus asks, the one we see in Luke 8:40-56 (“Who was it that touched me”) paints a clear portrait for us, as the reader, about the kind of faith that Jesus wants to see in us. I think this can be a bit of a point of confusion, can’t it? I mean, if you’ve grown up in the church, or have a long-time exposure to the faith, you might find yourself asking, “ok, I’ve accepted Jesus, but what do I do about it?” Or maybe we find ourselves evaluating the claims of Jesus and we ourselves hesitate fully trusting in him or committing our lives in service to him. 

So as we embark on our last question, let’s turn to the Gospel of Luke and seek to uncover what is at the heart of Jesus’ question. And as we do this, let us pray that we will gain a broader understanding of what it is that Jesus desires from us, and how we might conform our lives to meeting that expectation.

“Most Excellent Theophilus”

In order to understand what Luke is attempting to do with his gospel we must take note of Luke’s very specific introduction; I invite you to just flip back to Luke chapter 1, verses 1-4, and we see that Luke has not only informed us to whom his gospel is written, but also, why it was written, take a look:

"Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught" (Luke 1:1-4).

There is much speculation as to whom Theophilus was; some suggest that he was simply a Roman official (hence deserving of the title), others, a Jewish priest whom Luke was instructing in the faith, and some, perhaps most interestingly, suggest it might have been Paul’s lawyer (as we note that at the end of Acts [28], Paul is in prison and awaiting trial), and Luke was providing what we might call the ancient equivalent of a legal briefing. We will return to this question at the conclusion of our time, but for our purposes now, I want us to briefly observe why it is that Luke is writing, look at verse 4: “4 that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.” So all of what follows in Luke’s account is so that Theophilus might have certainty about the things he has been taught, that he would have proof, evidence, reason, a clear idea about the truthfulness of his ideas about the messiah.

And so it is that when Luke wants to explain to Theophilus about what sort of faith he is to have in this messiah, he uses to three distinct examples to demonstrate to Theophilus the nature of what sort of faith it is that Christ requires. And Luke does this, beginning in chapter 8, verse 4. Let’s flip over there and take a look:

The Parable of the Sower

"And when a great crowd was gathering and people from town after town came to him, he said in a parable, 'A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell along the path and was trampled underfoot, and the birds of the air devoured it. And some fell on the rock, and as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up with it and choked it. And some fell into good soil and grew and yielded a hundredfold.' As he said these things, he called out, 'He who has ears to hear, let him hear'" (Luke 8:4-8).

This is one of the rare occasions where Jesus takes the time to explain his parable to his somewhat confused disciples (which, we must admit, we are often in the company of!). And so we see, in verse 9, we see the disciples ask for clarification, and we as readers benefit from their inquiry, take a look:

"And when his disciples asked him what this parable meant, he said, 'To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that "seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand." Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. The ones along the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. And the ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe for a while, and in time of testing fall away. And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience'" (Luke 8:9-15)

And so we see exactly what this parable is about. The disciples receive special revelation from the Son of God himself about the sort of “soil” that is necessary for the word of God to plant and successfully bear fruit. We see that the “seed” is the word of God. Now in this sense we do well to remember that Luke’s audience does not have “The Bible” as we in our modern churches do. The New Testament wouldn’t be canonized for some time. To be sure, the people have what we would call the Old Testament, but what Jesus refers to in his phrase, “the word of God” is his uniquely identified mission and message. It is the kingdom of God that Christ is proclaiming that is “the seed”. The seed is variously received, but where I want us to focus is verses 14 and 15.

"And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience" (Luke 8:14-15).

Jesus recognizes that there are pressures in life that seek to choke out the truthfulness and flourishing of the gospel. It will become especially important to pay attention to Luke’s use of the verb choked, here, as we shall see it come into play later. But notice too what it is that constitutes these thorns: the cares and riches and pleasures of life. Jesus is saying look, you can hear the gospel about the good news of the Kingdom and that can result in some life and a bit of growth. However, the myriad concerns and cares in our lives can actually extinguish that meagre seedling and prevent any living giving fruit from growing on it. And in this way, I think we can agree with what Jesus is saying for we too have felt the tendrils and thorns press into our commitment to Christ—the pain distracting us from him, or the pleasure of life’s passing joys dims our vision of the beauty of Christ. And the thing is, I think Luke knows this. I think Luke knows that we, like Theophilus, understand this tension between the cares of life and the care for Christ. And so it is, that Luke heightens his narrative by giving Theophilus a direct example of this very reality in the story of Jairus and the Woman with the Flow of Blood. So Luke wants to make Jesus’ teaching come alive, and he does this through the use of what we call an enacted parable. Let’s see what we’re talking about—jump over to Luke 8:40.

Jairus and His Daughter

Now there is a fair bit of text to deal with here, so I’m simply going to read through this story and then we’ll look at how this parable is an enactment of what Jesus was talking about in Luke 8:4:

Now when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. And there came a man named Jairus, who was a ruler of the synagogue. And falling at Jesus’ feet, he implored him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying.

As Jesus went, the people pressed around him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, “Who was it that touched me?” When all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.”  And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

While he was still speaking, someone from the ruler’s house came and said, “Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more.” But Jesus on hearing this answered him, “Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well.” And when he came to the house, he allowed no one to enter with him, except Peter and John and James, and the father and mother of the child. And all were weeping and mourning for her, but he said, “Do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, “Child, arise.” And her spirit returned, and she got up at once. And he directed that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed, but he charged them to tell no one what had happened. (Luke 8:40-56)

Ok, so, a lot here to deal with, so let’s just take this one piece at a time. We have two distinct characters involved in this story, and both have their fair shares of “cares” in the world; the first one we encounter is Jairus. Notice that Luke is quick to point out two distinctive features of Jairus, the first being that he is, vv.41, that Jairus is a ruler of the synagogue. In the gospels we tend not to have too favourable accounts of the Pharisees and the ruling class, but here Luke gives us our second noticeable trait, and that is that Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, doesn’t really approach Jesus as the rulers typically did. We see Jairus “falls at Jesus’ feet” which is to say that Jairus comes acknowledging his very real need, in humility.

We learn, quickly, that Jairus seeks Jesus’ healing hand over his 12-year-old daughter who is laying at home, on the brink of death. Jesus, no doubt from his endless stream of compassion responds and departs with Jairus, at which point we meet our second character, the woman with the flow of blood. Luke’s description of the woman is telling for a number of reasons, the first being that she has suffered from here affliction exactly the same amount of time that Jairus’ daughter has been alive—12 years. Not only that we can infer a number of other things about the cares of this woman—the issues that seem to press in upon her. First there is the issue of physical suffering. To be plagued by this malady for 12 years would be a significant physiological burden on this woman, no doubt creating significant obstacles. Not only that one might think of the psychological and social burden that such an illness would create. To suffer from a constant flow of blood would make this woman perpetually “unclean” according to temple law (Lev 15:19-33), and as a result, this woman would have been cut off from the religious life of her community. Should would have, like others who were ceremonially impure, have had to alert others to her condition, ensuring she wasn’t making them unclean by proxy, even if they weren’t aware of it. Added onto the physical and social burdens, we see that there is a financial one as well, when Luke notes, in vv. 43 that she has spent all her money on physicians trying to solve the problem. And so it is that we see that both candidates who reach out to Jesus are pressed, indeed, in the case of the woman, choked by the cares of this life, and it is from these two candidates that Jesus will elicit an expression of true and genuine faith.

The Woman’s Grasp

In what seems like a moment of desperation, we see in verse 44 that the woman grasps at what seems to be her only hope of survival. The crowds are pressing in on Jesus and the crowd is moving on. Her chances for healing are getting slimmer by the second. And besides, we can’t forget who Jesus is with; Jairus! If the woman is found out, she will almost certainly be punished by the synagogue ruler, but she chances it anyways and grabs at Jesus’ robe and is healed instantly. This prompts Jesus to stop, and turn around, asking who it is that touched him. Peter, along with us, is incredulous that Jesus could even ask a question such as this. There are a lot of crowds who are following Jesus, interested in what he’s going to do next. 

And if I could step out of the story for a minute, doesn’t this seem true to life? Jesus has a lot of admirers, doesn’t he? A lot of fans? A lot of folk want to suggest that Jesus—he was a pretty wise teacher, wasn’t he? Jesus? Wasn’t he the one who was gentle and compassionate to the sick? Lots a folks interested in the stories of Jesus, lots of fans, but as we can so clearly see today, not a whole lot of followers. And I think Jesus knows this too. The crowds are pressing in on Jesus and they’re distracting from his true mission—to seek and save the lost and to make disciples, not encourage followers who want to see bread and miracles. And here it is that our previous conversation about the verb choke comes into play. The word that we saw in Luke 8:14 is only used twice in Luke’s gospel. Once, obviously in 8:14, and here in 8:42, when it notes that the crowds pressed in (lit. choked) on Jesus. So what is Luke showing us? He is showing us how vibrant faith grows. Jesus has healed this woman, and he demands a response for the faith to be genuine; but the challenge here is the crowds that threaten the sapling of faith. The crowds that pronounce judgment, and that desire to keep flourishing faith at bay. Let’s take a look at what happens.

"But Jesus said, 'Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.' And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace'" (Luke 8:46-48).

Pay special attention to verse 47. Can you feel the trepidation from the woman? She has every reason to hide. All the cares of life are bearing down on her in that moment. Because notice, she is the woman with no name in this story. She is the woman who is unclean. She is the woman who is an outcast. How much easier would it have been to encounter Jesus and slink back into the crowd and save the mockery, the embarrassment, or worse, the persecution. 

Do you ever feel like that? That you have experienced health and healing from Jesus Christ, but when the eyes of the crowd are on you and the stakes are just ratcheted right up there it seems easier to just fade into the crowd that is just a fan of Jesus, but won’t own up to the healing? Lots of fans, but not a lot of followers. We see that the woman manifestly does not take this route. Verse 47, “and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed.” And friends, this is the kind of faith Jesus is looking for. For truly, this is the faith, according to Luke 8:15, that has landed “in the good soil” for this woman has heard the word, held it fast in an honest and good heart, and has borne fruit with patience. How much patience? 12 year’s worth.

The Response of Christ

Crucial to this exchange, and our own considerations of it, is Jesus Christ’s response. Because I think it’s worth asking, isn’t it? If this is the faith that Jesus desires to see, we have already acknowledged how costly it can be. Indeed, it has cost this woman absolutely everything to be identified in this way. And maybe we’re here this morning and we’re thinking of the same thing. That to manifest that faith that Jesus seeks is going to cost us in some very dear ways indeed.

Look then at Jesus’ response and receive your encouragement: “And he said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace'" (v. 48). Isn’t that just so beautiful? She has gone from outcast, unclean, oppressed, burden, and vaguely, woman to the designation and declaration of daughter. And here it is we see that Jesus pronounces her fully clean. Daughter you are well. And the beauty of this scene would be the pin-drop silent crowds and look who it is that is standing beside Jesus—it’s Jairus. It is as though Jesus is saying to Jairus, look, I have pronounced here clean and restored her to the family of faith. So Jesus’ pronouncement alleviates 12 years of suffering and exclusion, restoring wholeness and community to the life of the woman. 

Jairus' Daughter

The story, however, would not be complete if we did not address the very plot that initiated the passage—the plight of Jairus daughter. We see, tragically, that Jesus’ delay has resulted in Jairus daughter “falling asleep”. "While he was still speaking, someone from the ruler’s house came and said, 'Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more'" (v. 49). Of course, as the readers we know that all will be well, but notice what is going on here. Jesus is drawing out from Jairus the same kind of faith that was required from the woman, indeed, any that desire to follow after Christ. We even see Jesus exhort Jairus to patience, the hallmark of sincere faith, "But Jesus on hearing this answered him, 'Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well'" (v. 50). And so it is that Jesus travels to Jairus house. 

