Hello my friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks.
Welcome to day 16 of our Lent 2026 series,
In the Wilderness,
Still Hell,
As we walk through to Easter in the Gospel of John.
As we begin,
Let's just take a few moments to settle ourselves,
Take a nice deep slow breath in and out,
Let your body settle where you are,
Notice your weight pressing into the chair or the floor or wherever you are,
Hands resting gently,
Nothing you need to achieve for these next few minutes,
Just a willingness to be here and now.
And we continue today with the man who's been ill for 38 years in John chapter 5,
Lying near the pool of Bethesda,
Surrounded by others who are also waiting,
Waiting for the water to move,
Waiting for change,
Waiting for something to happen,
Just waiting.
Jesus looks at him and asks a question that feels almost unnecessary,
Do you want to be well?
At a first glance,
As we noticed yesterday,
That question can seem really strange.
Of course,
He wants to be made well,
Why else would he be there?
But notice the man's response,
He doesn't say yes,
He begins to explain,
He explains why he can't get into the water,
He explains how others get there before him,
He explains his circumstances,
He answers with reason,
But he doesn't seem to answer with the desire that Jesus' questions should have stirred in his heart.
Now let's pause here for a moment,
How often do we do this same thing?
When something in us is stuck,
When a pattern has been with us for years,
When we feel weary in the same place,
We can become fluent in explanation.
We can describe our history,
The obstacles that have come up against us,
We can recount the disappointments we've had to face,
And sometimes without realising it,
The explanation becomes the place that's safer than the change that's being offered.
And maybe that's because change asks something of us,
Healing asks something of us.
It asks for participation,
It asks that we take some responsibility and it asks that we give some vulnerability.
We might ask ourselves the question,
If I become well,
What then?
Who will I be?
What will define me?
Will I no longer be able to lay blame?
And as we noted yesterday,
Remaining unwell can sometimes feel safer than stepping into the unknown.
But friend,
No,
That's not because you love suffering or I love suffering,
It's because it's familiar.
We know it.
So I invite you to take a slow breath here and imagine yourself in that scene.
The heat of the day,
The sound of the water,
The quiet hum around you as you're waiting and Jesus turns towards you.
Note that his voice isn't harsh or impatient,
It's just clear.
Do you want to be well?
And as you hear that question,
Friend,
Notice what rises in you.
And when you think of that area in which you want to be made well,
Where you'd like to be made whole,
How do you react?
Do you begin explaining?
Do you find yourself listing the reasons it hasn't happened?
Are you feeling defensive,
Tired?
Maybe you do feel hopeful.
There's no wrong response here,
Just your awareness.
And I invite you to take a moment to listen carefully to what rises in your heart right now.
The wilderness,
That interior place that we've been walking through these last couple of weeks,
And we'll continue to walk through in the next couple of weeks,
Has a way of removing our rehearsed answers.
In the wilderness,
There's no distractions,
Fewer people to compare ourselves with and fewer ways to avoid the deeper questions that we get asked.
The wilderness brings us face to face with our true desire.
This isn't performance or image or the story we tell about why things are the way they are,
But our clear,
Plain desire.
What do you actually want?
Where are you more comfortable explaining rather than changing?
Where are you rehearsing reasons instead of risking movement in step with God?
And now another question.
When am I afraid that healing might ask too much of me?
If my resentment softened,
If the pattern shift,
If the illness was taken away,
What responsibility would I need to take?
What conversations might I need to have?
What boundaries may I need to set?
What step might I need to risk?
Sometimes,
We're not resisting the healing,
But we're resisting the life that would follow after it and the things we may have to do.
Just stay with that again gently.
And now imagine Jesus asking you again,
Do you want to be well?
And this time,
Allow yourself to answer as simply as you can.
What would you say?
You might say,
Yes.
You might say,
I want to want to.
You might say,
I'm afraid.
You might say,
I don't know.
Whatever rises in you,
Just let it be true.
This,
My friend,
Is the courage to stop hiding behind explanations and let your real desire be seen,
Possibly by yourself,
Possibly for the very first time.
In the gospel,
Jesus tells the man,
Stand up,
Take your mat,
And walk.
There is participation in this healing.
He's invited to move.
Jesus doesn't shame him for his years of waiting.
There's no argument with his explanation when he tells Jesus everything except the answer to the question.
Jesus just simply invites this person to move forward and that same invitation rests with you.
Take one more slow breath.
Feel your body again,
Your feet,
Your hands,
The rhythm of your breathing.
And as you move back into your day,
Carry this question gently with you.
Do I want to be well?
And beneath that,
Am I willing to answer honestly?
May you have the courage to desire your wholeness.
May you trust that healing is not a demand placed upon you,
But an invitation extended to you.
And may grace,
Peace,
And love always be with you,
Always surround you,
Always holding you,
And always keep you safe today and every day.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
My friend,
May your yes,
However small,
Be enough for today.
Until tomorrow.
Bye for now.
