Hello friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks,
Welcoming you to day 15 of our Lenten journey through the Gospel of John in the wilderness,
Still held.
As we come together to begin today,
I invite you to take a slow breath in,
And gently let it go.
Allow your body to settle.
Let your shoulders soften,
Your jaw unclench,
Your body relax.
There's nowhere else you need to be right now,
Just here in the presence of God.
Today,
We sit beside a pool.
In John chapter 5,
Jesus approaches a man who has been ill for 38 years.
That's nearly four decades when you look at it.
Long enough for suffering to stop feeling temporary.
Long enough for the suffering to become normal.
Long enough for the suffering to shape how you see yourself,
And certainly how others in your community and neighbourhood see you as well.
So this illness has become intrinsically linked to this man's identity.
He was the man who could not walk,
The one who lay beside the pool,
The one who always needed help.
And Jesus asks him a question that almost sounds unnecessary.
He says,
Do you want to be made well?
And it's a very thoughtful and tender question too,
Because while healing might be beautiful,
It can also be disorientating.
If you've lived inside a particular pain for years,
Emotional,
Relational,
Spiritual,
It can become really familiar,
Even predictable.
You know how to survive there.
You know the shape of that space.
You know what each day requires now,
Because it's really all you've ever known.
Wholeness,
On the other hand,
If you've never had it before,
Is now unfamiliar territory.
And when you think about it,
Sometimes we cling to what hurts because it's predictable.
Just stay with that gently for a moment,
And notice where it might be true in you.
Sometimes we cling to what hurts because it's predictable.
Now Jesus in no way wants to debate theology with this guy either.
He doesn't try and analyse his past,
Or try and reflect on what caused this thing.
He simply says to the man an invitation,
Extends it to him,
Stand up,
Take up your mat,
And walk.
This is participation.
He says to the man,
Get up.
Up to this point,
The mat had carried him,
And now Jesus asks this fella to carry the mat.
The very thing that once defined what he's become,
Becomes the thing that he now holds lightly.
Now again,
This is important because we need to ask the question,
Where has our own pain quietly become part of who we think we are?
Where have we said,
Perhaps without words,
This is just who I am.
This is how I'll always be.
This is my place.
Just sit with that again,
Softly,
For a moment.
Now in the wilderness,
Old labels are stripped away before new ones can emerge.
The wilderness is uncomfortable precisely because it removes what once named us.
We aren't slaves,
But we haven't yet settled.
Like Israel,
We've come out of the slavery land,
But we're not quite in the promised land yet.
We're no longer who we were,
But we haven't fully become what we're meant to be,
And healing can feel like that.
When something in you begins to shift,
A pattern loosens,
A fear softens,
A new courage flickers,
And it can feel unstable.
You might even feel the temptation to shrink back into that old familiar version of yourself.
Many people secretly fear the unfamiliarity of what it means to be made whole,
And it comes down to,
If we're not that person,
Then who am I?
If I'm not the anxious one,
Who am I?
If I'm not the overlooked one,
Who am I?
If I'm not the wounded one,
Who am I?
And once again,
It's worth pausing and asking ourselves the question,
What might be trying to rise in us right now?
Perhaps it's confidence or truth-telling.
Perhaps it's rest or joy without apology.
You don't have to force it.
Jesus' command is firm,
But it's not harsh.
He says,
Get up.
Stand.
There's strength in that,
But there's also belief.
He speaks as if the man can rise.
Hear that for yourself.
There may be something in you that's ready to stand,
Even if it's slowly,
Even if it's trembling.
The question is,
Can you allow healing without needing to control what comes next?
Stand.
Lift what once held you down.
Take a step.
Imagine yourself gently rising.
Feel your feet beneath you.
Notice what it's like to stand in a slightly new way.
This is walking in to a new story.
It's not pretending the past didn't matter.
It's just that you're not confined by it anymore.
Take one more slow breath in,
Receiving courage,
And as you breathe out,
Release the identity that's too small for who you are becoming in God.
You're allowed to outgrow former versions of yourself,
You know.
You're allowed to walk forward.
And in these final few moments,
Hear those words again and allow them to echo gently within you.
Stand up.
Take your mat.
Walk.
And when you're ready,
I invite you to rise into your day,
Quietly moving and carrying the strength of what you are becoming.
And may grace,
Peace,
And love buoy you and go with you as you walk in that strength today and every day.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
God be with you.