I don’t want to spend an inordinate amount of time here, except to note one or two things. We see that when Jesus arrives at the house, the crowds that vague and anonymous group that obscures Jesus responds negatively to Jesus’ pronouncements concerning Jairus’ daughter:

"And all were weeping and mourning for her, but he said, 'Do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping.' And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, 'Child, arise.' And her spirit returned, and she got up at once. And he directed that something should be given her to eat." (vv. 52-55).

In this passage we see that Jesus is not solely concerned with restoring the outcast and the marginalized, but the mighty and lost as well. For we see a direct parallel between the woman with the flow of blood and Jairus’ daughter. Look at what happens. After the crowd tells Jesus the daughter has passed on Jesus exhorts Jairus to deep faith. Believe, Jairus, and she will be well. This is in direct opposition to the crowds. Don’t be like them, Jairus, have the kind of faith that separates you from the crowds. The kind that might be thought of as embarrassing to people who know better. Do you see that? The crowds say she is dead and Jesus looks at Jairus and he says, believe in me and see your daughter again. Well what did Jairus do? How did he respond? Did he have the kind of faith that Jesus needs? Well I think that Jesus healed the woman with the flow of blood first in order to teach Jairus about the kind of faith he needed, and indeed, Jairus does respond to Jesus’ exhortation, for we see in in verse 55 that the spirit of the girl returned, and she arose, as if from a deep sleep. Now notice what Jesus commands the crowds right after this happens in verse 55—get her something to eat. Why is this important? Well, what is it that families do that is one of the clearest expressions of who is in the family? What is a sign of radical inclusion? It is eating together. Just as Jesus restores the woman to the family of faith, Jesus restores Jairus’ daughter to her family, symbolized by the breaking of bread together. 

Conclusion

As we seek to conclude this short series that we have embarked on, Questions Jesus Asks, we do well to meditate on the kind of faith that Jesus asks from us. And it is my prayer that in this consideration that we would come to recognize that Jesus doesn’t ask these questions for his own sake, as though he were a mere man, trying to gain information from us. But rather, as God incarnate, Jesus asks these questions so that we would come out from the crowd and identify ourselves as ones who have received the restoring touch of Christ, and are not afraid to own up to it. That we would be the disciples, the followers, who fight through the thorns of life, and cast away the cares and the pleasures for the greater glory of knowing the resurrected Christ. 

That whatever our circumstances are, whether the religious elite or the downtrodden and outcast, we would return to Jesus the kind of response he desires—we must come out from the crowds that press in upon Jesus and reach out and touch him for the healing that we so desperately need. And he will heal you. He will raise you up. He will restore you to his Family. Joyfully, fully and finally.

Our last installation in our series, Questions Jesus Asks, really tries to get at the heart of the theme title—We have surveyed a number of questions from Christ; what is it that Jesus wants to know? What is it that Jesus wants us to know and understand? This morning, I want to argue that the specific question Jesus asks, the one we see in Luke 8:40-56 (“Who was it that touched me”) paints a clear portrait for us, as the reader, about the kind of faith that Jesus wants to see in us. I think this can be a bit of a point of confusion, can’t it? I mean, if you’ve grown up in the church, or have a long-time exposure to the faith, you might find yourself asking, “ok, I’ve accepted Jesus, but what do I do about it?” Or maybe we find ourselves evaluating the claims of Jesus and we ourselves hesitate fully trusting in him or committing our lives in service to him. 

So as we embark on our last question, let’s turn to the Gospel of Luke and seek to uncover what is at the heart of Jesus’ question. And as we do this, let us pray that we will gain a broader understanding of what it is that Jesus desires from us, and how we might conform our lives to meeting that expectation.

“Most Excellent Theophilus”

In order to understand what Luke is attempting to do with his gospel we must take note of Luke’s very specific introduction; I invite you to just flip back to Luke chapter 1, verses 1-4, and we see that Luke has not only informed us to whom his gospel is written, but also, why it was written, take a look:

"Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught" (Luke 1:1-4).

There is much speculation as to whom Theophilus was; some suggest that he was simply a Roman official (hence deserving of the title), others, a Jewish priest whom Luke was instructing in the faith, and some, perhaps most interestingly, suggest it might have been Paul’s lawyer (as we note that at the end of Acts [28], Paul is in prison and awaiting trial), and Luke was providing what we might call the ancient equivalent of a legal briefing. We will return to this question at the conclusion of our time, but for our purposes now, I want us to briefly observe why it is that Luke is writing, look at verse 4: “4 that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.” So all of what follows in Luke’s account is so that Theophilus might have certainty about the things he has been taught, that he would have proof, evidence, reason, a clear idea about the truthfulness of his ideas about the messiah.

And so it is that when Luke wants to explain to Theophilus about what sort of faith he is to have in this messiah, he uses to three distinct examples to demonstrate to Theophilus the nature of what sort of faith it is that Christ requires. And Luke does this, beginning in chapter 8, verse 4. Let’s flip over there and take a look:

The Parable of the Sower

"And when a great crowd was gathering and people from town after town came to him, he said in a parable, 'A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell along the path and was trampled underfoot, and the birds of the air devoured it. And some fell on the rock, and as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up with it and choked it. And some fell into good soil and grew and yielded a hundredfold.' As he said these things, he called out, 'He who has ears to hear, let him hear'" (Luke 8:4-8).

This is one of the rare occasions where Jesus takes the time to explain his parable to his somewhat confused disciples (which, we must admit, we are often in the company of!). And so we see, in verse 9, we see the disciples ask for clarification, and we as readers benefit from their inquiry, take a look:

"And when his disciples asked him what this parable meant, he said, 'To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that "seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand." Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. The ones along the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. And the ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe for a while, and in time of testing fall away. And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience'" (Luke 8:9-15)

And so we see exactly what this parable is about. The disciples receive special revelation from the Son of God himself about the sort of “soil” that is necessary for the word of God to plant and successfully bear fruit. We see that the “seed” is the word of God. Now in this sense we do well to remember that Luke’s audience does not have “The Bible” as we in our modern churches do. The New Testament wouldn’t be canonized for some time. To be sure, the people have what we would call the Old Testament, but what Jesus refers to in his phrase, “the word of God” is his uniquely identified mission and message. It is the kingdom of God that Christ is proclaiming that is “the seed”. The seed is variously received, but where I want us to focus is verses 14 and 15.

"And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience" (Luke 8:14-15).

Jesus recognizes that there are pressures in life that seek to choke out the truthfulness and flourishing of the gospel. It will become especially important to pay attention to Luke’s use of the verb choked, here, as we shall see it come into play later. But notice too what it is that constitutes these thorns: the cares and riches and pleasures of life. Jesus is saying look, you can hear the gospel about the good news of the Kingdom and that can result in some life and a bit of growth. However, the myriad concerns and cares in our lives can actually extinguish that meagre seedling and prevent any living giving fruit from growing on it. And in this way, I think we can agree with what Jesus is saying for we too have felt the tendrils and thorns press into our commitment to Christ—the pain distracting us from him, or the pleasure of life’s passing joys dims our vision of the beauty of Christ. And the thing is, I think Luke knows this. I think Luke knows that we, like Theophilus, understand this tension between the cares of life and the care for Christ. And so it is, that Luke heightens his narrative by giving Theophilus a direct example of this very reality in the story of Jairus and the Woman with the Flow of Blood. So Luke wants to make Jesus’ teaching come alive, and he does this through the use of what we call an enacted parable. Let’s see what we’re talking about—jump over to Luke 8:40.

Jairus and His Daughter

Now there is a fair bit of text to deal with here, so I’m simply going to read through this story and then we’ll look at how this parable is an enactment of what Jesus was talking about in Luke 8:4:

Now when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. And there came a man named Jairus, who was a ruler of the synagogue. And falling at Jesus’ feet, he implored him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying.

As Jesus went, the people pressed around him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, “Who was it that touched me?” When all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.”  And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

While he was still speaking, someone from the ruler’s house came and said, “Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more.” But Jesus on hearing this answered him, “Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well.” And when he came to the house, he allowed no one to enter with him, except Peter and John and James, and the father and mother of the child. And all were weeping and mourning for her, but he said, “Do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, “Child, arise.” And her spirit returned, and she got up at once. And he directed that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed, but he charged them to tell no one what had happened. (Luke 8:40-56)

Ok, so, a lot here to deal with, so let’s just take this one piece at a time. We have two distinct characters involved in this story, and both have their fair shares of “cares” in the world; the first one we encounter is Jairus. Notice that Luke is quick to point out two distinctive features of Jairus, the first being that he is, vv.41, that Jairus is a ruler of the synagogue. In the gospels we tend not to have too favourable accounts of the Pharisees and the ruling class, but here Luke gives us our second noticeable trait, and that is that Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, doesn’t really approach Jesus as the rulers typically did. We see Jairus “falls at Jesus’ feet” which is to say that Jairus comes acknowledging his very real need, in humility.

We learn, quickly, that Jairus seeks Jesus’ healing hand over his 12-year-old daughter who is laying at home, on the brink of death. Jesus, no doubt from his endless stream of compassion responds and departs with Jairus, at which point we meet our second character, the woman with the flow of blood. Luke’s description of the woman is telling for a number of reasons, the first being that she has suffered from here affliction exactly the same amount of time that Jairus’ daughter has been alive—12 years. Not only that we can infer a number of other things about the cares of this woman—the issues that seem to press in upon her. First there is the issue of physical suffering. To be plagued by this malady for 12 years would be a significant physiological burden on this woman, no doubt creating significant obstacles. Not only that one might think of the psychological and social burden that such an illness would create. To suffer from a constant flow of blood would make this woman perpetually “unclean” according to temple law (Lev 15:19-33), and as a result, this woman would have been cut off from the religious life of her community. Should would have, like others who were ceremonially impure, have had to alert others to her condition, ensuring she wasn’t making them unclean by proxy, even if they weren’t aware of it. Added onto the physical and social burdens, we see that there is a financial one as well, when Luke notes, in vv. 43 that she has spent all her money on physicians trying to solve the problem. And so it is that we see that both candidates who reach out to Jesus are pressed, indeed, in the case of the woman, choked by the cares of this life, and it is from these two candidates that Jesus will elicit an expression of true and genuine faith.

The Woman’s Grasp

In what seems like a moment of desperation, we see in verse 44 that the woman grasps at what seems to be her only hope of survival. The crowds are pressing in on Jesus and the crowd is moving on. Her chances for healing are getting slimmer by the second. And besides, we can’t forget who Jesus is with; Jairus! If the woman is found out, she will almost certainly be punished by the synagogue ruler, but she chances it anyways and grabs at Jesus’ robe and is healed instantly. This prompts Jesus to stop, and turn around, asking who it is that touched him. Peter, along with us, is incredulous that Jesus could even ask a question such as this. There are a lot of crowds who are following Jesus, interested in what he’s going to do next. 

And if I could step out of the story for a minute, doesn’t this seem true to life? Jesus has a lot of admirers, doesn’t he? A lot of fans? A lot of folk want to suggest that Jesus—he was a pretty wise teacher, wasn’t he? Jesus? Wasn’t he the one who was gentle and compassionate to the sick? Lots a folks interested in the stories of Jesus, lots of fans, but as we can so clearly see today, not a whole lot of followers. And I think Jesus knows this too. The crowds are pressing in on Jesus and they’re distracting from his true mission—to seek and save the lost and to make disciples, not encourage followers who want to see bread and miracles. And here it is that our previous conversation about the verb choke comes into play. The word that we saw in Luke 8:14 is only used twice in Luke’s gospel. Once, obviously in 8:14, and here in 8:42, when it notes that the crowds pressed in (lit. choked) on Jesus. So what is Luke showing us? He is showing us how vibrant faith grows. Jesus has healed this woman, and he demands a response for the faith to be genuine; but the challenge here is the crowds that threaten the sapling of faith. The crowds that pronounce judgment, and that desire to keep flourishing faith at bay. Let’s take a look at what happens.

