Easter 6C 2025

Text: “6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?”” (John 5:6).

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Introduction

It is a strange question to ask someone who has been suffering for thirty-eight years. Jesus sees the man lying beside the pool at Bethesda and says, “Do you want to be made well?”

We are used to Jesus asking good questions. Questions that cut through the noise. Questions that pierce the heart. But at first glance, this one feels almost cruel. Why would you ask such a thing? Of course he wants to be healed—does he not?

But Jesus is not asking to gain information. He already knows. He is asking to bring the man’s desire—or lack of it—into the open. “Do you want to be made whole?” It is a question that reveals more than the man probably wanted to admit: that he may have grown numb to hope, that he may have adjusted to brokenness, that he may not have really expected healing anymore. He had reasons. He had stories. But maybe he no longer had desire. Jesus’ question brings all of that to light.

It is also a question for you. You live in a broken world. You carry wounds of your own. Some are very public. Others are known only to you and to God. The risen Christ stands before you today, in His Word, and He asks, “Do you want to be made whole?”

And if you are honest, you may find the answer harder to give than you thought.

I. Some are resigned to brokenness

This man had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. Almost four decades of waiting. Hoping. Hurting. And getting nothing in return.

By the time Jesus speaks to him, the man seems resigned to his fate. When Jesus comes by, he does not beg. There is no sign that he even knew who Jesus was. He does not reach out or even ask to be healed. And his response to Jesus’ question is not a request. It is an excuse: “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.”

Contrast that with the blind man near Jericho, for example. Some of you heard his story not long ago in one of our daily devotions on Facebook. In Luke 18 we read that a blind man heard that Jesus was passing by. When he heard that news, he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And when others tried to silence him, he only cried out all the more. When Jesus asked what he wanted, he did not hesitate: “Lord, let me recover my sight.”

That blind man would not be deterred. But this man at Bethesda is so worn down by his long affliction that he does not even look up. The Healer is standing over him, and he has nothing to say. He has grown used to his condition. Perhaps he has stopped expecting anything to change.

You know how that kind of weariness sets in. The diagnosis that does not improve. The relationship that stays strained. The prayers that seem to go unanswered. The setbacks that keep coming, even when you thought you were finally healing.

You know that posture, too. Maybe you have not cried out in a long time. Maybe you used to hope—but now you only explain. You say, “I have no one. There’s nothing to be done. It’s been too long. It’s too late.”

Resignation can disguise itself as realism. You tell yourself, “I’m just being honest about my situation.” But if the risen Christ stands before you—if He has overcome sin and death and the devil—then resignation is not realism. It is unbelief. It is despair. And it is not from God.

As you learned in the Small Catechism, we pray that our Father in heaven would guard and keep us so that the devil, the world, and our sinful flesh may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice. If Satan cannot distract you, he will wear you down. He will whisper, “Nothing will ever change. God has forgotten you. This is just the way it is now.” And if you believe him, you will stop hoping altogether.

Let me ask you the question this way: Are you still longing for the day when Christ will make all things new? Or have you already decided that this is as good as it gets?

Revelation 21 gives you the true picture: the day is coming when the Lamb will wipe away every tear, when mourning and pain shall be no more, when night itself will give way to the glory of God. But you are not there yet. You are here. And here, in the midst of your affliction, Christ still asks: “Do you want to be made whole?”

II. Others are distracted from their need for healing

Not everyone is resigned. Some are simply distracted. That was part of this man’s problem, too. He was fixated on the pool. That is where his eyes were. That is where his hope had been placed. “Sir, I have no one to put me into the water when it is stirred.”

There is no sign that he asked whether healing might come from another place—or from another person. His attention was locked on the tradition about the angel and the stirring of the water. That was the channel through which healing would come—he was sure of it. And as long as he could not reach it, he was stuck.

That is distraction. Not always laziness. Not indifference. Just a focus placed in the wrong place for too long.

It is not hard to see yourself there. You may not be fixated on a pool of water, but how often do you look for healing, for peace, for direction in all the wrong places? You chase after political headlines, economic stability, your kids’ success, your own sense of control.

Yes, there are things you are rightly responsible for—your family, your health, your daily work. But those things were never meant to bear the full weight of your hope. And if your eyes never rise above them, if your heart never looks beyond this life, you will end up watching the wrong water.

And perhaps the greater danger is that your eyes are so full of this world that you stop looking for the next. You stop longing for the new creation. You stop hungering for the glory of the Lamb. The healing Christ offers no longer seems urgent—because life here seems manageable.

That is why Psalm 67 gives such a necessary reminder:

“Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you! Let the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon earth.”

The psalm assumes that God’s salvation will be seen, desired, and sung. But if your eyes are full of this world’s flickering lights, how will you recognize the light of the world?

Let me ask you the question this way: Are you still longing for the day when Christ will make all things new? Or have you already decided that this is as good as it gets?

The man at Bethesda was watching the wrong water. He was waiting for the wrong miracle. The same danger lies before you. Christ stands before you in His Word, in His gifts, in His promises. He asks you what He asked that man: “Do you want to be made whole?”

III. Christ comes, asks, commands, and heals

Jesus does not wait for the man to ask. He does not require the right words. He does not test his sincerity. Jesus walks up to the man who does not cry out, who does not know Him, who offers only an excuse—and He heals him anyway.

“Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” That is all. A word from the Lord. And with that word comes the power to do what it says. Immediately the man is made well.

This is no random act of kindness. This is a sign. That is the word John uses again and again in his Gospel. Jesus is not just fixing one man’s legs. He is showing the world who He is. And what He has come to do.

He has come to restore. He has come to undo the damage. He has come to make the broken whole again. And He does it not by waving His hand, not by stirring the water, but by speaking. He does it by His Word.

Jesus heals the man’s body—but He does not stop there. Later, Jesus finds him in the temple and warns him: “See, you are well. Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” The healing was real, but it was not complete. Jesus wants to give him more. Not just strength in his legs, but life in his soul. Not just the return of movement, but the gift of peace.

That is what Jesus often gives when He heals. “Go in peace,” He says. “Your faith has made you well.” And the word He uses for “well” is the same word for salvation. The healing Jesus offers is never just physical. It is always a sign—pointing to the cross, to forgiveness, to resurrection, to the wholeness He came to win.

Do not forget where that Word ultimately leads. The same voice that says, “Take up your bed and walk” will also say, “It is finished.” The one who heals the broken man will soon hang broken Himself. He will take up not a bed, but a cross. And by His wounds, you are healed.

He is the Lamb whose blood makes the unclean clean. He is the Son who overcomes despair by enduring it. He is the Word made flesh, who silences the lies of the devil by speaking peace to you.

He does not ask if you have earned it. He does not wait for you to come to Him. He comes to you. Just as He came to Lydia in the reading from Acts—opening her heart by His Word—so He comes to you now, through the Scriptures, through the sermon, through water and bread and wine.

He comes not only to comfort, but to restore. Not only to forgive, but to raise up. Not only to touch your soul, but to make your body new as well on the Last Day. That is the trajectory of His healing. That is what His cross has secured. And even now, His Word is already at work.

You may feel like the man lying at the pool—unnoticed, powerless, worn out. But the Son of God has noticed you. He has come to you. He has spoken to you. And what He speaks is life.

“Do you want to be made whole?” Then listen. The healing has already begun.

IV. The healing Christ gives is already yours in baptism

The man at Bethesda was watching the wrong water. He was waiting for something that might never happen. And even if the water stirred, he had no one to carry him in.

Jesus did not use that water to heal him. But He has used water to heal you.

He commanded that your parents bring you to the font. And there, through the hands of His servant, the water was stirred. Not by superstition, but by promise. Not by legend, but by the living Word. And with the Word of God, it was not just water anymore. As you learned in the Small Catechism, “with the Word of God it is a Baptism, that is, a life-giving water, rich in grace, and a washing of new birth in the Holy Spirit, as St. Paul says in Titus chapter 3…”

There at the font, you were made whole—not just in body, but in soul. As Paul writes, “He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit… so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs, having the hope of eternal life.” That is what the water gave you: rebirth, renewal, justification, and hope. The healing Jesus gave the man at Bethesda lasted a while. But the healing He gave you in Baptism will carry you through death and into everlasting life.

You did not choose that moment. You may not even remember it. But Christ does. Just as He sought out the man at Bethesda, so He sought you out. Just as He healed with a word then, He healed with a Word that day—and He has not stopped speaking since.

Your healing began at the font. It continues as Christ feeds you, strengthens you, forgives you, and renews you by His Word and His Supper. And it will reach its fullness when the trumpet sounds and the dead are raised. On that day, your body will rise—not broken, not limping, not afraid—but whole.

You may feel like nothing is changing. You may be watching the wrong water again. But Christ has already begun His work in you. You are baptized. You are His. You are being made whole.

Do you want to be made whole? You already are. And you will be. For the One who began this good work in you will bring it to completion on the day of Christ Jesus.

Conclusion

In this world, you will have trouble. You will battle distractions. You will feel the pull of despair. The devil, the world, and your sinful flesh will try to deceive you and mislead you into false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice.

But your healing does not depend on your strength. It does not depend on your clarity. It does not even depend on the strength of your desire. It depends on the Word and work of Christ. And He has already begun. He has spoken. He has washed. He has claimed you.

And He has promised a day when all will be made new—when death will be no more, when night will give way to everlasting light, and when the Lamb will be your glory (Revelation 21). He said of that promise, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true” (Revelation 21:5).

So do not stop with physical healing. Do not settle for comfort in this life alone. Jesus has more to give. More than healing. More than relief. He gives life. And He calls you to live it as His own.

And to you, as to that man in the temple, He says: “See, you are well. Go and sin no more.”