“Picking Up Our Mats”
John 5:1-9a
I don’t like change.
It scares me.
It’s like diving into the unknown.
When I was a child, my family moved around a lot.
By the time I entered the 6th Grade I had already lived in four different states.
I remember when I moved from Dayton, Ohio to Bowling Green, Kentucky I used to mourn for Ohio.
I put it on a pedestal.
I romanticized it.
I can remember going back to visit Ohio, and picking a blade of grass from the ground at a service station to take home so that I could “take a piece of Ohio” with me—it was as if, in my mind, Ohio was a magical kingdom that was no longer in my grasp.
When I moved from Bowling Green, I did the same thing—except Bowling Green had suddenly become the magical kingdom.
In my mind, life had been perfect there.
It’s easy, I think, to look at the past and think it’s better than what we have now.
“Kid’s these days!”
How many generations of adults have said the exact same thing?
Every generation?
Perhaps.
I’m not saying that some things in the past weren’t better, but we can’t go back in time.
Our world has changed.
I remember the churches I grew up going to.
They were all filled with young families with children, along with the older generations.
Everyone was represented.
And every pew was full.
And the Sauer family, all five of us, always sat in the very front row.
I didn’t especially like sitting in the front row.
I remember asking my mother why we always had to sit in the front.
Her answer?
“Because some people who come into a full sanctuary will not sit in front.
If there are no seats toward the back, they might leave.”
That is missional thinking.
That is Kingdom thinking.
That is the way Christians ought to think.
Sometimes, those of us who have been here for a while need to adjust, make allowances so that others will come in.
After all, the church is not just about us.
The mission of the church is to reach this lost and dying world with the good news of Jesus Christ.
And when we forget our mission—well, we die.
But it’s not easy to make allowances, humble ourselves, move out of the way for others, get out of our comfort zones—to CHANGE!
Of course, Jesus never promised or even hinted that being a Christian was easy.
We are, after all, called to die to self and be raised to new life in Christ.
We are, after all, to take up our Cross and follow Jesus.
Again, even 25 or 30 years ago, it seemed as if every church was full, but that’s not the case anymore.
People don’t come to church these days because they think they have to in order to be culturally accepted.
Actually, it’s the other way around.
Right now, the entire Church of the 21st Century is going through dramatic transition.
Let’s face it, we are not our grandparent’s church anymore.
We aren’t even the Church we were 10 years ago.
Between 6,000 and 10,000 churches in the U.S. are dying each year—closing their doors.
That means around 100-200 churches will close this week.
Something has to change, and it’s not the Gospel.
It’s me.
Perhaps it’s you.
It’s the way we do things.
It’s the way we think about our building.
It’s our traditions.
The progams we have.
The color of the walls.
The music we sing.
It’s about our natural resistance to change.
How many of you have heard someone say, “I want our church to grow I just don’t want it to change.”?
Perhaps you’ve said it yourself.
I know I have.
Our Gospel Lesson for this morning has a lot to do with that dreaded word—CHANGE!
Jesus comes to a pool that was fed by an underground spring, and when the spring overflowed, it would bubble up from below causing a disturbance in the waters above.
In Jesus’ day, there was a legend that this rippling of the waters was caused by the fluttering of angel’s wings, and that the first person to get into the water once it started bubbling would be healed.
There are still places in the world where desperate folks believe in and do similar things.
In any event, Jesus meets a man anear this pool who has been an invalid for 38 years—probably his entire life.
But something strange happens next.
The compassionate Jesus takes a look at the man lying on the ground and asks him a very insensitive question: “Do you want to get well?”
What was Jesus thinking?
“Do you want to get well?”!!!
This poor sick man could have rightfully come back with some sarcastic response like, “Sir, I really enjoy being here completely unable to move!”
Yet there was something about the way Jesus looked at him, something about the way He asked the question, that made it not so foolish a question after-all.
For anyone who has been in some form of rehab before, this question doesn’t seem so unusual.
In fact, this is the pivotal question.
Orthopedists, therapists, coaches, and trainers will all tell us that our healing is ultimately dependent on our willingness to do whatever it takes to get better
Rehabilitation—whether it’s physical or emotional, due to trauma or injury is hard work!
And it takes time.
And it usually involves giving up old ways of being or doing things—it means change!
I mean, this guy has been laying on this mat for 38 years.
Biblical scholar Raymond Brown suggests that this man’s disability is a case of atrophied limbs.
Atrophy is when muscles waste away.
The main reason for muscles wasting is a lack of physical activity.
This can happen when a disease or injury makes it difficult or impossible for you to move an arm or leg.
In any event, it’s going to take a lot of effort for this guy to get up and walk—his muscles won’t be ready and he will be weak.
Also, getting up off his mat will be scary.
He will be stepping into the unknown—new relationships, new routines, new demands.
Healing means change, and change means stepping out of our comfort zones.
Have you ever noticed that sometimes the uncomfortable feels better than the unknown, even if the unknown means things might be better?
We stay in jobs that deplete us because we’ve gotten comfortable.
We stay in relationships that aren’t good for us because they are familiar.
Even dysfunctional families find comfort in their dysfunction because it’s familiar and certain.
So, when Jesus asks this man who has been lying here for years, “Do you want to get well?” He’s asking him and us, “Are you willing to be uncomfortable for a bit?”
“Are you willing to be uncomfortable while your body heals, uncomfortable while you step onto the unknown path, uncomfortable as you let go of what is familiar?”
“Do you want to get well?”
Maybe it wasn’t such a dumb question after-all.
And, notice that the man didn’t give Jesus a direct answer.
He said, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred.
While I am trying to get in, someone else goes before me.”
Why didn’t he just give Jesus a simple answer like, “Yes. I do want to be made well?”
38 years is a long time to be able to settle into a kind of comfort and safety even in misery.
You know, the deeper question Jesus is asking this morning is the ultimate question all of us must answer.
Change can be scary, but it can also be exciting, filled with creativity and great possibility.
Scripture is filled with change, that of a whole people in the Exodus and the Babylonian exile; transitions of leaders, from prophets to kings, from strong leaders to weak, from self-giving to corruption.
And there are many changes that occur in the lives of individuals: Abraham and Sarah having children in their later years; Moses who describes himself as “slow of speech and of tongue” and then courageously leads the Israelites out of Egypt; and the conversion of each of the disciples along with all the early followers.
The stories of change in the Bible go on and on and on.
What did the Apostle Paul say: “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.
I do all this for the sake of the gospel.”
So, we must ask ourselves, “How willing are we to do the same”?
The church is a mission outpost by which God saves the world.
It’s not a country club.
It’s not just a place for like-minded people to “fellowship” with one another.
It’s not a museum for the glory days of the past.
It is a living organism.
And in order for a living organism to grow, it must change.
I mean, isn’t wanting to grow but not really wanting to change actually like saying: “I want to lose weight, but I really want a bacon double cheeseburger?”
Well, yes.
It’s exactly like that.
Again, I don’t want you to get me wrong.
I don’t like change.
I wish we, meaning the church, could do things the way we always did things and get along just fine—make new converts right and left.
But that’s not the way it works.
One person has said that the church, every 500 years goes through major upheaval, tossing out much of the old as God makes us into something new.
The broader church today is going through such an upheaval.
It’s like a “500-year rummage sale.”
But change just for the sake of change is wrong, it won’t work.
The only thing important enough to cause us to change, to motivate us to change, to keep us encouraged in the middle of long-term change, and bring about the needed results of the change is our mission—our mission to help bring the lost, the broken into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ!
If we are just making changes in order to grow numbers, keep up the status quo, keep the doors open, bring in more money—then forget it.
The only change that matters is change for the sake of mission.
That’s why you all have sacrificed so much of your time over the past 18 years taking care of and ministering to middle school children at Safe House!
That is missional thinking.
That is kingdom thinking.
That’s why we are moving ahead with a food pantry.
Wouldn’t be a tragedy if hundreds of people in our community were to go hungry simply because we weren’t willing to make a few changes?
You know, there is something that strikes me about this Gospel story of healing and change.
This man, and all the others who are ill around him are all lying there waiting for what they believe will heal them.
I mean, they invested their lives in waiting beside those waters for healing.
But that was not the answer.
Instead, Jesus is standing right there with the only REAL HEALING.
But maybe we have something else in mind.
Maybe we don’t really want to be made well after all.
Jesus asks us the question today: “Do you really want to make a difference for Christ in this community?”
Jesus deserves an honest answer.
The saving of souls will come on God’s terms, not ours.
And it will involve change—change, that, perhaps will make us a bit uncomfortable at first.
It’s really a question of faith, is it not?
Can we trust God to change some things about this church?
Can we let go of our own fear of change and allow God to make all things new?
If we want to make a difference in this community for the sake of Jesus Christ, then we must cooperate with God’s power, with God’s will.
Jesus said to the man, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”
Isn’t it time we did the same?