"But Jesus said, 'Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.' And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace'" (Luke 8:46-48).

Pay special attention to verse 47. Can you feel the trepidation from the woman? She has every reason to hide. All the cares of life are bearing down on her in that moment. Because notice, she is the woman with no name in this story. She is the woman who is unclean. She is the woman who is an outcast. How much easier would it have been to encounter Jesus and slink back into the crowd and save the mockery, the embarrassment, or worse, the persecution. 

Do you ever feel like that? That you have experienced health and healing from Jesus Christ, but when the eyes of the crowd are on you and the stakes are just ratcheted right up there it seems easier to just fade into the crowd that is just a fan of Jesus, but won’t own up to the healing? Lots of fans, but not a lot of followers. We see that the woman manifestly does not take this route. Verse 47, “and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed.” And friends, this is the kind of faith Jesus is looking for. For truly, this is the faith, according to Luke 8:15, that has landed “in the good soil” for this woman has heard the word, held it fast in an honest and good heart, and has borne fruit with patience. How much patience? 12 year’s worth.

The Response of Christ

Crucial to this exchange, and our own considerations of it, is Jesus Christ’s response. Because I think it’s worth asking, isn’t it? If this is the faith that Jesus desires to see, we have already acknowledged how costly it can be. Indeed, it has cost this woman absolutely everything to be identified in this way. And maybe we’re here this morning and we’re thinking of the same thing. That to manifest that faith that Jesus seeks is going to cost us in some very dear ways indeed.

Look then at Jesus’ response and receive your encouragement: “And he said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace'" (v. 48). Isn’t that just so beautiful? She has gone from outcast, unclean, oppressed, burden, and vaguely, woman to the designation and declaration of daughter. And here it is we see that Jesus pronounces her fully clean. Daughter you are well. And the beauty of this scene would be the pin-drop silent crowds and look who it is that is standing beside Jesus—it’s Jairus. It is as though Jesus is saying to Jairus, look, I have pronounced here clean and restored her to the family of faith. So Jesus’ pronouncement alleviates 12 years of suffering and exclusion, restoring wholeness and community to the life of the woman. 

Jairus' Daughter

The story, however, would not be complete if we did not address the very plot that initiated the passage—the plight of Jairus daughter. We see, tragically, that Jesus’ delay has resulted in Jairus daughter “falling asleep”. "While he was still speaking, someone from the ruler’s house came and said, 'Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more'" (v. 49). Of course, as the readers we know that all will be well, but notice what is going on here. Jesus is drawing out from Jairus the same kind of faith that was required from the woman, indeed, any that desire to follow after Christ. We even see Jesus exhort Jairus to patience, the hallmark of sincere faith, "But Jesus on hearing this answered him, 'Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well'" (v. 50). And so it is that Jesus travels to Jairus house. 

I don’t want to spend an inordinate amount of time here, except to note one or two things. We see that when Jesus arrives at the house, the crowds that vague and anonymous group that obscures Jesus responds negatively to Jesus’ pronouncements concerning Jairus’ daughter:

"And all were weeping and mourning for her, but he said, 'Do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping.' And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, 'Child, arise.' And her spirit returned, and she got up at once. And he directed that something should be given her to eat." (vv. 52-55).

In this passage we see that Jesus is not solely concerned with restoring the outcast and the marginalized, but the mighty and lost as well. For we see a direct parallel between the woman with the flow of blood and Jairus’ daughter. Look at what happens. After the crowd tells Jesus the daughter has passed on Jesus exhorts Jairus to deep faith. Believe, Jairus, and she will be well. This is in direct opposition to the crowds. Don’t be like them, Jairus, have the kind of faith that separates you from the crowds. The kind that might be thought of as embarrassing to people who know better. Do you see that? The crowds say she is dead and Jesus looks at Jairus and he says, believe in me and see your daughter again. Well what did Jairus do? How did he respond? Did he have the kind of faith that Jesus needs? Well I think that Jesus healed the woman with the flow of blood first in order to teach Jairus about the kind of faith he needed, and indeed, Jairus does respond to Jesus’ exhortation, for we see in in verse 55 that the spirit of the girl returned, and she arose, as if from a deep sleep. Now notice what Jesus commands the crowds right after this happens in verse 55—get her something to eat. Why is this important? Well, what is it that families do that is one of the clearest expressions of who is in the family? What is a sign of radical inclusion? It is eating together. Just as Jesus restores the woman to the family of faith, Jesus restores Jairus’ daughter to her family, symbolized by the breaking of bread together. 

Conclusion

As we seek to conclude this short series that we have embarked on, Questions Jesus Asks, we do well to meditate on the kind of faith that Jesus asks from us. And it is my prayer that in this consideration that we would come to recognize that Jesus doesn’t ask these questions for his own sake, as though he were a mere man, trying to gain information from us. But rather, as God incarnate, Jesus asks these questions so that we would come out from the crowd and identify ourselves as ones who have received the restoring touch of Christ, and are not afraid to own up to it. That we would be the disciples, the followers, who fight through the thorns of life, and cast away the cares and the pleasures for the greater glory of knowing the resurrected Christ. 

That whatever our circumstances are, whether the religious elite or the downtrodden and outcast, we would return to Jesus the kind of response he desires—we must come out from the crowds that press in upon Jesus and reach out and touch him for the healing that we so desperately need. And he will heal you. He will raise you up. He will restore you to his Family. Joyfully, fully and finally.

The challenge, in presenting a text like this, is to commit a classic seminary over-step. The temptation for many seminary students, myself included, is to attempt to pour forth absolutely everything they know, or the commentaries have told them, on a given topic. To explore every nook and cranny of the text, itself a noble aim, is to presume upon the good nature and valuable time of those gracious enough to extend their time to you. The impulse is a good one, so while this evening we are only able to zero in on Jesus’ question, found in verse 16, I encourage you to marinate in this text this weekend.

With that bit of preamble out of the way, I want to ask, why is talking about exorcisms and demons unpopular today? Or perhaps better put, why is it supremely popular, but only from a sensationalist standpoint (Hollywood)? Allow me to offer three conjectures:

It’s weird. We’re content positing there is a God, but let’s not get all bizarre with the whole demons thing. We have a hard-enough time getting people to acknowledge the spiritual realm.

It’s uncomfortable. We know that biblical writers just didn’t have an understanding of mental illness, so they thought people were possessed. We know better now, and these stories are embarrassing.

We don’t know what to think. Does this stuff still happen? If so, why? Could it happen to me? Maybe we should just ignore it and it will go away.

Whether I am successful in answering any of these questions, I will leave it

for you to judge. My intent however, is to unpack some insights from Jesus’ exorcism of a demon possessed child, and particularly, his question that he poses to the disciples immediately beforehand. The event is recorded in scripture and as a result, asks that we reckon with it.  Lastly, after we have journeyed through this text together, I would like to glean some of the insights and apply them to how we might consider Jesus’ words and his question for us as well. With that in mind, let’s pray.

“What on Earth Is Going on Here?” Text and Context

As a bit of an exegetical tip—when diving into a text, be it on your own, with a study group, or in church, always take a moment to read the surrounding texts—both before and after. Often, perhaps especially in the gospels, crucial details about why a story or teaching is located where it is are contained in the passages just before or after. While time restricts a full investigation of these surrounding texts, it is vital to note that just prior to this story is the account of the transfiguration of Christ. What is that? 

The transfiguration is the event wherein Jesus and his inner circle of disciples, Peter James and John, retreat from the larger group to the mount of transfiguration, wherein Christ is miraculously made glorious before them, brilliant in glory and appearing with Moses and Elijah. This is considered one of the five most significant acts of Jesus’ ministry and demonstrates his superiority to both the law and prophets, his unique relationship with God the Father, and also, his real presence as link between heaven and earth. So it’s this monumental, divine, glorious picture of the fullness of the deity of Christ. And it’s on a mountain. Can you see how this event is just jaw-droppingly majestic? Keep that image in your mind as we turn our attention to the text.

Intro Passage

Just a few verses earlier, we note the Jesus is descending the mountain with the inner circle, Peter James and John: "And as they were coming down the mountain, he charged them to tell no one what they had seen, until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead might mean. And they asked him, “Why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?'” (Mark 9:9-11). Where our passage picks up, we see that Christ has reunited with the rest of the disciples and they are caught up in a dispute with the Pharisees. Verse 14: “And when they came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. And he asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” (Mark 9:14-16).

One or two notes to highlight here, when the crowd meets Jesus, they are already greatly amazed by him. Why would that be? Jesus hasn’t done anything at this point necessarily to warrant amazement. Several commentators point out the Greek here for amaze could be closer to overwhelmed or overawed with Christ – and this is likely on account of his residual radiance from the transfiguration. It is clear, that Christ’s majesty has been imbued upon his very character and the crowds can tell this simply by beholding him. Do you begin to see the contrast that Mark has been pulling together here? We have Christ made glorious on the mountain-top just a passage before, and here he has now traversed into the valley where the demons lie waiting. It is not just a device in the story; it is a picture of Christ’s cosmic condescension, from glory into our plight, into our story. And it’s this transition, from mountain to valley that prompts Jesus’ question to the disciples—namely, what are you arguing about? And it is the action that follows that gives us a hint as to what argument the disciples are embroiled in. So indeed, in the immediate context, what is the story the Christ has entered into?

The Man and His Son

Mark presents the story of the demon possessed child in a literary fashion that we could accurately call, In Media Res – that is to say, “in the middle of things”. Were the reader to simply begin at Mark 9:13 they are immediately drawn into, not only the conflict between the Pharisees and the Disciples, but also, the life of a father and his drastically ill, neigh, even demonically influenced son. Let us slow down for a minute and consider the plight of the Father, and not only his plight, but that of the boy, as well. And our entry point for this analysis will be the Father’s own description, which you will notice, occurs in verse 17: 

“And someone from the crowd answered him, 'Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.' And he answered them, 'O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.' And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, 'How long has this been happening to him?' And he said, 'From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us'" (Mark 9:17-22).

The Father is clear – his Son has been afflicted by a demon that is thorough in it’s malicious intent – The demon is intent on destroying the boy. And this isn’t a recent development, this has been occurring from the boy’s childhood. One needn’t think hard to understand how drastically affected this family’s life has been. The Father almost certainly would have to be present with his son at all times, and if not him, a close member of the family to ensure that the Son was free from environmental danger. But which family member can you ask? Culturally, the family almost certainly would have been ostracized, in part because the father would almost never attend the synagogue for fear that his son would burn himself on the alter for offerings, but furthermore, because this kind of illness, and illness generally was perceived as a marker for the judgment of God. “Yes, that’s the man whose son is unclean” “yes, that’s the man whose family is unclean” “yes, that Family is under the judgment of God” and at the risk of sounding maudlin, how deeply painful must it be that your son, your flesh and blood is unable to relate to you in the most basic of terms, years of absent “I love yous” countless joys and memories robbed by illness and possession. The years waiting for words to form turn into a decade of deafening silence. It is overreaching, but it is perhaps noticeable that the mother is conspicuously absent in this story – not at all to cast aspersions on woman, but rather to acknowledge the undeniable strain such circumstances would place on a marriage.

