PART 1 — THE BED YOU’VE BEEN LYING ON
There is a place in Jerusalem that almost no one visited with joy. They did not come singing. They did not come expecting a miracle. They came because they were stuck. They came because they were broken. They came because they had nowhere else to go.
It was called the Pool of Bethesda.
Five porches wrapped around that pool like a hospital waiting room that never emptied and never healed. The Bible says the people who lay there were “blind, lame, and paralyzed.” But if we could step into the story with spiritual eyes, we would see much more than physical illness. We would see what Jesus saw — the stuck, the stagnant, the defeated, the misdirected, the disappointed, the spiritually numb.
Bethesda was not a place of healing.
It was a place of waiting.
It was the porch of stagnation.
The porch of false hope.
The porch of spiritual paralysis.
And Jesus walked straight into that space because it represents the condition of His people. Many believers today are not rebellious. They are not faithless. They are not uninterested in God. They are simply stuck. Emotionally stuck. Spiritually stuck. Stuck in cycles they cannot break. Stuck in pain they cannot name. Stuck in identities they did not choose. Stuck in beds they never intended to lie on for this long.
Bethesda was full of people who could not move… and full of people who did not believe anything else ever would move. And yet they kept coming back to the same place, the same routine, the same pool, hoping that maybe this time something different would happen.
Sound familiar?
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THE WATER NEVER STIRRED — AND JESUS KNEW IT
One of the most liberating truths about this passage is something most Christians never notice:
The water never had healing power.
Not once. Not ever.
It was a story. A belief. A superstition that grew out of desperation.
People believed that an angel came down, touched the water, stirred it, and whoever was first into the pool would be healed. It was a myth built around a reservoir fed by intermittent springs. Every now and then, the water bubbled — and people assumed heaven had touched earth.
But God had not spoken.
No prophet had declared it.
The Scriptures did not promise it.
Jesus did not affirm it.
And yet multitudes built their hope on a pool that God never stirred.
Church people still do this.
They wait for:
a feeling
a sign
a spiritual wave
a new season
someone else to change
someone else to notice
someone else to help
circumstances to improve
the perfect moment
But the water never moves.
We keep returning to habits that cannot heal us, beliefs that cannot strengthen us, emotional scripts that cannot free us, coping mechanisms that cannot restore us.
We lie down on beds that keep us paralyzed.
That is why Jesus didn’t waste one second blessing a myth.
He didn’t energize the false system.
He didn’t say, “Hold on… wait until the water moves.”
No.
He walked past the superstition and went directly to the man.
Because the answer was never in the water.
The answer was standing beside it.
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YOUR CHURCH HAS A PORCH
Bethesda is not just a location in Jerusalem.
Bethesda is every church on Sabbath morning.
If you could see what Jesus sees, you would recognize the same five porches:
1. The Porch of Fear
People terrified of failure, rejection, change, or surrender.
2. The Porch of Shame
People who believe God forgives but cannot imagine forgiving themselves.
3. The Porch of Bitterness
People who carry wounds from family, church, or life that never healed.
4. The Porch of Disappointment
People who prayed for something that didn’t happen… and their hope quietly shut down.
5. The Porch of Exhaustion
People spiritually tired, emotionally empty, physically worn down.
And just like in Jerusalem, the porch is full — but the people are not moving.
This is spiritual paralysis.
Not rebellion.
Not unbelief.
Not apathy.
Paralysis.
People who love Jesus but cannot rise, cannot break free, cannot see forward.
Bethesda is the church when the people of God have been wounded long enough to believe that nothing will ever change.
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WHAT PARALYZES US TODAY?
Jesus sees deeper than symptoms.
He sees the internal forces that make people lie down when they were created to walk.
Fear paralyzes.
Fear tells you, “Don’t try again. Don’t trust again. Don’t hope again.”
Shame paralyzes.
Shame whispers, “You don’t deserve to rise.”
Guilt paralyzes.
Guilt chains you to your past.
Bitterness paralyzes.
Bitterness freezes your spirit and hardens your heart.
Trauma paralyzes.
Trauma teaches your soul to stay where it hurts least.
Disappointment paralyzes.
After years of unanswered prayers, people stop praying for anything big.
Unforgiveness paralyzes.
You cannot walk forward while holding someone else emotionally by the throat.
Hopelessness paralyzes.
When hope dies, movement stops.
And then there are the hidden forces that no one talks about:
depression
anxiety
identity wounds
loneliness
self-loathing
unresolved grief
The stuff we carry silently.
Ellen White saw this clearly when she wrote:
> “Grief, anxiety, discontent, remorse, guilt, distrust… all tend to break down the life forces.”
— Ministry of Healing, p. 241
She wasn’t just talking about the body.
She was talking about the soul.
What paralyzes the spirit eventually paralyzes the life.
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JESUS’ QUESTION REVEALS EVERYTHING
Jesus approaches the man — not the crowd, not the system, not the pool — but the man.
The one who had been stuck for thirty-eight years.
And He asks the question no one else would dare to ask:
> “Do you want to be made whole?” John 5:6
This is not an insult.
This is revelation.
Because not everyone who lies down actually wants to get up.
Some have become comfortable in dysfunction.
Some have built identity around pain.
Some have accepted paralysis as permanent.
Some have been disappointed so many times that hope feels dangerous.
And Jesus confronts the deepest paralysis: the paralysis of desire.
He doesn’t say:
“Do you want to walk?”
“Do you want stronger legs?”
“Do you want to improve?”
He says:
“Do you want to be made whole?”
Whole goes beyond walking.
Whole goes beyond healing.
Whole enters the territory of salvation, transformation, renewal, rebirth, identity, purpose, peace.
Healing fixes what is broken.
Wholeness restores what has been lost.
Healing touches the body.
Wholeness touches the life.
Healing helps you move.
Wholeness shows you where to move.
Walking is a miracle.
Wholeness is a revolution.
The man didn’t just need legs.
He needed a life.
Many church members don’t need better behavior.
They need wholeness:
wholeness in faith
wholeness in identity
wholeness in purpose
wholeness in relationships
wholeness in emotional health
wholeness in connection with God
This is why Jesus refuses to ask:
“Do you want to walk?”
Because you can walk physically and still be paralyzed spiritually.
You can walk into the church every Sabbath and never rise into the calling God placed on your life.
You can walk… and still not live.
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The question now is not:
“Can Jesus heal you?”
“Can Jesus change you?”
“Can Jesus restore you?”
Those answers are already settled in heaven.
The question Jesus is asking the whole church today is:
“Do you want to be made whole?”
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The man at Bethesda had been lying there for thirty-eight years. Thirty-eight years of watching other people step over him, walk past him, move ahead of him. Thirty-eight years of disappointment. Thirty-eight years of hoping the impossible might somehow become possible. Thirty-eight years of believing a story that could never heal him.
When Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be made whole?” the man doesn’t say, “Yes!”
He doesn’t say, “Please heal me!”
He doesn’t say, “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!”
Instead he says:
> “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred.”
—John 5:7
He immediately returns to the myth, the superstition, the system that has failed him for almost four decades. His answer reveals the deepest paralysis of all:
He cannot imagine a miracle outside of the system that disappointed him.
Many believers today do the same:
They limit God to old narratives.
They confine Him to old disappointments.
They expect nothing beyond what has always been.
They cling to broken systems because they cannot picture anything different.
Some have been stuck so long that even when Jesus stands beside them, they point back to the pool.
“If only the water moved…”
“If only someone helped me…”
“If only circumstances changed…”
“If only life was different…”
But Jesus is not there to help him into the water.
Jesus is there to deliver him from the entire system.
Because the water was never the answer.
Jesus does not repair the myth — He replaces it.
He doesn’t energize the superstition — He ends it.
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THE PARALYSIS OF HOPELESSNESS
When the man says, “I have no man,” he exposes a wound deeper than physical paralysis.
This is relational paralysis, emotional paralysis, spiritual paralysis.
It is the paralysis that whispers:
“You are alone.”
“No one sees you.”
“No one cares.”
“No one is coming.”
“You are on your own.”
Hopelessness is not the absence of options.
Hopelessness is the absence of imagination.
You stop imagining that tomorrow could be different.
You stop imagining that God could break through.
You stop imagining that healing is possible.
You stop imagining that transformation could ever reach your heart.
This man had been lying on his bed so long that he learned to live with disappointment.
He learned to expect nothing.
He learned to settle.
And when hopelessness becomes habitual, even when Jesus stands beside you, the mind still looks toward the pool.
This is why Jesus must stir the person before He heals the condition.
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WHOLENESS IS DEEPER THAN FUNCTION
Remember Jesus’ question:
> “Do you want to be made whole?”
Whole does not mean “walk.”
Whole means:
restored
reintegrated
reclaimed
reconnected
renewed
put back together in every dimension of life
Whole is deeper than physical restoration.
You can walk with broken emotions.
You can walk with fractured identity.
You can walk with unforgiveness deep in your chest.
You can walk with generational wounds in your soul.
You can walk while dying on the inside.
Walking is the miracle of the legs.
Wholeness is the miracle of the life.
This is why Jesus doesn't begin with muscle tissue.
He begins with the man’s desire, his will, his soul, his imagination, his broken hope.
He heals the inside before the outside ever moves.
Ellen White captures this truth powerfully:
> “When the soul is brought into right relation with God, many diseases which have been occasioned by the mind will be healed.”
—Mind, Character, and Personality, vol. 1, p. 59
Healing the soul often releases the body.
Healing the mind often releases the spirit.
Healing the identity often releases the future.
Jesus is after wholeness, not simply movement.
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NAAMAN — THE OLD TESTAMENT PARALLEL
We must now bring in the man whose story runs in perfect parallel with Bethesda:
Naaman.
Naaman was not paralyzed in body — he was paralyzed in pride.
He was not immobilized by weakness — he was immobilized by status, dignity, and self-importance.
Elisha tells him:
> “Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and you shall be clean.”
And Naaman becomes angry.
Why?
The water was too ordinary.
The method too simple.
The instructions too humbling.
The healing too dependent on surrender.
Naaman wanted healing his way.
He wanted a grand gesture, a dramatic ritual, a prophet waving his hands, something worthy of a commander.
He did not want to be healed through humility.
The Bethesda man wanted healing his way too.
Through a myth.
Through a story.
Through a superstition.
Through a system that fed his disappointment.
Naaman had to surrender his pride.
The Bethesda man had to surrender his hopelessness.
Both had to relinquish their system to receive their salvation.
And here is the deeper miracle:
Neither was saved by water — both were saved by obedience.
It was not the Jordan that healed Naaman.
And it was not Bethesda that healed the paralytic.
It was the Word of God that broke the paralysis.
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JESUS SPEAKS THREE COMMANDS THAT STILL SET PEOPLE FREE
When Jesus finally speaks, He says three words that strike like thunder:
1. “Rise.”
This is the internal healing.
Before the muscles strengthen, the spirit rises.
Before the legs straighten, the hope awakens.
“Rise” means:
stand up on the inside
stand up in identity
stand up in faith
stand up against the story that held you
stand up to the voice that told you you’ll never change
“Rise” is not about legs.
It’s about willingness.
Every revival begins with a rise.
2. “Take up your bed.”
Now we reach the heart of the sermon.
Jesus refuses to let the man leave his bed behind.
Why?
Because the bed was no longer a prison.
It was now a testimony.
The thing that once carried him,
he now carries.
When Jesus says, “Take up your bed,” He is saying:
carry your past without being defined by it
carry your story without being imprisoned by it
carry your wounds as evidence of healing
carry your identity as proof of transformation
You don’t get to rise without responsibility.
You don’t get to walk without witness.
You don’t get to be whole without surrender.
“Take up your bed” means:
Show the world what Jesus delivered you from.
3. “Walk.”
Not “limp.”
Not “try.”
Not “crawl.”
Walk.
Walk into identity.
Walk into purpose.
Walk into wholeness.
Walk into your calling.
Walk into the future God prepared.
Walk into the life you were created to live.
Walking is not the healing.
Walking is the proof of the healing.
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THE SYSTEM IS GONE — THE SAVIOR REMAINS
By speaking these three commands, Jesus ended the entire Bethesda system in one moment.
No more waiting.
No more superstition.
No more competition.
No more despair.
No more hopeless porches.
The man didn’t need the pool.
He didn’t need the water.
He didn’t need an angel.
He didn’t need a chance.
He didn’t need a helper.
He needed Jesus.
And the same is true today.
Some believers lie on spiritual beds, waiting for a sign God never promised.
Waiting for water He never stirred.
Waiting for a feeling He never guaranteed.
Waiting for people who never came.
But Jesus stands beside them saying:
“Rise.”
“Take up your bed.”
“Walk.”
Not someday.
Not when you feel stronger.
Not when life improves.
Not when you overcome everything.
Not when you fix yourself.
Now.
Because the power was never in the water.
The power was in the Word.
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The question now is no longer:
“Can Jesus make you whole?”
He already has the power.
He already has the authority.
He already has the desire.
The deeper question is:
What will you do with the bed you’ve been lying on?
Will you keep returning to it?
Will you leave it behind?
Or will you carry it as evidence that the Lord has set you free?
This brings us back to the question:
Where is your bed?
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The man stands.
Can you see him?
For the first time in thirty-eight years, strength floods his limbs. Muscles awaken. Tendons tighten. Bones bear weight they have not held since the Roman Empire’s early days. His body rises, but something deeper rises with him — his identity, his hope, his future.
And then Jesus gives him the strangest command:
> “Take up your bed.”
—John 5:8
If I had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years, the first thing I’d want to do is get away from that bed.
Leave it behind.
Forget it existed.
Move far from the porch that defined my existence.
But Jesus wouldn’t allow it.
Why?
Because the bed was not merely a mattress.
It was a memory.
A testimony.
A symbol of everything that had once held this man captive.
If he left the bed behind, he might leave the lesson behind.
If he left the bed behind, the world might forget what Jesus had done.
If he left the bed behind, he might be tempted to come back to it.
No.
Jesus wanted him to carry his old life — not as a burden, but as proof.
The bed that once held him would now be held by him.
The thing that used to define him would now testify for him.
