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I'm a Great Guy...Right? - Sunday of the Paralytic

My family and I have been trying to be more proactive about having people over to our home and welcoming them into our lives, sharing with them everything that goes into being a Christian family.

But our single friends don’t just witness family life in general; more specifically, they get a look into (and the chance to comment on!) our marriage marriage.

Recently, my pregnant wife’s doctor said that she needs to eat 100 grams of protein (!) every day. For those who aren’t dieticians, that’s a lot of protein, and it takes some creative meal planning to make sure that it happens. It also means that I have to keep a daily log of everything my wife eats, tallying a running total as she goes.

To be honest, I’ve been kind of a dictator about it, and my wife has handled it with great patience, even though she’s totally tired of eating eggs.

Recently, after I had finished logging her protein intake from dinner, one of our friends was telling us about her relationship woes, sharing her frustration over her past relationships and how none of her boyfriends had attended to her in the way she needed.  Bemoaning this, she simply said, “I just want the kind of guy who would be more worried about my protein intake than I am!”

After congratulating myself for being such a fantastic husband, I was immediately struck by the fact that, though our friend could see me care for my wife, she was only getting a partial glimpse into our marriage.

She had no idea what a pill I can be.

While being married is definitely the coolest thing I’ve ever done, it is also the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not because it’s so hard to live with someone else, but because it forces me to realize how hard it must be to live with me.

Not to pat myself on the back (too much), but I tend to believe that I’m a really good guy. That’s probably because I’m pretty good at not thinking about how self-obsessed, self-promoting, self-serving, and self-protective I am. Instead, I tend to think about how welcoming I can be, and that I’m a really good listener at dinner parties.

And I don’t think I’m making those good parts up: I am that way. But I’m also not. People are complicated.

Like every character in LOST, I have daddy issues.

My relationship with my father was very strained. For years I was consumed by doubt and insecurity, constantly questioning whether I had his approval. I never knew whether I was smart enough, athletic enough, or (fill in the blank) enough.

Whenever I did something he didn’t like, he would withhold affection and withdraw from me relationally. As I grew older, I became increasingly afraid of displeasing him.

To make a long story short, he and I no longer have a relationship. But I have brought this wound, this fear of being not good enough, into my marriage and family.

And sometimes, when it becomes activated, I become angry and withdraw myself. Or, even worse, sometimes I can be passive-aggressive with my wife and daughter. If I perceive any kind of emotional withdrawal from either of them, even if they are just tired, frustrated, or sad, I can easily begin to believe that they are mad at me. That leads to me becoming afraid and angry, and in turn, withdrawn or passive-aggressive. It leads to me hurting them.

My wounds have led me to wound them.

Many of us have received wounds from parents, friends, exes, or even current significant others. As much as these relationships have had the capacity to bless us and bring forth life, they also have had great power to harm us and bring forth death. And we carry these wounds with us.

Of course, there is nothing sinful about being wounded, but we are responsible for how we carry our wounds.

Unfortunately, our wounds frequently become the stories we use to explain why we are paralyzed in some way – emotionally, relationally, psychologically, or even spiritually. Too often, we define ourselves by our wounds in order to justify ourselves when we harm others.

As odd as it may sound, it’s really easy to embrace the hurts we’ve suffered. They’re historical facts about our lives, and they’re never going away. This provides me with a very convenient excuse: allowing my wounds to define me is what allows me to rest in my brokenness. Because of course I’m a grumpy human; my childhood made me this way. 

So I shrug my shoulders and keep wounding my family, who deserve much better than that.

A few hours later, I go back to logging my wife’s protein intake, like the awesome guy I am.

It’s far too easy to blame my daddy-inspired emotional fragility when I am snappy with my wife, but my wounds do not make me treat her a certain way. My self-absorption does. My wounds are simply the excuse I use to cover my sinful self-love.

I use my wounds as a false identity, hiding my deeper relational and spiritual paralysis. My wounds have not caused my self-protection, though they have amplified it.[1]

But Christ calls me to let go of this false identity and no longer be defined by my wounds.

In the Gospel this upcoming Sunday, we read about a paralyzed man who had been laying by a pool, where “an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons, into the pool, and troubled the water; whoever stepped in first after the troubling of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.”

This paralyzed fellow had been waiting there for 38 years!