And now, I want you to take our thought experiment and catch up with the story. You are the Father. You have sought Christ out. You heard that there is this Galilean, hanging out with a rag-tag group of disciples and there have been rumors of healings in his wake. The blind see, the lame are healed and sinners are pronounced forgiven. But they’re just rumors. You haven’t seen the healed. And besides, natural laws are natural laws – there is no room for the miraculous. But you’re at your wits end! You have nothing left and every day poses new threats for your son. So you seek him out and you see a crowd of his disciples at the foot of the mountain – Jesus must be there too! The disciples are certain they can help – and they get to work, praying over your son, anointing him, but nothing is working. Some nearby Pharisees come over to observe the commotion, along with some crowds. The Pharisees start calling out the disciples, reinforcing not only the perceived sinfulness of your family, but also the ineptness of the disciples. And your hope is draining away at an alarming rate. You have been foolish. You have risked the rare public outing and have received scorn, no help, and have purchased for yourself the myriad opportunities for your son to be persecuted by his demon.

And this is this situation that Christ enters.

Christ and the Healing

One commentator I came across in my studies referred to the Father’s words as the sweetest in all the New Testament – “I believe Lord, forgive my unbelief.” I am inclined to agree that they are indeed near to such a title.  At the least they warrant further investigation. Pick it up at verse 23:

“And Jesus said to him, '"If you can"! All things are possible for one who believes.' Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, 'I believe; help my unbelief!' And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, 'You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.' And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, 'He is dead.' But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose" (Mark 9:23-27).

The Father’s words—If Thou canst do anything— are an “Expression of doubt or infirm faith, which, having been at the beginning too weak, had become more and more weak in consequence of the failure of the disciples’ attempt.” Now I want to slow down slightly and parse precisely what occurs between the Father and Christ. Christ exhorts the Father to believe, noting that all things are possible for those who believe. The Father, moved to tears, cries out that he believes, and but also acknowledges a category of unbelief coexisting with his profession of belief. And if we look carefully, it was likely this that the disciples were arguing about with the Pharisees. Instead of a stalwart belief that that Godman could heal the boy, the disciples are likely caught up in arguing theology with the religious leaders of the day. And this argument is doing nothing but instilling doubt in the minds of the audience. That’s why Jesus, when he descends down the mountain in glory asks them—what are you arguing about? I am present. I am the end of the argument. I am the answer to the argument. Doubt no longer that I can heal this child.

But this should prompt us to ask, according to verse 24 – what is it that the Father believes? I mean it’s clear that he hasn’t lost all faith in light of the disciples argument, has he? Put simply, he believes that Christ can and will heal his son (note the prior verse: All things are possible for one who believes.) – so what does he need pardon for in terms of his unbelief? Isn’t the point that the Father needs his son healed?  The Father is repenting of his unbelief in Christ as Lord, which is the foundational issue in this exchange. J.P. Lange noted in this exchange “the faith which now sprang up in the man was the more spiritual, in that it was a belief that Jesus could strengthen the deficient faith into the ability perfectly to believe, and so by this means remove also his external distress.”  The Father knew that it was only Christ who could impart this mode of belief to him. 

Now, why is this important? There are many Christians – Jesus Loving, Bible believing, god-and-other-serving folk who believe that we have a special capacity of free-will that lets us choose God over sin. That in the blank slate of things, we have a natural ability to just go one way or the other. And I don’t want to argue with any of them. What I do want to do is highlight how this passage underlines the authority of Christ to grant belief and salvation to all who ask of him. It is Jesus who saves us from not only our sin, but also our unbelief. Jesus wants to save us from endless arguments about who he is and what he came to do, and whether or not he can achieve it. Hear me clearly, unbelief co-exists with belief! That happens! But what Mark and subsequently the Holy Spirit are urging us is to repent of it and seek our refuge and our healing in Christ. Because Friends hear me clearly, Jesus isn’t a fan of our doubt, or our arguments that serve little than to cast doubt on him. But I don’t want to zoom out just yet, I want us to really dig down and recognize who we are in this story 

In this story, let me tell you who we are. We are in the crowd, looking on with skepticism and with guarded hope – Is Jesus who he says he is? Is He who is here the who was to come? We are the disciples, imperfect in our modeling of Christ, unable to perfectly follow and model our master. We’re arguing with the Pharisees because we don’t fully believe ourselves. We are the Father of the boy – penitent, expectant, crushed under the weight of what life has brought to us. Man, we’re tired. We’re weary and we are heart-sick. We are weary from the lack of explanations from doctors who are perplexed by our son, we are downcast, and we are forlorn, and we have unbelief mixed with your very real desire that all that is bad may become untrue. But perhaps most specifically, we are the child, sick with sin, broken in all our ways, bearing the scars of years in enslavement, desperate for life anew. 

We read this story and think – how quaint, an exorcism. And then our minds with their modern sensibilities carry us off on the rabbit trail, claiming to us that such a case would be treated as it actually is, epilepsy or the like.  Let me mention, that not only is this thinking egregiously fallacious, but also spiritually naïve. I would like to suggest we are too apathetic to even try and exorcise the demons we do have! Greed, spite, envy, racism, addiction to pornography, malice and godlessness. It is not that Satan’s influence is no longer felt; the demons have simply changed their names. 

What has not changed is our need for deliverance and our utter inability to do so ourselves. We are stuck! Now some may say “woah, this demon language is a little harsh and inappropriate” But have you considered Col 1:13? “For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves” and 1 Pet. 2:9 “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” And even Eph 6:12 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” To suggest that the NT is clear that there is a spiritual dimension to our struggle and it is silly to suggest otherwise. 

But to camp here is to miss Mark’s ultimate point – we know all too well who we are in this story, who is Jesus? In this story Jesus the Christ is a General, rushing into battle to save his failing troops the disciples. In this story, Jesus is spiritual and physical physician, true and good doctor healing the boy of his demonic malady, restoring to him the damage done through years of persecution; through years of having his mind and body ravaged by the evils of possession-- rescuing him even from death. In this story Jesus is defender of the downtrodden and of the weak, of those ridiculed and rendered helpless by the authorities. In this story Christ is Father, protector of his children, giver of good gifts and in this story, Christ is savior, author of faith, protecting our bruised reed of hope, our smoldering wick of belief, rescuing us from inane arguments that only foster unbelief. And friends, I need to ask Is he your Savior? Is he your hope? Is he your great physician? Do you believe it? Or are we still arguing about it with ourselves and with others? Mark is clear – Jesus is Christ on the mount of transfiguration in resplendent glory, and Jesus is the Christ in the dark valley, banishing the demons and picking up the battered and bruised body of a child out of the mud and breathing into him life anew. Look, a literary metaphor for our redemption, for our new life. Just as the Father of the boy had to bring the child for help, so too Christ brings us to the Father, knowing that on our own, we’re incapable. Jesus loves you. He loves you and wants you to live.

Conclusion

So where does this leave us? I have already presumed upon you for far too long this evening, so let me wrap up and leave you with some parting considerations. When you think about who Jesus is, do you find doubt there about who he claimed to be? And if you do find doubt, what do you do with it? Do we, like the disciples, engage in argumentation either in our own minds or with others, or do we look to the foot of the mountain, to the amazing face of Christ, understanding and believing that within him is healing, redemption and life itself. Our passage this morning has instructed us that the two, doubt and faith exist, but Jesus would cleanse us of even our doubt. And that Jesus is sufficient even to give us the belief we lack, and not just sufficient, he wants to! This weekend we would do well to examine the demons that plague our own lives, and cast ourselves on Christ for the healing we so desperately need, and as a result realize that he settles the argument, for he is the answer.

The challenge, in presenting a text like this, is to commit a classic seminary over-step. The temptation for many seminary students, myself included, is to attempt to pour forth absolutely everything they know, or the commentaries have told them, on a given topic. To explore every nook and cranny of the text, itself a noble aim, is to presume upon the good nature and valuable time of those gracious enough to extend their time to you. The impulse is a good one, so while this evening we are only able to zero in on Jesus’ question, found in verse 16, I encourage you to marinate in this text this weekend.

With that bit of preamble out of the way, I want to ask, why is talking about exorcisms and demons unpopular today? Or perhaps better put, why is it supremely popular, but only from a sensationalist standpoint (Hollywood)? Allow me to offer three conjectures:

It’s weird. We’re content positing there is a God, but let’s not get all bizarre with the whole demons thing. We have a hard-enough time getting people to acknowledge the spiritual realm.

It’s uncomfortable. We know that biblical writers just didn’t have an understanding of mental illness, so they thought people were possessed. We know better now, and these stories are embarrassing.

We don’t know what to think. Does this stuff still happen? If so, why? Could it happen to me? Maybe we should just ignore it and it will go away.

Whether I am successful in answering any of these questions, I will leave it

for you to judge. My intent however, is to unpack some insights from Jesus’ exorcism of a demon possessed child, and particularly, his question that he poses to the disciples immediately beforehand. The event is recorded in scripture and as a result, asks that we reckon with it.  Lastly, after we have journeyed through this text together, I would like to glean some of the insights and apply them to how we might consider Jesus’ words and his question for us as well. With that in mind, let’s pray.

“What on Earth Is Going on Here?” Text and Context

As a bit of an exegetical tip—when diving into a text, be it on your own, with a study group, or in church, always take a moment to read the surrounding texts—both before and after. Often, perhaps especially in the gospels, crucial details about why a story or teaching is located where it is are contained in the passages just before or after. While time restricts a full investigation of these surrounding texts, it is vital to note that just prior to this story is the account of the transfiguration of Christ. What is that? 

The transfiguration is the event wherein Jesus and his inner circle of disciples, Peter James and John, retreat from the larger group to the mount of transfiguration, wherein Christ is miraculously made glorious before them, brilliant in glory and appearing with Moses and Elijah. This is considered one of the five most significant acts of Jesus’ ministry and demonstrates his superiority to both the law and prophets, his unique relationship with God the Father, and also, his real presence as link between heaven and earth. So it’s this monumental, divine, glorious picture of the fullness of the deity of Christ. And it’s on a mountain. Can you see how this event is just jaw-droppingly majestic? Keep that image in your mind as we turn our attention to the text.

Intro Passage 

Just a few verses earlier, we note the Jesus is descending the mountain with the inner circle, Peter James and John: "And as they were coming down the mountain, he charged them to tell no one what they had seen, until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead might mean. And they asked him, “Why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?'” (Mark 9:9-11). Where our passage picks up, we see that Christ has reunited with the rest of the disciples and they are caught up in a dispute with the Pharisees. Verse 14: “And when they came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. And he asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” (Mark 9:14-16).

One or two notes to highlight here, when the crowd meets Jesus, they are already greatly amazed by him. Why would that be? Jesus hasn’t done anything at this point necessarily to warrant amazement. Several commentators point out the Greek here for amaze could be closer to overwhelmed or overawed with Christ – and this is likely on account of his residual radiance from the transfiguration. It is clear, that Christ’s majesty has been imbued upon his very character and the crowds can tell this simply by beholding him. Do you begin to see the contrast that Mark has been pulling together here? We have Christ made glorious on the mountain-top just a passage before, and here he has now traversed into the valley where the demons lie waiting. It is not just a device in the story; it is a picture of Christ’s cosmic condescension, from glory into our plight, into our story. And it’s this transition, from mountain to valley that prompts Jesus’ question to the disciples—namely, what are you arguing about? And it is the action that follows that gives us a hint as to what argument the disciples are embroiled in. So indeed, in the immediate context, what is the story the Christ has entered into?

The Man and His Son

Mark presents the story of the demon possessed child in a literary fashion that we could accurately call, In Media Res – that is to say, “in the middle of things”. Were the reader to simply begin at Mark 9:13 they are immediately drawn into, not only the conflict between the Pharisees and the Disciples, but also, the life of a father and his drastically ill, neigh, even demonically influenced son. Let us slow down for a minute and consider the plight of the Father, and not only his plight, but that of the boy, as well. And our entry point for this analysis will be the Father’s own description, which you will notice, occurs in verse 17: 

“And someone from the crowd answered him, 'Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.' And he answered them, 'O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.' And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, 'How long has this been happening to him?' And he said, 'From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us'" (Mark 9:17-22).

