And therein lay the healing.

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This morning’s gospel John 5:1-16, was broken down into an amazing insight.  At least for this guy.  You can always read the words but unless deeper perspectives from others are offered and shared in a meaningful way, you may find yourself living in quite the linear manner. 

The intention within this biblical discourse is apparent.  But when other ways of looking at this particular interaction at a healing pool in Bethesda are provided, the connection takes on a whole new mass.  It truly reflects what the name literally means, “house of mercy, or grace.” 

“Do you want to be well?”

The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; while I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me.”

Father pointed out that the man, invalided for thirty-eight some years, did not answer His question.  Instead, he went on to describe his life, wrought of isolation, abandonment and hopelessness.  Not just that I have no one to help me into the pool, but pure and simple, “I have no one”.  

Father suggested that perhaps when he was younger, family may have helped him move about to partake in some of these healing moments in the water.  But now, approaching the middle of his life, he is essentially by himself. 

Alone.  

“While I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me”, emphasizing the utter disregard of others and his worthlessness to society. 

Imagine that.

Not just crippled for life, immovable and unable. But deemed unneeded, untouchable and unloved.  Being so crippled by that horrific experience that he didn’t even hear the question posed.

And it wasn’t asked a second time either.  He just healed him and sent him on his way.  Too bad some of that healing didn’t waft its way over to the clerics admonishing him for having the audacity to carry his mat, for the first time in his life, on the sabbath. 

Crippled may carry with it the connotation of strictly physical limitations.  But it may come to impart its will on one’s mental or emotional state.  Perhaps even spiritually.  It can be an all inclusive state.

So while He mended his body, He truly mended the man’s spirit.  Giving him life in more ways than one. We are all asked to do the same.  To be there for others.

One way alms were described to me was to simply give of yourself.  Your time.  Your empathy and compassion.  And therein lay the healing. support.  Your love.  Your presence. All forms of personal wealth we can access and share abundantly without ever breaking the bank.

So when you find yourself in a house of grace, do your part to offer alms of healing as best as you can.

You will never be expected to say ““Stand up, take your mat and walk.”

That is what He does. 

But you can definitely listen with true compassion, offer them support and love, and help them to rise from defeat and isolation.  

Simply be present for them, in that house of mercy.

For He would want you to.  

And therein lay the healing.

Into truly safe harbor.

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As I shared prior, this time of year brings with it an abundance of learning.  The tenets of these forty days provide a way to sincerely approach the remaining three hundred and twenty five.  True and absolute connection.  

This for one such example:

Towards the beginning of his reading, “…the water flowed down from the right side of the temple, south of the altar.”  

Concluding with this revelation, “…for they shall be watered by the flow from the sanctuary.”

Though it was not yet Good Friday and a Roman lance had yet to pierce and make the flow transpire, this offering from Ezekial five hundred some years prior, beautifully ascribes the origins of His life giving font of life. 

Not simply a trickle. But rather, growing in all manner and form. Ever flowing from His body, becoming tributary providing for all the one true sanctuary of life.  

It’s not about testing the waters. Or letting them take you away. 

It’s about allowing His loving current draw you near. 

Into truly safe harbor. 

Just not for me.

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Daily writing prompt
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
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I might consider taking a plane, train and automobile if I could pal around with Neal and Del along the way. Would definitely bring my own pillow.

After being on planes for business much of my professional life, doing that really wouldn’t float my boat. Then I would have to get pods and PJ’s and slippers. There is something appealing about trains, but it is like you are encased. You can see out, but not sure if they will let you roll the windows down. Same with a bus. Not on a track, but kinda like a train on wheels.

When I did have a choice for business travel, I would gravitate towards cars. Control of music and windows, take an exit to some place that looked intriguing, cold call around a desolate industrial park. Just kind of like a true adventure. Way more relaxed. With phones the way they are these days, you could talk to anyone anywhere as you made your way towards, I don’t know, Arcade, NY.

I do like the prospects of the bike however. Wonder if Google maps features a non-knucklehead route across the country. But then again, I don’t think I would want my phone on me. No music either. Just the sound of the wind, the warmth of the sun and the splat of the bugs on my face. Perhaps a puppy or two inspiring me to sprint from certain destruction on the pavement. That would truly be rejuvenating.

So to circumvent potential Road America drivers, maybe stick a rack on the car, take the bike to some wide open spaces, ride the day, then pack up and head off to the next adventure. For this old fart, that would be the way to go cross-country.

Sorry Neal.

Sorry Dell.

Upon further review.

Just not for me.

Thank God.

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Daily writing prompt
Who is the most confident person you know?
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There have been many in my life. Names, times and instances are in escape mode as we speak. On occasion, I may have even fit some of the bill. Well, at least in my mind I did. Fiction.

But there is one that has shown a true sense of confidence for quite some time. Not simply in what goes on around me. But more so, just in me. So much so that second chances are pretty much permenant and ongoing.

Thank God.

Boy do they ever.

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This time of year is especially wondrous for me.

I veered off this path for whatever reason some years back. If you are not present, you cannot appreciate where you are and what what you are becoming. Shiny things can appear and once they begin to catch on and command your attention, they multiply. Hiding honesty about a past and inhibiting the truth yet to be. My focus is much better. I am seeing things for what they are.

These past twenty seven days have been illuminating to say the least. Things are different. The written and spoken word have new meaning and depth. Cannot say I have the answers, but man do things make some semblance of sense. Finally. Just keep that clock ticking so I can experience more.

Please.

So, there was the story in John this week about His encounter with a man, blind since birth. I read many of the reflections shared about it and the significance and meaning of His gift. It found a home in my thoughts that have since grown to become some rare and perpetual insight for this old man.

We are all of the earth. And once it is our time, to that we shall return.

But in the interim, by no means is our vision meant to be held solely to those worldly matters. Dirt for lack of a better term. I cannot speak to the man who came into being on this earth blind. But it struck me that He made a hyrdating compress consisting of dirt and His holy water and applied it directly to his afflicted vision. He wished him to be held souly to what He saw in and for him.

Those that pranced about in their costumes and “Holy” garb monitored His actions closely. Taking account of his sabbath violations and untoward behavior. Actually tending to those that needed it most no matter the penalties that would be accrued towards and against Him. Strange how they too were blind to what was really happening. Pride, position, status and most of all – ego – blend themselves into a compress of blindness all their own. Distorting sight to an appreciation of only those things to be had here. Of this earth.

So the man of no known origins, once gifted his heavenly mud pack, was then sent to Siloam. To bathe and allow the waters to cleanse him. Baptismal in nature? A washing away of the sins of this world, emphatically covering his eyes, so that he could finally possess sight? Not just things of this world. But actually “see” what life can be here and now, using a loving mold of His making.

To bad those adorned in the dirt of this world refused to take heed of the same exact offering. Too offensive a suggestion to remove the attire of earthly desires so they too could actually see. Chances are, many if not all of them were too blind since birth. If I can be honest, that seems to have been my challenge as well. So caught up with ego and what is made only here that I was never able to see what is given so that I may last forever. Grace that will shepard us far beyond the dirt from whence we came.

He applied it to my eyes long ago. I just never consented to listening so that I would consent to wash it away. Didn’t think I needed to. Afterall, I was in charge. Plus, it would have violated my personal sabbath rules and regimen. My pharisee-ical nature would never have allowed that.

Consent isn’t so much the correct word. It means I have control. Talk about misnomers.

Acceptance is far more like it.

Since I let go, He removed the dirt. An ongoing baptism if you will.

And with that, things sure look so different.

Boy do they ever.