For 38 long years, this man had laid beside the pool watching others get into the water and come out healed. He had seen it! He knew that if he could only to get in the water, he would be healed. Instantly. Miraculously!

But there he lay, day after day, for 38 agonizing years, never having found a way to get into the pool. Was this pool surrounded by others who also spent decades waiting, or was this man the only one to have waited so long? And if he was alone in this epic, four-decade-long wait…why?

Curious, isn’t it?

It’s just as curious as the exchange that follows, because, “when Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ The sick man answered him, ‘Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me’” (Jn. 5:6-7).

Christ asks a blunt question: “Do you want to be healed?” The answer isn’t as obvious as it may seem; after all, you would think that if the man had so badly wanted to be healed, he would have figured it out somehow in 38 years! Christ’s question is only reasonable: do you even want to be healed?

And, of course, Christ’s question turns out to be the best one possible. The man didn’t respond indignantly. He didn’t shout with exasperation, “of course I want to be healed!”

In fact, the man doesn’t really answer the question at all.

He simply tells his story once more! “For 38 years I’ve been here!” I almost wonder if the man is hoping to tell the same story next year, having been there for 39 years.

It seems that, at some point in the last 38 years, he has been transformed – he is no longer a man suffering from paralysis, but rather he has become a paralytic. He has begun to identify himself with his plight. “Yep. I’m the guy who hasn’t been able to get into the pool. I’m the paralyzed guy. You’ve probably heard of me.” But this identity – that of the paralyzed man that never made it into the pool – is something that the Lord is inviting him to release.

The Lord is inviting him to simply be a person again.

So the Lord asks him (and thus asks us), “Do you want to be healed?”

Unfortunately, we often don’t.

We are often too comforted by the stories of self-pity, self-protection, self-love that have defined us for most of our lives (38 years is a long time). We would rather carry our wounds and justify our sin by saying “well, it’s just been this way because my dad never loved me.”

The reality is that, like the paralyzed man, we have had plenty of time to get in the water. We have had plenty of opportunity to avail ourselves to God’s healing grace. So Christ stands there, while we lay at His feet, and asks us bluntly, “Do you even want to be healed?”

Because maybe we don’t.

Maybe we’re scared of what it would be like to be able to walk. Maybe we can’t imagine life apart from lying beside the pool because that’s all we can remember. We may not be happy being paralyzed, but at least we’re comfortable.

Allowing Christ to heal me may mean bravely walking directly into the pain of my wounds. Though it’s hard, I can trust that my “daddy issues” won’t defeat me because Christ has promised to heal me. I trust Him because I’ve seen Him do it with others.

I know this, and I trust Him, yet I still fail. Too often, I hold onto my sad story and refuse to get in the water. Too often I fail to treat my wife well, because when I’m too scared to do otherwise. Too often,I am scared to let go of my wounds because too often I allow my wounds to define me. After all, “I’m just insecure because of my dad. That’s just who I am.”

Yet every day is a new opportunity to repent, and this Sunday, Christ will stand before me, before us all, and ask us, “Do you want to be healed?” How will we respond? I pray that I’ll finally have the strength to let Him take me on the exciting, inspiring, and frightening journey of learning how to walk beside Him though previously paralyzed. I pray I will finally accept His offer of life, and set aside the death I’ve been clinging to.

What do you think? Is it possible that to be afraid of God’s healing? Can you imagine what it would be like to stop making excuses and to walk with the Lord? In what ways is God asking you if you want be healed? Comment below!


[1] Timothy Keller, with Kathy Keller, The Meaning of Marriage: Facing the Complexities of Commitment with the Wisdom of God (Riverhead Books, New York: 2011), p. 62.

Christian is a Young Adult Ministries Coordinator for Y2AM. He is a husband, father, mover, shaker, coffee drinker, and CrossFitter. Christian has his MA from Azusa Pacific University in Marriage and Family Therapy and is working toward a second MA in Children, Youth, and Family Ministry from Luther Seminary. Christian and his family live in Phoenix, Arizona.

Photo Credit:

Eggs:

Jasmine&Roses via Compfight cc

Paralysis:

Sohel Parvez Haque via Compfight cc

Pool:

Jobopa via Compfight cc

 

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For more on Healing through Confession, check out this episode of Be the Bee: