Why did Jesus ask the man at the Pool of Bethesda, "Do you want to be made well?" (John 5:6)?

Ever since sin entered the world the God of all grace has laboured, and will continue His labour until sin and all its bitter fruits are for ever banished out of His realm; then will He keep His long and unbroken sabbath of eternity - "He will rest in His love; He will joy over thee with singing;" but this could not be in the day of our chapter. Love cannot but be active so long as there is a need or sorrow to call it forth; and so it was as Jesus passed through those dismal porches of Bethesda. No Jewish ritual or Jewish hatred could check the activity of His love; with a dignity above it all He moved. He had come to do His Father's will, to reveal the Father's love, and He finds in the misery before Him a suited occasion for its display. Nothing can exceed its beauty. He singles out the most pitiable case - one who was "without strength," and had "no man" to help him. How like a Saviour to select this case out of all others to display His power and goodness. "Wilt thou be made whole?" says Jesus. What a strange question to ask! We should have thought the question of willingness lay all on the other side; but so it is, however it may surpass our thoughts. Jesus is more willing to save than sinners are to be saved. He came to save; His very mission from the glory was to bring down the grace and power of God to relieve poor man from the misery under which he lay, and so here He seeks one who is willing for Him to exercise His mission upon.

Amazed that such a question should be asked him, the man replies, "Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool." Although this divine visitation was brought so near him, he had not enough strength to avail himself of it, nor one who was sufficiently above his state to assist him; but, blessed be God, there now stood by his side One who could not be numbered among the fallen race - Son of man, it is true, but also Son of God. In grace He had come down to "destroy the works of the devil," and deliver poor man from his grasp. No sooner is there the confession of his helplessness and an implied willingness than the word is spoken, "Rise, take up thy bed, and walk."

There were needs in Israel at that time, needs of the soul, as well as of the body, and a consciousness of these needs. The Lord could say, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The poor paralytic man is the type and figure of this. In order that the object of the blessings which were enjoyed under the law should be able to profit by them, he must have power in himself. Whether it be to have righteousness according to the law, or whether to enjoy other blessings, there must be, in the man who wished to possess them, a subjective state fitted for this; there must be power in man. The paralytic man's disease had deprived him of that power which was necessary in order to profit by the means of healing. It is the same thing as to sin. The blessings and means which the law offers, demand strength in man. The desire to be healed is supposed - "Wilt thou be made whole?" The Lord puts the question thus. Power was wanting, as in Romans 7, to will was present. Jesus brings with Him the power that heals; the good which He does, does not demand power in us. It was when we were deprived of all strength that His grace acted. (See Romans 5:6.) In John, we must remember, it is a question of life; even when he speaks of the cross, it is for eternal life, not for pardon.

A man was here at the pool, but the character of his sickness was such that it had taken away his strength, so that the sickness from which he wanted healing had taken away the power to use the means of being healed. It was not a question of being willing - he was willing enough; but this disease had taken away the power of using the remedy. The great thing we have to learn is, that "when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly." We are slow to learn this - that we have no strength. The first man you meet in the street wilt own that he is a sinner, but if you tell him there is no strength in the flesh, he wilt think you are going to condemn him to be a sinner all his life.

I do not know a more precious word in the spirit and character of it than this portion. The poor man had been ill thirty-eight years. The Lord asks, "Wilt thou be made whole?" He had the will, but explains he had no strength. Christ brings the strength with Him. This is what is so distinctly and definitely brought out in contrast with the law.

"Wilt thou be made whole?" was the only word which the Lord took with Him when He addressed the poor cripple at that place. Was he ready to put himself, just as he was, into His hand? Was he willing to be His debtor? Could he trust himself, with his need and infirmity, alone with Jesus? This was all. And surely this, in its simplicity, is in complete and full contrast with the cumbrous, weighty machinery of Bethesda. No rivalry, no delay, no uncertainty, no help sought and rendered, are here as they are there. Here with Christ it is, "Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life." It is, "Why tarriest thou? Arise and be baptized, and wash away thy sins." But neither of these voices, nor any thing like them, is heard from the troubled bosom of that strange, mysterious water. The Angel that stirred it at certain seasons had never awakened such sounds as these.

"Wilt thou be made whole?" Simple, and weighty, and full of consolation!

What a scramble there would be at every season, and what disappointment, and amongst the disappointed ones was our cripple. How many times during those years he had fallen back in his misery we do not know, but at last he seemed to be reduced to despair. Did he think that Jesus was but a passing stranger interested in his helplessness when He asked him, “ Wilt thou be made whole? ” If He had been only that, such a question would have been a mockery; but, because of who He was, two things transpired: first, the confession of the man's despair; then the mercy of the Lord that met him there.

Yes, the man had lost all hope, and the Lord's question does not seem to have pleased him over-much, for it did seem from the man's point of view, an unnecessary one, “Sir,” he answers. “ I have no man , when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me” (John 5:7). My own efforts have all proved vain, and there is not a man who cares a straw for me. As he lay in his helplessness his language might well have been: “O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (Rom. 7:24). “ I have no man. ”

What a scramble there would be at every season, and what disappointment, and amongst the disappointed ones was our cripple. How many times during those years he had fallen back in his misery we do not know, but at last he seemed to be reduced to despair. Did he think that Jesus was but a passing stranger interested in his helplessness when He asked him, "Wilt thou be made whole?" If He had been only that, such a question would have been a mockery; but, because of who He was, two things transpired: first, the confession of the man's despair; then the mercy of the Lord that met him there.

Yes, the man had lost all hope, and the Lord's question does not seem to have pleased him over-much, for it did seem from the man's point of view, an unnecessary one, "Sir," he answers. "I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me" (John 5:7). My own efforts have all proved vain, and there is not a man who cares a straw for me. As he lay in his helplessness his language might well have been: "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" (Rom. 7:24). "I have no man."

The angelical ministration of the Jews, and all that required the exertion of man, failed as a remedy for evil when there was real destitution and need, what required it most and called out most compassion. It came to "I have not," for he was "under his infirmity." The Lord knew this, He had compassion, He felt for such. The point only He puts is, "Wouldest thou become well?"

But there was one man, in the midst of this impotent throng, so far gone, so feeble and helpless, that the pool of Bethesda could not meet his case. "A certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he says to him, Wilt thou be made whole?" — What grace and power in this question! It went far beyond the utmost stretch of the impotent man's thoughts. He thought only of human help, or of his own ability to get into the pool. He knew not that the speaker was above and beyond the pool, with its occasional movement; beyond angelic ministry, beyond all human help and effort, the Possessor of all power in heaven and on earth. "The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steps down before me." What a true picture of all those who are seeking salvation by ordinances! Each one doing the best he could for himself. No care for others. No thought of helping them. "Jesus says to him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath."

"Now there is in Jerusalem, at the sheep-gate, a pool, which is called in Hebrew, Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a multitude of sick, blind, lame, withered, awaiting the moving of the water. For an angel descended at a certain season in the pool and troubled the water. Whoever therefore first went in after the troubling of the water became well, whatever disease he laboured under." Yet there was One amongst them whom they knew not, mightier than the angel who troubled the waters, but He was not waited for; His mission, indeed, was not dependent on the thoughts of men; He had come to minister unto others, and to give His life a ransom for many. "Wilt thou be made whole?" He says to the poor man. The will was indeed present with him, but the impossibility of man was with him also. And there was "no man" to help. As was said of the poor prodigal, "no man gave unto him." And in the most interesting connection possible, His own Spirit speaks in the prophet, "When I came was there no man." No! there is "no man," whether the need of man demands it, or the call of God waits for an answer. The only Hope of Israel, as of man, was indeed in their midst, but unknown and unrecognised by man. To Him the Lord God had given the tongue of the learned, that He should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary. And here was a poor wearied one listening to the word of the Lord God from the tongue of the learned, from Jesus Himself — "Wilt thou be made whole?"

But the withered were there also. The blight of death was on them. Sin had accomplished its dread work, and while men waited for the moving of the water, it was busy paying its unwelcome wages. Who could meet it in its work of destruction? No one surely but the Life-giver. Who could send the warm pulse of life bounding through the withered frame, and bring the bloom of health upon the pallid cheek but the Son of God, the author of life? God’s Bethesda was in Jesus. His poor sheep were in the market. They were being bought and sold; they were being killed, stolen, and destroyed, under the very eyes of the Good Shepherd. And He is moved with compassion, and comes amongst them with thoughts of deliverance, His great love making Him, as it were, regardless that it was the Sabbath day, a day in which at least the letter of the law said, “Thou shalt not do any work.”

Life and strength, and light and healing were come in His Person. Hence there is no question to ask but one, and that is, “Wilt thou be made whole?” Would the proud heart of man allow him to submit himself to be a subject of the work of God? God was speaking by Jesus. It was difficult for this poor impotent creature to lift his thoughts from the pool. For thirty-eight years he had lain beside it. It had been continually in his thoughts. All his expectations were from it. It had been of no service to him, but he knew no other means of deliverance. He cleaved to it, as men cleave to the law, and the fulfilment of their obligations. God is directing attention to Jesus and to His grace in Him, but all to no purpose as far as the great mass of men is concerned. If salvation is spoken of, they cannot think of arriving at in any other way than by their works of righteousness; if forgiveness is declared, they hope to merit it. And yet they are often conscious that they have got no relief on such lines. They are no nearer blessing than ever they were. But they are unwilling to think that God will have them as they are, and that His grace alone can save.

“Rise, take up thy bed and walk.” What powerful words! The man is strengthened. Power thrills through his long enfeebled frame. In figure he is placed on the footing of resurrection. He had known what the weakness of death meant. He is now in the vigour of life. He carries his bed; that which was an evidence of his weakness, becomes the witness of the power given to him by Christ.