The Father is clear – his Son has been afflicted by a demon that is thorough in it’s malicious intent – The demon is intent on destroying the boy. And this isn’t a recent development, this has been occurring from the boy’s childhood. One needn’t think hard to understand how drastically affected this family’s life has been. The Father almost certainly would have to be present with his son at all times, and if not him, a close member of the family to ensure that the Son was free from environmental danger. But which family member can you ask? Culturally, the family almost certainly would have been ostracized, in part because the father would almost never attend the synagogue for fear that his son would burn himself on the alter for offerings, but furthermore, because this kind of illness, and illness generally was perceived as a marker for the judgment of God. “Yes, that’s the man whose son is unclean” “yes, that’s the man whose family is unclean” “yes, that Family is under the judgment of God” and at the risk of sounding maudlin, how deeply painful must it be that your son, your flesh and blood is unable to relate to you in the most basic of terms, years of absent “I love yous” countless joys and memories robbed by illness and possession. The years waiting for words to form turn into a decade of deafening silence. It is overreaching, but it is perhaps noticeable that the mother is conspicuously absent in this story – not at all to cast aspersions on woman, but rather to acknowledge the undeniable strain such circumstances would place on a marriage.

And now, I want you to take our thought experiment and catch up with the story. You are the Father. You have sought Christ out. You heard that there is this Galilean, hanging out with a rag-tag group of disciples and there have been rumors of healings in his wake. The blind see, the lame are healed and sinners are pronounced forgiven. But they’re just rumors. You haven’t seen the healed. And besides, natural laws are natural laws – there is no room for the miraculous. But you’re at your wits end! You have nothing left and every day poses new threats for your son. So you seek him out and you see a crowd of his disciples at the foot of the mountain – Jesus must be there too! The disciples are certain they can help – and they get to work, praying over your son, anointing him, but nothing is working. Some nearby Pharisees come over to observe the commotion, along with some crowds. The Pharisees start calling out the disciples, reinforcing not only the perceived sinfulness of your family, but also the ineptness of the disciples. And your hope is draining away at an alarming rate. You have been foolish. You have risked the rare public outing and have received scorn, no help, and have purchased for yourself the myriad opportunities for your son to be persecuted by his demon.

And this is this situation that Christ enters.

Christ and the Healing

One commentator I came across in my studies referred to the Father’s words as the sweetest in all the New Testament – “I believe Lord, forgive my unbelief.” I am inclined to agree that they are indeed near to such a title.  At the least they warrant further investigation. Pick it up at verse 23:

“And Jesus said to him, '"If you can"! All things are possible for one who believes.' Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, 'I believe; help my unbelief!' And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, 'You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.' And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, 'He is dead.' But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose" (Mark 9:23-27).

The Father’s words—If Thou canst do anything— are an “Expression of doubt or infirm faith, which, having been at the beginning too weak, had become more and more weak in consequence of the failure of the disciples’ attempt.” Now I want to slow down slightly and parse precisely what occurs between the Father and Christ. Christ exhorts the Father to believe, noting that all things are possible for those who believe. The Father, moved to tears, cries out that he believes, and but also acknowledges a category of unbelief coexisting with his profession of belief. And if we look carefully, it was likely this that the disciples were arguing about with the Pharisees. Instead of a stalwart belief that that Godman could heal the boy, the disciples are likely caught up in arguing theology with the religious leaders of the day. And this argument is doing nothing but instilling doubt in the minds of the audience. That’s why Jesus, when he descends down the mountain in glory asks them—what are you arguing about? I am present. I am the end of the argument. I am the answer to the argument. Doubt no longer that I can heal this child.

But this should prompt us to ask, according to verse 24 – what is it that the Father believes? I mean it’s clear that he hasn’t lost all faith in light of the disciples argument, has he? Put simply, he believes that Christ can and will heal his son (note the prior verse: All things are possible for one who believes.) – so what does he need pardon for in terms of his unbelief? Isn’t the point that the Father needs his son healed?  The Father is repenting of his unbelief in Christ as Lord, which is the foundational issue in this exchange. J.P. Lange noted in this exchange “the faith which now sprang up in the man was the more spiritual, in that it was a belief that Jesus could strengthen the deficient faith into the ability perfectly to believe, and so by this means remove also his external distress.”  The Father knew that it was only Christ who could impart this mode of belief to him. 

Now, why is this important? There are many Christians – Jesus Loving, Bible believing, god-and-other-serving folk who believe that we have a special capacity of free-will that lets us choose God over sin. That in the blank slate of things, we have a natural ability to just go one way or the other. And I don’t want to argue with any of them. What I do want to do is highlight how this passage underlines the authority of Christ to grant belief and salvation to all who ask of him. It is Jesus who saves us from not only our sin, but also our unbelief. Jesus wants to save us from endless arguments about who he is and what he came to do, and whether or not he can achieve it. Hear me clearly, unbelief co-exists with belief! That happens! But what Mark and subsequently the Holy Spirit are urging us is to repent of it and seek our refuge and our healing in Christ. Because Friends hear me clearly, Jesus isn’t a fan of our doubt, or our arguments that serve little than to cast doubt on him. But I don’t want to zoom out just yet, I want us to really dig down and recognize who we are in this story 

In this story, let me tell you who we are. We are in the crowd, looking on with skepticism and with guarded hope – Is Jesus who he says he is? Is He who is here the who was to come? We are the disciples, imperfect in our modeling of Christ, unable to perfectly follow and model our master. We’re arguing with the Pharisees because we don’t fully believe ourselves. We are the Father of the boy – penitent, expectant, crushed under the weight of what life has brought to us. Man, we’re tired. We’re weary and we are heart-sick. We are weary from the lack of explanations from doctors who are perplexed by our son, we are downcast, and we are forlorn, and we have unbelief mixed with your very real desire that all that is bad may become untrue. But perhaps most specifically, we are the child, sick with sin, broken in all our ways, bearing the scars of years in enslavement, desperate for life anew. 

We read this story and think – how quaint, an exorcism. And then our minds with their modern sensibilities carry us off on the rabbit trail, claiming to us that such a case would be treated as it actually is, epilepsy or the like.  Let me mention, that not only is this thinking egregiously fallacious, but also spiritually naïve. I would like to suggest we are too apathetic to even try and exorcise the demons we do have! Greed, spite, envy, racism, addiction to pornography, malice and godlessness. It is not that Satan’s influence is no longer felt; the demons have simply changed their names. 

What has not changed is our need for deliverance and our utter inability to do so ourselves. We are stuck! Now some may say “woah, this demon language is a little harsh and inappropriate” But have you considered Col 1:13? “For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves” and 1 Pet. 2:9 “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” And even Eph 6:12 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” To suggest that the NT is clear that there is a spiritual dimension to our struggle and it is silly to suggest otherwise. 

But to camp here is to miss Mark’s ultimate point – we know all too well who we are in this story, who is Jesus? In this story Jesus the Christ is a General, rushing into battle to save his failing troops the disciples. In this story, Jesus is spiritual and physical physician, true and good doctor healing the boy of his demonic malady, restoring to him the damage done through years of persecution; through years of having his mind and body ravaged by the evils of possession-- rescuing him even from death. In this story Jesus is defender of the downtrodden and of the weak, of those ridiculed and rendered helpless by the authorities. In this story Christ is Father, protector of his children, giver of good gifts and in this story, Christ is savior, author of faith, protecting our bruised reed of hope, our smoldering wick of belief, rescuing us from inane arguments that only foster unbelief. And friends, I need to ask Is he your Savior? Is he your hope? Is he your great physician? Do you believe it? Or are we still arguing about it with ourselves and with others? Mark is clear – Jesus is Christ on the mount of transfiguration in resplendent glory, and Jesus is the Christ in the dark valley, banishing the demons and picking up the battered and bruised body of a child out of the mud and breathing into him life anew. Look, a literary metaphor for our redemption, for our new life. Just as the Father of the boy had to bring the child for help, so too Christ brings us to the Father, knowing that on our own, we’re incapable. Jesus loves you. He loves you and wants you to live.

Conclusion

So where does this leave us? I have already presumed upon you for far too long this evening, so let me wrap up and leave you with some parting considerations. When you think about who Jesus is, do you find doubt there about who he claimed to be? And if you do find doubt, what do you do with it? Do we, like the disciples, engage in argumentation either in our own minds or with others, or do we look to the foot of the mountain, to the amazing face of Christ, understanding and believing that within him is healing, redemption and life itself. Our passage this morning has instructed us that the two, doubt and faith exist, but Jesus would cleanse us of even our doubt. And that Jesus is sufficient even to give us the belief we lack, and not just sufficient, he wants to! This weekend we would do well to examine the demons that plague our own lives, and cast ourselves on Christ for the healing we so desperately need, and as a result realize that he settles the argument, for he is the answer.

(Author’s note: I am greatly indebted to the work and ministry of Norm Funk [previously of Westside Church, Vancouver], particularly in regard to this sermon. Norm’s exegetical insights and cultural observations have been invaluable and influential, and I use there here with permission.)

If I were to put a half of a popular phrase to you this morning, I wonder if you could complete the latter half: “if you want something done right…[do it yourself!]”. Right! That was a bit of a gamble, in the event that few of us had ever heard that phrase, but in many ways, I think it was a pretty safe bet. Why? Well, I think that the sentiment that success, true success is really up to us. That if we need results in something that matters we need to be the ones who oversee it or execute it ourselves. That the really important things can’t be left to other people, because they’ll maybe let us down. Or perhaps they’ll do a poor job. Now in some ways, this is a quite a helpful dictum in that if it encourages to take responsibility and do our best work then there is some truth there. 

Where I wonder if we run into trouble with this idea is when we begin applying it to our spiritual health. Particularly if we find ourselves in a spot of trouble. I wonder if our tendency isn’t to try and fix ourselves—apply our hard work and our effort to a problem in the hopes that maybe we can be the ones to make it better, to do it right and to do it ourselves. When faced with spiritual difficulties, we design a program of hard work, and self-help, instead of going to where the real assistance might be found. And this process can really become quite isolating, until we find ourselves in need of real help, and maybe unsure of where to turn.

This morning we encounter a bit of a similar situation found in John 5:1-17, and our Lord asking a bold faced, even odd question: namely, “do you want to be healed?” So maybe this morning you find yourself in a spot of trouble and you’re tempted to sort it out yourself—or perhaps you can recall a time where this is the case. Wherever you may be at, let’s dig into John’s gospel and see if we can get at the core of Jesus’ question, and why it is he asks it, both of the character in the story, and us today.

Text: Introduction and Context

After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’ ” They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” (John 5:1-17)

So let’s pick it up in our story, shall we? Take a look at v. 1 and following: “after this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades.” So John’s phrase, “after this” or more formally in the Greek “after these things” only loosely connects Jesus to the preceding events. What we see instead is a sort of emphasis in John’s voice, as one commentator put it, it is as though he is saying, “the next thing I would like to tell you is this. John then proceeds to paint for us a vivid portrait: a pool called Bethesda that has five roofed colonnades.” Archeological evidence attests to this pool near the sheep gate, it was in doubt until about the 19th century, however reasonably recent discoveries have verified the existence. The basic construction here would have likely been two separate pools, demarcated by a long colonnade. John is pointing out that this is a space where large crowds would congregate, and John carries on to note what kind of crowds these are exactly, and we see that in verse 3, take a look: "In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed.” So this pool, at Bethesda is a place where the blind the lame and paralyzed gather, where they congregate, and note, it is a multitude. Now this should naturally beg the question, why are they congregating? Well let’s follow along and take a look at verse 4 and see what John says.

What’s the problem? There’s no verse 4! What’s going on here? Did it fall out? Now before you hastily contact your publisher, just have a gander at the footnotes in your bibles and you’ll likely see the note of explanation. Here in mine, it notes, “Some manuscripts insert, wholly or in part, waiting for the moving of the water; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred the water: whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.” 

Ok, so what’s going on? In sum, the earliest and best manuscripts for John just don’t have this passage. But some later, and still reliable manuscripts do. So our bibles (KJV exempted, among others) follow suit and alert you to the issue. What more than likely happened in the textual tradition is that verse 4 would have been a scribal insertion to make sense of the crippled man’s statement in v.7: “The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” So we wouldn’t necessarily know what was going on without the scribal gloss. John however, seems to have been unconcerned about the miraculous nature of the pool as we shall see in a moment. 

But before we get there, what are we to make of the very phenomenon? A miraculous pool that an angel stirs up to heal the sick? To be frank, I think a healthy amount of critical distance is appropriate here, not to cast aspersions on the variant textual reading, but more as a reflection of John’s intent in this pericope. John just isn’t interested in it. What might have explained the healing property of the pool? There are a number of suggestions in the literature, some of which may even contain a glimmer of the truth, namely, that perhaps someone, at some point was indeed healed at this spring, and word got out that the Spring contained healing powers. We see this in the cult of Asclepius which was exceedingly popular in the 1st century. As D.A. Carson has noted, once a rumour got out about the healing powers of a particular spring, it would be almost impossible to quench and so these gatherings were, in effect, quite common. The pool at Bethesda itself was likely fed by a natural spring that would intermittently stir the waters, giving the impression of a kind of divine intervention. Now before we get too carried away and dismiss this notation in the text as being composed of whole cloth, I dare say that a lot of these springs still exist, even within our contemporary milieu, don’t they? Are there any places that the spiritually sick, the lame and the crippled gather, looking for something, anything to heal them of their malady? At the risk of drawing a parallel too early in the game, are we in danger of this too? We find ourselves in some trouble, maybe a besetting sin, or a capital “P” problem, and we hear of the great benefit that someone has received at something (some church? Some exercise regime? Some diet?) and have decided for ourselves to hang around the spring until it is stirred up? 

See, I think that when we find ourselves in times of spiritual difficulty or adversity we say to ourselves, right, if I want something done right, I’ve got to do it myself. If I want this fixed I am just going to roll up my sleeves and apply myself. But you know what? We find that our effort alone isn’t enough to conquer the issue at hand and so maybe we get a little frantic? Maybe the stakes get a little higher, and we start to look outside of our resources, but maybe we’re embarrassed to go to The Source and so our next impulse, brothers and sisters, is to find the next location of some magic spring where we can get ourselves to the water on time. Is that fair to say? Would it also be fair to say that this is largely built on the notion that “man, I got myself into this situation, but with enough work and enough sacrifice, I’ll get out, so I am going to hang around this magical pool”, whether it’s a new church, or more bible reading, or internet accountability software or AA, or whatever; you know where the pools are. You know who hangs out at them. And you know what, they’re people just like us. Take a look at v.5. 

"One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, 'Do you want to be healed?' The sick man answered him, 'Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me'" (John 5:5-7).

Now I don’t necessarily know what stands out to you about that portion of text, but I wonder if it might have to do with Jesus’ question. Now I want to be guarded in my language here, but I think John makes a point of highlighting Jesus’ exchange. I mean, isn’t it obvious what the man wants? John makes a point of saying that Jesus understood why the man was lying there, and that he had been there a long time, so why on earth would Jesus ask, “do you want to be healed”!? I had the privilege of working with kids with disabilities for years as I was working my way through grad school and even early into my marriage. I worked with kids with Autism in particular. And I don’t want to be insensitive, but it would absolutely be beyond the pale to ask one of the kids I worked with, “hey, would you rather be rid of this malady” or maybe think about asking a parent, “hey do you want your child healed? Do you want them fixed?” It strikes us as cold, or possibly uncaring and aloof. 

And besides to relate it to the text, Jesus knows (v.6), he knows why it is that the man is there, and therefore, it doesn’t seem a stretch to say that Jesus knows that the man would indeed want to be healed. Indeed, that the man himself could have responded, “of course I want to be healed! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to be set free from this paralysis.” 

There could be a variety of reasons that Jesus asks, and John doesn’t necessarily single out one. It could well be that there is a psychologizing element to Jesus’ question, truly asking the man if he does indeed want to be healed than why hasn’t he made greater effort (to, “do the work”) as it were, of being healed. 

I think there is some merit there. After all, how many of us, when we when we desire to be healed of whatever particular ailment afflicts us, are less interested in going to the work of obtaining the healing [let alone asking God through prayer, as Jesus invites the cripple to do]. For those paralyzed by online pornography and resolve to be healed by it, how many are willing to do the work of confessing to spouse, pastor and community? For those paralyzed by family relationships, be it spouse, children, sister or brother and desirous of healing; how many are willing to see a counselor? To put in the long hours, the repentance, the swallowing of pride? 

I think a possibly stronger reading of the question is actually to take it at face value. Jesus, in asking the man to voice his own desire asks him to confess the truth about his situation. That he can’t do right all by himself. And that he needs something greater than himself. To acknowledge the gravity and indeed, the very reality. 

But here notice how the man responds. In a sense, he doesn’t even answer Jesus’ question: "The sick man answered him, 'Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me'" (v. 7). The crippled man’s response is one of, in a sense, excuse. Sir, I don’t have anyone to help me. But notice here too, John hasn’t said anything about anyone else having some help to get into the pool and so what seems likely here is that the man views Jesus as a stepping stone to his ultimate goal. “hey, the reason I’m not healed is because I don’t have any help” and what’s implied here is the Jesus is to be the one who is to help the man into the pool, essentially giving him an upper hand over and above the multitude that gathers around the pool. 

Now if it sounds like I am being harsh to the crippled man in the story, I want to draw your attention to the fact that John doesn’t seem to take too high a view of the man either, noting that not only does he not even get the name of the man who healed him after 38 years of paralysis, but who, later in the story, informs on Jesus to the authorities so that they might pursue, convict and eventually execute Christ.

And further to this, and I think the point of John’s portrayal of the crippled man is that Jesus’ predominant concern is not of the man’s physical paralysis, but rather, his spiritual paralysis. If you drop down to v.14 we see the following: 

"Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, "See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.'"

That should catch us off guard, shouldn’t it? I mean, Jesus doesn’t even mention the man’s sin in the previous verses related to the healing. So what is the sin that this man needs to repent of? And Further, what greater harm could befall him? Right? I mean shouldn’t we have some sympathy? This man has been crippled for 38 years of his life! And friends, this is where I think John really dials it in for us, and that is, for St John, Sin, is fundamentally a failure to believe that Jesus is who he says he is 

John 3:16-18 : "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God."

So what is Jesus’ concern here? Jesus concern here, for this man, and most importantly, for us today, is that we not expose ourselves to something far greater than temporal paralysis. Eternal paralysis and eternal deadness in our sins. Our endless self-improvement projects, and our desire to do it right all by ourselves, if we aren’t careful, can distract us from putting our trust in the one who can actually save us! 

One of the dangers of believing that it can be all up to us to fix our situations, can be the temptation to believe that it is the effort invested in these resolutions, or the outcomes, that saves us. That somehow, we are going to fix the issue, solve the problem, and better ourselves through effort alone. If we were to add a reformation doctrine here it’s this idea of Sola Boot Strapia, right? Pick yourself up by your bootstraps and solve the problem yourself. If you want something done right, do it yourself!

Jesus isn’t just our accomplice to our ideas for self-improvement, Jesus isn’t the thing or the person we use to get what we really think we need or desire, Jesus is what we really need, Jesus is what we really desire. And just like the paralytic at the pool, Jesus isn’t the one who helps us get to what we think we need, not the one who throws us in the pool, whatever we think that is; Jesus is the one we need. And I think John is keen to point this out…

It’s Not the Water that Saves You, It’s Jesus 

…If we take a close look at what is going on here in the text, we can see a vested interest from John that seeks to guard against our understanding that it is by our efforts, or something we can control that is going to save us. Now why would I think that? The reason can been seen through theme, developed in John, particularly with his use of water imagery that points us in this direction. Let me show you what I mean, hang a quick left in your Bibles in John chapter 1.

In John 1 beginning around the 19th verse we have John the Baptist proclaiming the necessity of baptism, but we see in verse 33 that there is an even greater baptism that is to come:

"I myself did not know him, but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God" (John 1:33-34).

Do you see that? So Baptism is important, yea, even necessary, but it’s not the water that saves you in this case, and indeed, Jesus is shown to be the one who baptizes with the superior element, even person, namely the Holy Spirit. 

In John 2:6 we have record of Jesus’ first miracle, and we are told about 6 pots of water that are set aside for a ceremony of purification. Indeed, this water is consecrated for that purpose, but here we have Jesus, transforming the water, changing it from something set aside for ceremonial washing and instead a concrete symbol of celebration and a marking of the entrance of the inaugurator of the new covenant. So again, water imagery that is superseded by Jesus’ presence. The water at the wedding is good, but you need something better, something greater.

In John 3:5, in Jesus encounter with Nicodemus, Jesus says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” So again, Nicodemus, the water is Good, but you need something greater, something more, it’s not the water that saves you, good as that might be. Do you see a theme developing, John is returning to this water imagery to constantly demonstrate that with the presence of Christ, something greater than the old has come, and it behooves his audience to pay attention to that.

But it doesn’t stop there! John 4 recounts Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, and you can no doubt recall the details of the story, but what does Jesus say to her? "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (John 4:13-14). Jesus, is, in effect saying, yes, this well is important to you Samaritans, and indeed, water itself is important as it can sustain life, but in me and through me there is something more precious than water, living water! And see this ties into our earlier theme that there is something even more serious than temporal, physical paralysis, namely, eternal spiritual paralysis. And Jesus says, I am the well where you draw that deeper, better “water.”

It’s no wonder then that John continues on through his gospel with these images of water coursing and surging through them, finding their climax in John 19:34 when, only John of the gospel writers notes that “one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water." Do you see that, the water, the living water comes from the Christ, mingled with his blood, the superior element, the water washes away the physical blemish, but the blood of Christ washes away the sin.

So when we look at John 5, we can see that John has been working this theme of water to show his readers, “look, I could care less if you think this spring has angelic powers, because something better than an angel is here to heal, it’s the Christ!” That’s why I think John doesn’t bother to include the gloss in his Gospel. It’s not important to him. The cripple is seeking healing in something that can never, has not for 38 years provided healing, and John is saying that healing, that blessing is only found in Christ. 

A Final Note: Why Jesus?

Some of you are here this morning, and you’ve summited some pretty serious mountains of difficulty in your life, only to be face to face with yet more inevitable obstacles; hiding behind many of these obstacles is, no doubt, the fear of failure and disappointment. Right? You’re looking out at this summer and you know that not only are new challenges coming, you’re stuck with the same faults, the same weaknesses and in the same vulnerabilities. And there is going to be the tendency that wells up within you to double down on your own efforts, to pick yourself up by your own bootstraps and to charge down to whatever magical pool of healing you think might save you. And that’s a real tendency, and indeed, some of you might still be hanging around some of these pools just waiting for that water to stir up. 

And maybe some of you are thinking this morning that perhaps Jesus is tired of seeing you by that pool. That maybe in your mind you can recall a time where you really did feel like Jesus was a vibrant and active presence in your life, but since then you, like the crippled man at the pool disregarded his caution and went back to a life of sin. And the very real, and I think appropriate question that can arise from that is, do I have any other recourse than to just try and do this myself? I mean, I tried Jesus and failed, and now, I’ve got one option left, and that’s doing it on my strength and on my own. 

