Do you want to get well? - A Sermon
Written and delivered by Jay Horton, M.Div. for Cumming First United Methodist Church on Sunday, on May 25, 2025
John 5:1-15: Sabbath Healing (CEB)
1 After this there was a Jewish festival, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2 In Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate in the north city wall is a pool with the Aramaic name Bethsaida. It had five covered porches, 3 and a crowd of people who were sick, blind, lame, and paralyzed sat there. 4 Sometimes an angel would come down to the pool and stir up the water. Then the first one going into the water after it had been stirred up was cured of any sickness. 5 A certain man was there who had been sick for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there, knowing that he had already been there a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”
7 The sick man answered him, “Sir, I don’t have anyone who can put me in the water when it is stirred up. When I’m trying to get to it, someone else has gotten in ahead of me.”
8 Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” 9 Immediately the man was well, and he picked up his mat and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath.
10 The Jewish leaders said to the man who had been healed, “It’s the Sabbath; you aren’t allowed to carry your mat.”
11 He answered, “The man who made me well said to me, ‘Pick up your mat and walk.’”
12 They inquired, “Who is this man who said to you, ‘Pick it up and walk’?” 13 The man who had been cured didn’t know who it was, because Jesus had slipped away from the crowd gathered there.
14 Later Jesus found him in the temple and said, “See! You have been made well. Don’t sin anymore in case something worse happens to you.” 15 The man went and proclaimed to the Jewish leaders that Jesus was the man who had made him well.
How many of you have seen the 2004 film 50 First Dates? You know, the one with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler?
It’s about a young woman named Lucy (Drew Barrymore’s character) who was in a car wreck over a year ago and, because of a serious head injury, is living the same day on repeat. Not wanting to disturb her reality too much, everyone in the town just accommodates her.
Every morning, they lay out the same newspaper from Sunday, Oct. 13—the day she’s stuck in—when she had her brain injury—her father’s birthday. They allow her to bake a cake for him. They watch a recording of the big football game from that day, every day. She was an art teacher and loves to paint. She creates a mural every day in their family shed, and every night her brother and father paint over it—just so she can paint it again the next day—so that everything stays the same old, same old.
That is, until Henry Roth (Adam Sandler’s character) spots her in the local diner. He thinks she’s beautiful and begins inviting her into new ways of living. At first, they’re kind of silly—offering a “waffle door” for her “waffle castles” she makes every morning, or faking car trouble just to talk to her on the way home from the café.
He’s the first to really ask, “Maybe her days don’t have to be so bad?”
Her father and brother are initially skeptical, but eventually they realize that every time Lucy sees and interacts with Henry, her daily activities—ones that once seemed rote—start to become more joy-filled. She sings. She’s happier. Every day becomes more unique. And with a little forethought and intention from Henry and her family—videos and journaling to remind her where they all have been together—Lucy’s days start to build on one another.
And not to spoil too much of the film, but Lucy, Henry, her father, and brother—the whole town, really—learns that life can be more than what they ever imagined.
In today’s Gospel lesson, we read about Jesus coming across a man who has been sick for a lot longer than Lucy—38 years, to be exact. He’s lying by the pool of Bethsaida, a sacred place known for healing.
It is said in some translations of Scripture, “that sometimes an angel would come down to the pool and stir up the water. Then the first one going into the water after it had been stirred up was cured of any sickness.”
And while the text doesn’t say exactly how many of those 38 years the man spent by the pool, the Scripture alludes that he can’t move well, so I feel it’s safe to assume many—many—of his years were spent by the Sheep Gate, waiting for his life to be different.
He, too, like Lucy, is living a life on repeat, so to speak.
Day after day, he watches and waits for someone—some angel—to come and stir the pool.
When Jesus sees him, he somehow knows this man’s situation. Maybe it’s because Jesus is God’s son and has some telepathic ability, or maybe—more likely—it’s a common situation for people by this pool, common for people with this man’s illness.
So, Jesus asks the man, “Do you want to get well?”
It’s a question with so much meaning—get well. It goes beyond physical healing. It touches on the desire for wholeness, restoration, reconciliation—right relationship with God and the world.
“Do you want to get well?”
The man answers very matter-of-factly, almost making excuses—there’s really no way. No one will help me. I am helpless. Life can’t possibly get any better than this.
Jesus denies this reality for the man, saying in fewer words, Sir, you are not helpless. “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”
The Scripture says immediately the man is “made well.” Whether through physical healing, mental relief, the easing of emotional or spiritual trauma, or all of the above, the man is now able to move from the Sheep Gate. He is no longer stuck by the pool of Bethsaida.
It’s easy for our circumstances to immobilize us, isn’t it? To limit what’s possible in life, in love, and for our collective futures. How often are we like Lucy—or like the man by the Sheep Gate—stuck doing the same old, same old because it’s what we know or because we haven’t heard the invitation to do anything different?
Over the past 10 years of ministry (I know I don’t look that old), I’ve seen this countless times: parishioners immobilized by their personal or communal circumstances.
There’s a lot of: I cannot be made well because my work doesn’t pay enough, or our church cannot grow because the youth director or our pastors aren’t bringing in enough young people.
What’s often missing is the recognition of agency in the story—maybe with a little shift in perspective, maybe with ears attuned to the invitation to live or do church differently, we could flourish.
What would rearranging the personal budget or taking on the task of inviting young people to church ourselves do for building a healthier future?
Working at Georgia Interfaith Power & Light (GIPL), I’m regularly faced with this reality. Despite “the overwhelming majority of young Americans worrying about the climate crisis,” and more than half in a recent survey from Lancet Planetary Health saying “their concerns about the environment will affect where they decide to live and whether to have children,” as a collective society we still aren’t taking the issue seriously enough.
Human-caused climate change is warming our planet. Burning an exorbitant amount of fossil fuels is causing more frequent wildfires and extreme weather, rising sea levels, and changes in biodiversity. And it’s happening because we keep doing the same old, same old. Living life on repeat—because it’s what we’re comfortable with.
But it’s not like we don’t have the solutions. It’s not like Christ-like people aren’t echoing the words of our Savior, asking, “Do you want to be made well?” Do you want to find wholeness?
“Get up! Take your mat and walk.”
Drawdown Georgia, a statewide initiative working to catalyze a Georgia beyond carbon, has done the research. They list 20 high-impact climate solutions that will make a difference in our state and mitigate against more Hurricane Helenes, for example.
These solutions are what GIPL bases all our programs on. They include things like solar, energy efficiency retrofits, composting, recycling, waste management, planting trees and wetlands protection, and switching to electric vehicles.
And it’s work you all are already doing here at Cumming First United Methodist Church. Thanks to amazing, passionate people like Chuck and Lynn Pugh, you’ve participated in our Power-Wise program and received grants to upgrade to LED light bulbs and improve your campus’s building automation system, so lights and air only turn on when people are using them.
You’ve also participated in the pilot for our ReWilding program and are working to plant fruit trees and community gardens to provide fresh produce for your food pantry—serving your neighbors in need.
You should be proud of this work—living into our United Methodist Social Principles and “affirming our sacred calling to be responsible stewards and to lovingly tend all that God has wrought.”
The question becomes, where is God inviting each of you to go next? How can you bring these lessons to the wider Georgia community—that caring for the Earth means caring for our neighbors, too? Because let me tell you, not everyone gets it like y’all do.
Similar to the story, some leaders will criticize you, like they did the man, for doing things differently—for taking ownership of your life—for saying no, I’m not going to wait any longer to get well, to cut emissions, to improve the nutrition of our community, and to take up our mats and walk.
The more hands that work in our gardens, take responsibility for purchasing practices (we need to cut out the plastic), and advocate for policies that support clean energy development in Georgia (we don’t need more expensive fossil fuels), the more people will be able to take up their mats and live longer, healthier, more fulfilling lives.
Friends, Christ is inviting us into a new life. We United Methodists are people of grace, are we not? We will soon partake in the sacrament of Holy Communion. The first part of that Great Thanksgiving is this invitation—an ask: Do you want to be made well?
“Christ invites to the table all who love him, who earnestly repent of their sin and seek to live in peace with one another.”
Do you want to be made well?
We refer to it as prevenient grace—a preceding grace—the grace that goes before. Arms open wide, it says, “Come. Be made whole.” God extends this grace to everyone. And when we accept it, we are justified. Things balance out.
No, life may not look the same as before. But we are walking again, more than likely in ways we never imagined. And the beauty is, we don’t walk alone.
You may note in the story that Jesus doesn’t leave the man. Sure, he slips away for a time, but then finds the man again later. This is the sanctifying, perfecting grace—the grace that continues to work on us throughout our lives.
Curiously, Jesus says to the man when he sees him again, “Don’t sin anymore, in case something worse happens to you.”
Some theologians think the man’s sickness is a punishment for sin. I don’t buy it. Rather, if we think of sin as separation from God—an imbalance in our relationship with our Creator—then this too becomes an invitation to live a holy life. A life of responsible living, of sanctification—of treating our neighbors and our Common Home with respect and dignity.
Sure, the world can feel overwhelming and unfair, or even at times, on fire. But the invitation remains the same: Do you want to be made well?
Cumming First United Methodist Church, do you want to be made well?
Wait, I couldn’t hear you. I said: Do you want to be made well?
Then “Get up! Take your mat and walk.”
Walk with Jesus. Walk the way of love, of care, of compassion—for the Earth and for all your neighbors.
I promise, you will find healing. But first, you must accept help. Accept that things may look different. And together, with God and one another, we can create a world where all living things flourish.
In the name of the Creator, the Christ, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