Let me offer just two comments in response to this.

First, I want to gently note that this mode of thinking is predominantly the domain of works righteousness. It’s a decision that says I am going to earn back my place with Christ, that I am going to fix this problem. And friends, what more is this than simple self-righteousness? That we have, within the resources of ourselves the capacity to fix our problem? The ability to get to the pool in time to make everything better?

Second, and I think far more importantly, the repeated, emphatic and over-arching message of the scriptures is that Jesus isn’t tired of you. That Jesus isn’t done with you. That it is the impulse of a loving, tender and compassionate God to send his son to seek and save the lost. I mean, sure, we’ve got a picture of a stubborn and obstinate cripple in the story who scorns the very one who heals him, but how much greater, how much more beautiful is that man, the one who walked through the sheep gate, the one with healing in his hands? The one who condescended, he came down, into our plight, into our world, into our struggle, and not to condemn the world, but through him, the world might be saved? I mean, friends, this isn’t the stern rebuke of an angry and distant demi-urge, this is the flesh and blood, the real and genuine care and compassion of Emmanuel, God with us.

And we see this compassion, which literally means “suffering with” painted throughout the canvas of scripture. Sometimes we see the prophet Isaiah connected with our advent readings, and what does Isaiah say about this man, about this messiah? Isaiah 53:

"He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not" (Isaiah 53:3).

And we’re used to hearing that, right that Jesus is a man of sorrows? Acquainted with grief? But notice especially what Isaiah is doing here in the context, whose grief is Jesus so intimately acquainted with? Just carry over into verse 4:

"Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted" (Isaiah 53:4).

Man, Jesus is here and he’s present and he is familiar with your struggle, with your disappointment, with your ache and your loss. And not just familiar, man he carries them. He willingly submitted himself to the burden. This is why Matthew in chapter 8 picks up on Isaiah’s meaning, where we see that Jesus doesn’t heal one person, he heals many:

"And when Jesus entered Peter’s house, he saw his mother-in-law lying sick with a fever. He touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she rose and began to serve him. That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirits with a word and healed all who were sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: 'He took our illnesses and bore our diseases'" (Matthew 8:14-17).

And not just Isaiah, the shortest verse in all the bible paints in no uncertain terms that Jesus cares about your suffering, John 11:35 “Jesus wept” and the following verse right after notes that this very demonstration shows the Jews how he cared about the loss of Lazarus and how it affected his friends and family. This is why St Peter in his epistle exhorts us to “cast all your cares on him”, why Peter, why would we do that? “because he cares for you.” Man, that pool doesn’t care about you.

And if that isn’t enough then let me leave you with one final reason to seek Christ, to return to Christ, to find your refuge, your healing and your resolve in Christ. You’ll recall that, earlier, we looked a little bit at the question that Jesus asks the cripple at the pool of Bethesda. And you’ll recall, it was a strange question, right? Now some of your minds might have been piqued to a similar question that Jesus asks a blind man in Mark 10, namely “what do you want me to do for you.” Indeed this is similar, but I daresay we can find greater encouragement in Christ’s words to a leper in Mark 1:40-41. Here is just a fleeting glimpse, the smallest of stories, and indeed, a single verb that I think helps us unlock not just some of the meaning of our story in John but our hope in Christ. Here we see that a Leper, approaching Jesus implores Christ to be made clean, and we see these words:

"And a leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, 'If you will, you can make me clean.' Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, 'I will; be clean'" (Mark 1:40-41).

Now, I don’t want to get bogged down in the Greek, but let me just show you this. The word for “will” here can easily, and is often, translated as “want” elsewhere in the New Testament. So look at this verse: there is a sick man, an unclean man, a burdened man, and outcast who approaches Jesus and says “hey if you want to you can heal me.” And Jesus replies, “I want to.” Do you see how this beautifully reverses our text from John? Instead of us, saying with the cripple, of course I want to be healed! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to be set free from this paralysis, we can see Jesus, emphatically stating: do I want to heal you?! Of course! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to set you free from this paralysis. 

Friends, this transcends the gospel of Mark, it transcends 2000 years of history and meets us here, today. Do you want to be healed? Do you want to be restored? Do you want life and life to the full? Then can I suggest, as a brother and friend in Christ, that you skip the magic pool of a self-help plan and go right to the source. That you ask the God-man himself and receive healing for the physical and the spiritual. Indeed, the whole person.

(Author’s note: I am greatly indebted to the work and ministry of Norm Funk [previously of Westside Church, Vancouver], particularly in regard to this sermon. Norm’s exegetical insights and cultural observations have been invaluable and influential, and I use there here with permission.)

If I were to put a half of a popular phrase to you this morning, I wonder if you could complete the latter half: “if you want something done right…[do it yourself!]”. Right! That was a bit of a gamble, in the event that few of us had ever heard that phrase, but in many ways, I think it was a pretty safe bet. Why? Well, I think that the sentiment that success, true success is really up to us. That if we need results in something that matters we need to be the ones who oversee it or execute it ourselves. That the really important things can’t be left to other people, because they’ll maybe let us down. Or perhaps they’ll do a poor job. Now in some ways, this is a quite a helpful dictum in that if it encourages to take responsibility and do our best work then there is some truth there. 

Where I wonder if we run into trouble with this idea is when we begin applying it to our spiritual health. Particularly if we find ourselves in a spot of trouble. I wonder if our tendency isn’t to try and fix ourselves—apply our hard work and our effort to a problem in the hopes that maybe we can be the ones to make it better, to do it right and to do it ourselves. When faced with spiritual difficulties, we design a program of hard work, and self-help, instead of going to where the real assistance might be found. And this process can really become quite isolating, until we find ourselves in need of real help, and maybe unsure of where to turn.

This morning we encounter a bit of a similar situation found in John 5:1-17, and our Lord asking a bold faced, even odd question: namely, “do you want to be healed?” So maybe this morning you find yourself in a spot of trouble and you’re tempted to sort it out yourself—or perhaps you can recall a time where this is the case. Wherever you may be at, let’s dig into John’s gospel and see if we can get at the core of Jesus’ question, and why it is he asks it, both of the character in the story, and us today.

Text: Introduction and Context

After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’ ” They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” (John 5:1-17)

So let’s pick it up in our story, shall we? Take a look at v. 1 and following: “after this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades.” So John’s phrase, “after this” or more formally in the Greek “after these things” only loosely connects Jesus to the preceding events. What we see instead is a sort of emphasis in John’s voice, as one commentator put it, it is as though he is saying, “the next thing I would like to tell you is this. John then proceeds to paint for us a vivid portrait: a pool called Bethesda that has five roofed colonnades.” Archeological evidence attests to this pool near the sheep gate, it was in doubt until about the 19th century, however reasonably recent discoveries have verified the existence. The basic construction here would have likely been two separate pools, demarcated by a long colonnade. John is pointing out that this is a space where large crowds would congregate, and John carries on to note what kind of crowds these are exactly, and we see that in verse 3, take a look: "In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed.” So this pool, at Bethesda is a place where the blind the lame and paralyzed gather, where they congregate, and note, it is a multitude. Now this should naturally beg the question, why are they congregating? Well let’s follow along and take a look at verse 4 and see what John says.

What’s the problem? There’s no verse 4! What’s going on here? Did it fall out? Now before you hastily contact your publisher, just have a gander at the footnotes in your bibles and you’ll likely see the note of explanation. Here in mine, it notes, “Some manuscripts insert, wholly or in part, waiting for the moving of the water; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred the water: whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.” 

Ok, so what’s going on? In sum, the earliest and best manuscripts for John just don’t have this passage. But some later, and still reliable manuscripts do. So our bibles (KJV exempted, among others) follow suit and alert you to the issue. What more than likely happened in the textual tradition is that verse 4 would have been a scribal insertion to make sense of the crippled man’s statement in v.7: “The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” So we wouldn’t necessarily know what was going on without the scribal gloss. John however, seems to have been unconcerned about the miraculous nature of the pool as we shall see in a moment. 

But before we get there, what are we to make of the very phenomenon? A miraculous pool that an angel stirs up to heal the sick? To be frank, I think a healthy amount of critical distance is appropriate here, not to cast aspersions on the variant textual reading, but more as a reflection of John’s intent in this pericope. John just isn’t interested in it. What might have explained the healing property of the pool? There are a number of suggestions in the literature, some of which may even contain a glimmer of the truth, namely, that perhaps someone, at some point was indeed healed at this spring, and word got out that the Spring contained healing powers. We see this in the cult of Asclepius which was exceedingly popular in the 1st century. As D.A. Carson has noted, once a rumour got out about the healing powers of a particular spring, it would be almost impossible to quench and so these gatherings were, in effect, quite common. The pool at Bethesda itself was likely fed by a natural spring that would intermittently stir the waters, giving the impression of a kind of divine intervention. Now before we get too carried away and dismiss this notation in the text as being composed of whole cloth, I dare say that a lot of these springs still exist, even within our contemporary milieu, don’t they? Are there any places that the spiritually sick, the lame and the crippled gather, looking for something, anything to heal them of their malady? At the risk of drawing a parallel too early in the game, are we in danger of this too? We find ourselves in some trouble, maybe a besetting sin, or a capital “P” problem, and we hear of the great benefit that someone has received at something (some church? Some exercise regime? Some diet?) and have decided for ourselves to hang around the spring until it is stirred up? 

See, I think that when we find ourselves in times of spiritual difficulty or adversity we say to ourselves, right, if I want something done right, I’ve got to do it myself. If I want this fixed I am just going to roll up my sleeves and apply myself. But you know what? We find that our effort alone isn’t enough to conquer the issue at hand and so maybe we get a little frantic? Maybe the stakes get a little higher, and we start to look outside of our resources, but maybe we’re embarrassed to go to The Source and so our next impulse, brothers and sisters, is to find the next location of some magic spring where we can get ourselves to the water on time. Is that fair to say? Would it also be fair to say that this is largely built on the notion that “man, I got myself into this situation, but with enough work and enough sacrifice, I’ll get out, so I am going to hang around this magical pool”, whether it’s a new church, or more bible reading, or internet accountability software or AA, or whatever; you know where the pools are. You know who hangs out at them. And you know what, they’re people just like us. Take a look at v.5. 

"One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, 'Do you want to be healed?' The sick man answered him, 'Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me'" (John 5:5-7).

Now I don’t necessarily know what stands out to you about that portion of text, but I wonder if it might have to do with Jesus’ question. Now I want to be guarded in my language here, but I think John makes a point of highlighting Jesus’ exchange. I mean, isn’t it obvious what the man wants? John makes a point of saying that Jesus understood why the man was lying there, and that he had been there a long time, so why on earth would Jesus ask, “do you want to be healed”!? I had the privilege of working with kids with disabilities for years as I was working my way through grad school and even early into my marriage. I worked with kids with Autism in particular. And I don’t want to be insensitive, but it would absolutely be beyond the pale to ask one of the kids I worked with, “hey, would you rather be rid of this malady” or maybe think about asking a parent, “hey do you want your child healed? Do you want them fixed?” It strikes us as cold, or possibly uncaring and aloof. 

And besides to relate it to the text, Jesus knows (v.6), he knows why it is that the man is there, and therefore, it doesn’t seem a stretch to say that Jesus knows that the man would indeed want to be healed. Indeed, that the man himself could have responded, “of course I want to be healed! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to be set free from this paralysis.” 

There could be a variety of reasons that Jesus asks, and John doesn’t necessarily single out one. It could well be that there is a psychologizing element to Jesus’ question, truly asking the man if he does indeed want to be healed than why hasn’t he made greater effort (to, “do the work”) as it were, of being healed. 

I think there is some merit there. After all, how many of us, when we when we desire to be healed of whatever particular ailment afflicts us, are less interested in going to the work of obtaining the healing [let alone asking God through prayer, as Jesus invites the cripple to do]. For those paralyzed by online pornography and resolve to be healed by it, how many are willing to do the work of confessing to spouse, pastor and community? For those paralyzed by family relationships, be it spouse, children, sister or brother and desirous of healing; how many are willing to see a counselor? To put in the long hours, the repentance, the swallowing of pride? 

I think a possibly stronger reading of the question is actually to take it at face value. Jesus, in asking the man to voice his own desire asks him to confess the truth about his situation. That he can’t do right all by himself. And that he needs something greater than himself. To acknowledge the gravity and indeed, the very reality. 

But here notice how the man responds. In a sense, he doesn’t even answer Jesus’ question: "The sick man answered him, 'Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me'" (v. 7). The crippled man’s response is one of, in a sense, excuse. Sir, I don’t have anyone to help me. But notice here too, John hasn’t said anything about anyone else having some help to get into the pool and so what seems likely here is that the man views Jesus as a stepping stone to his ultimate goal. “hey, the reason I’m not healed is because I don’t have any help” and what’s implied here is the Jesus is to be the one who is to help the man into the pool, essentially giving him an upper hand over and above the multitude that gathers around the pool. 

Now if it sounds like I am being harsh to the crippled man in the story, I want to draw your attention to the fact that John doesn’t seem to take too high a view of the man either, noting that not only does he not even get the name of the man who healed him after 38 years of paralysis, but who, later in the story, informs on Jesus to the authorities so that they might pursue, convict and eventually execute Christ.

And further to this, and I think the point of John’s portrayal of the crippled man is that Jesus’ predominant concern is not of the man’s physical paralysis, but rather, his spiritual paralysis. If you drop down to v.14 we see the following: 

"Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, "See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.'"

That should catch us off guard, shouldn’t it? I mean, Jesus doesn’t even mention the man’s sin in the previous verses related to the healing. So what is the sin that this man needs to repent of? And Further, what greater harm could befall him? Right? I mean shouldn’t we have some sympathy? This man has been crippled for 38 years of his life! And friends, this is where I think John really dials it in for us, and that is, for St John, Sin, is fundamentally a failure to believe that Jesus is who he says he is 

John 3:16-18 : "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God."

So what is Jesus’ concern here? Jesus concern here, for this man, and most importantly, for us today, is that we not expose ourselves to something far greater than temporal paralysis. Eternal paralysis and eternal deadness in our sins. Our endless self-improvement projects, and our desire to do it right all by ourselves, if we aren’t careful, can distract us from putting our trust in the one who can actually save us! 

One of the dangers of believing that it can be all up to us to fix our situations, can be the temptation to believe that it is the effort invested in these resolutions, or the outcomes, that saves us. That somehow, we are going to fix the issue, solve the problem, and better ourselves through effort alone. If we were to add a reformation doctrine here it’s this idea of Sola Boot Strapia, right? Pick yourself up by your bootstraps and solve the problem yourself. If you want something done right, do it yourself!

Jesus isn’t just our accomplice to our ideas for self-improvement, Jesus isn’t the thing or the person we use to get what we really think we need or desire, Jesus is what we really need, Jesus is what we really desire. And just like the paralytic at the pool, Jesus isn’t the one who helps us get to what we think we need, not the one who throws us in the pool, whatever we think that is; Jesus is the one we need. And I think John is keen to point this out…

It’s Not the Water that Saves You, It’s Jesus 

…If we take a close look at what is going on here in the text, we can see a vested interest from John that seeks to guard against our understanding that it is by our efforts, or something we can control that is going to save us. Now why would I think that? The reason can been seen through theme, developed in John, particularly with his use of water imagery that points us in this direction. Let me show you what I mean, hang a quick left in your Bibles in John chapter 1.

In John 1 beginning around the 19th verse we have John the Baptist proclaiming the necessity of baptism, but we see in verse 33 that there is an even greater baptism that is to come:

"I myself did not know him, but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God" (John 1:33-34).

Do you see that? So Baptism is important, yea, even necessary, but it’s not the water that saves you in this case, and indeed, Jesus is shown to be the one who baptizes with the superior element, even person, namely the Holy Spirit. 

In John 2:6 we have record of Jesus’ first miracle, and we are told about 6 pots of water that are set aside for a ceremony of purification. Indeed, this water is consecrated for that purpose, but here we have Jesus, transforming the water, changing it from something set aside for ceremonial washing and instead a concrete symbol of celebration and a marking of the entrance of the inaugurator of the new covenant. So again, water imagery that is superseded by Jesus’ presence. The water at the wedding is good, but you need something better, something greater.

In John 3:5, in Jesus encounter with Nicodemus, Jesus says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” So again, Nicodemus, the water is Good, but you need something greater, something more, it’s not the water that saves you, good as that might be. Do you see a theme developing, John is returning to this water imagery to constantly demonstrate that with the presence of Christ, something greater than the old has come, and it behooves his audience to pay attention to that.

But it doesn’t stop there! John 4 recounts Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, and you can no doubt recall the details of the story, but what does Jesus say to her? "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (John 4:13-14). Jesus, is, in effect saying, yes, this well is important to you Samaritans, and indeed, water itself is important as it can sustain life, but in me and through me there is something more precious than water, living water! And see this ties into our earlier theme that there is something even more serious than temporal, physical paralysis, namely, eternal spiritual paralysis. And Jesus says, I am the well where you draw that deeper, better “water.”

It’s no wonder then that John continues on through his gospel with these images of water coursing and surging through them, finding their climax in John 19:34 when, only John of the gospel writers notes that “one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water." Do you see that, the water, the living water comes from the Christ, mingled with his blood, the superior element, the water washes away the physical blemish, but the blood of Christ washes away the sin.

So when we look at John 5, we can see that John has been working this theme of water to show his readers, “look, I could care less if you think this spring has angelic powers, because something better than an angel is here to heal, it’s the Christ!” That’s why I think John doesn’t bother to include the gloss in his Gospel. It’s not important to him. The cripple is seeking healing in something that can never, has not for 38 years provided healing, and John is saying that healing, that blessing is only found in Christ. 

A Final Note: Why Jesus?

Some of you are here this morning, and you’ve summited some pretty serious mountains of difficulty in your life, only to be face to face with yet more inevitable obstacles; hiding behind many of these obstacles is, no doubt, the fear of failure and disappointment. Right? You’re looking out at this summer and you know that not only are new challenges coming, you’re stuck with the same faults, the same weaknesses and in the same vulnerabilities. And there is going to be the tendency that wells up within you to double down on your own efforts, to pick yourself up by your own bootstraps and to charge down to whatever magical pool of healing you think might save you. And that’s a real tendency, and indeed, some of you might still be hanging around some of these pools just waiting for that water to stir up. 

And maybe some of you are thinking this morning that perhaps Jesus is tired of seeing you by that pool. That maybe in your mind you can recall a time where you really did feel like Jesus was a vibrant and active presence in your life, but since then you, like the crippled man at the pool disregarded his caution and went back to a life of sin. And the very real, and I think appropriate question that can arise from that is, do I have any other recourse than to just try and do this myself? I mean, I tried Jesus and failed, and now, I’ve got one option left, and that’s doing it on my strength and on my own. 

Let me offer just two comments in response to this.

First, I want to gently note that this mode of thinking is predominantly the domain of works righteousness. It’s a decision that says I am going to earn back my place with Christ, that I am going to fix this problem. And friends, what more is this than simple self-righteousness? That we have, within the resources of ourselves the capacity to fix our problem? The ability to get to the pool in time to make everything better?

Second, and I think far more importantly, the repeated, emphatic and over-arching message of the scriptures is that Jesus isn’t tired of you. That Jesus isn’t done with you. That it is the impulse of a loving, tender and compassionate God to send his son to seek and save the lost. I mean, sure, we’ve got a picture of a stubborn and obstinate cripple in the story who scorns the very one who heals him, but how much greater, how much more beautiful is that man, the one who walked through the sheep gate, the one with healing in his hands? The one who condescended, he came down, into our plight, into our world, into our struggle, and not to condemn the world, but through him, the world might be saved? I mean, friends, this isn’t the stern rebuke of an angry and distant demi-urge, this is the flesh and blood, the real and genuine care and compassion of Emmanuel, God with us.

And we see this compassion, which literally means “suffering with” painted throughout the canvas of scripture. Sometimes we see the prophet Isaiah connected with our advent readings, and what does Isaiah say about this man, about this messiah? Isaiah 53:

"He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not" (Isaiah 53:3).

And we’re used to hearing that, right that Jesus is a man of sorrows? Acquainted with grief? But notice especially what Isaiah is doing here in the context, whose grief is Jesus so intimately acquainted with? Just carry over into verse 4:

"Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted" (Isaiah 53:4).

Man, Jesus is here and he’s present and he is familiar with your struggle, with your disappointment, with your ache and your loss. And not just familiar, man he carries them. He willingly submitted himself to the burden. This is why Matthew in chapter 8 picks up on Isaiah’s meaning, where we see that Jesus doesn’t heal one person, he heals many:

"And when Jesus entered Peter’s house, he saw his mother-in-law lying sick with a fever. He touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she rose and began to serve him. That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirits with a word and healed all who were sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: 'He took our illnesses and bore our diseases'" (Matthew 8:14-17).

And not just Isaiah, the shortest verse in all the bible paints in no uncertain terms that Jesus cares about your suffering, John 11:35 “Jesus wept” and the following verse right after notes that this very demonstration shows the Jews how he cared about the loss of Lazarus and how it affected his friends and family. This is why St Peter in his epistle exhorts us to “cast all your cares on him”, why Peter, why would we do that? “because he cares for you.” Man, that pool doesn’t care about you.

And if that isn’t enough then let me leave you with one final reason to seek Christ, to return to Christ, to find your refuge, your healing and your resolve in Christ. You’ll recall that, earlier, we looked a little bit at the question that Jesus asks the cripple at the pool of Bethesda. And you’ll recall, it was a strange question, right? Now some of your minds might have been piqued to a similar question that Jesus asks a blind man in Mark 10, namely “what do you want me to do for you.” Indeed this is similar, but I daresay we can find greater encouragement in Christ’s words to a leper in Mark 1:40-41. Here is just a fleeting glimpse, the smallest of stories, and indeed, a single verb that I think helps us unlock not just some of the meaning of our story in John but our hope in Christ. Here we see that a Leper, approaching Jesus implores Christ to be made clean, and we see these words:

"And a leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, 'If you will, you can make me clean.' Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, 'I will; be clean'" (Mark 1:40-41).

Now, I don’t want to get bogged down in the Greek, but let me just show you this. The word for “will” here can easily, and is often, translated as “want” elsewhere in the New Testament. So look at this verse: there is a sick man, an unclean man, a burdened man, and outcast who approaches Jesus and says “hey if you want to you can heal me.” And Jesus replies, “I want to.” Do you see how this beautifully reverses our text from John? Instead of us, saying with the cripple, of course I want to be healed! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to be set free from this paralysis, we can see Jesus, emphatically stating: do I want to heal you?! Of course! That’s why I am here! I literally want nothing else than to set you free from this paralysis. 

Friends, this transcends the gospel of Mark, it transcends 2000 years of history and meets us here, today. Do you want to be healed? Do you want to be restored? Do you want life and life to the full? Then can I suggest, as a brother and friend in Christ, that you skip the magic pool of a self-help plan and go right to the source. That you ask the God-man himself and receive healing for the physical and the spiritual. Indeed, the whole person.