The symbol of paralysis would become the symbol of praise.
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THE BED IS NOT YOUR HOME ANYMORE — BUT IT IS PART OF YOUR STORY
Every believer has a bed.
Not a mat of straw, but a mat of experience.
For some, the bed is fear — a life lived expecting disaster at every turn.
For some, the bed is shame — believing they’re not worthy of joy, of calling, of grace.
For some, the bed is sin — a habit, a secret, a chain they thought they could never break.
For some, the bed is grief — sorrow so deep they learned to lie down in it.
For some, the bed is bitterness — a wound that grew roots and wrapped itself around their heart.
For some, the bed is guilt — an old failure replayed in the soul like a broken record.
For some, the bed is identity — “This is just who I am… this is all I’ll ever be.”
And for some, the bed is simply spiritual paralysis — they don’t know how they got stuck, but they know they cannot move.
And Jesus asks:
“Where is your bed?”
Are you still lying on it?
Have you left it behind?
Or are you carrying it as evidence of His grace?
Because what you do with your bed reveals whether you’ve only been healed…
or whether you’ve truly been made whole.
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THE BED YOU CARRY IS A TESTIMONY
Imagine the scene: the healed man walks straight into the marketplace carrying his mat. People gasp. People whisper. People stare.
“Is that… him?”
“The one who lay outside the Sheep Gate?”
“The one who never moved?”
“The one who was always alone?”
Yes. It’s him.
And the bed proves it.
The bed is the before-and-after picture.
The bed is the sermon he didn’t have to preach.
The bed is the evidence he didn’t have to argue.
The bed is the gospel embodied.
When Jesus truly makes you whole, you don’t hide your past — you carry it redeemed.
Not to glorify sin, but to glorify the Savior.
Not to dwell on failure, but to demonstrate freedom.
Not to relive shame, but to reveal mercy.
Not to revisit wounds, but to remind the world that God heals what others abandon.
Your bed is your story.
Your story is your ministry.
And your ministry is born from what Jesus delivered you from.
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THE MAN WALKED — BUT HE ALSO LEFT THE PORCH BEHIND
Walking wasn’t the real miracle.
Leaving was.
Because anyone can walk physically…
but not everyone can walk away from:
the places that imprisoned them
the habits that held them
the lies that defined them
the people who discouraged them
the identity that limited them
the memories that haunted them
the disappointments that silenced them
Jesus didn’t say:
“Rise, take up your bed, and sit right back down.”
He said:
“Rise… take up your bed… and walk.”
Meaning:
Get out of the porch.
Get out of the system.
Get out of the story.
Get out of the mindset.
Get out of the old life.
Get out of the place where you were stuck.”
Where Jesus is taking you is not where you’ve been lying.
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THE REAL MIRACLE HAPPENS IN THE TEMPLE
Later, Jesus finds the man in the temple — the place of worship he couldn’t go for thirty-eight years.
And Jesus says something shocking:
> “Behold, you have been made whole. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.”
—John 5:14
There it is.
Jesus didn’t come just to restore muscle.
He came to restore relationship.
Character.
Identity.
Direction.
Salvation.
Physical healing was the doorway.
Wholeness was the goal.
And Jesus warns him:
“The greatest paralysis is not in the legs…
It is in the soul.”
Sin will cripple you more completely than any disease.
Bitterness will immobilize you faster than any injury.
Unforgiveness will paralyze you deeper than any broken bone.
Jesus healed the body first so He could reach the soul next.
Because if you walk out of Bethesda on strong legs but walk back into sin on a weak heart, you are not whole — you are only mobile.
God is not after movement.
He is after transformation.
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THIS IS THE CALL TO THE CHURCH
We have spent too many years lying on spiritual beds:
beds of tradition
beds of fear
beds of excuses
beds of woundedness
beds of stagnation
beds of “I can’t”
beds of “some day”
beds of “when things change”
beds of “when someone helps me”
And heaven is asking:
WHERE IS YOUR BED?
Is it still under you?
Or is it now behind you?
Are you dragging it?
Or are you carrying it?
Are you hiding it?
Or are you testifying with it?
Because the true evidence of revival is not in louder singing, longer prayers, or stronger emotion — it is in believers who rise from the places that once held them captive.
Revival is when a church stands up.
Revival is when a believer faces the thing that defined them.
Revival is when a soul says,
“Enough. I refuse to lie here any longer.”
Revival is when Jesus speaks and someone obeys.
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THE APPEAL — THIS IS YOUR MOMENT TO RISE
Right now Jesus is standing beside you, just as He stood beside that man.
He sees:
the wound beneath the wound
the paralysis beneath the paralysis
the story beneath the story
the fear beneath the silence
the disappointment beneath the faith
the identity beneath the behavior
And He asks you: “Do you want to be made whole?”
Not “Do you want to feel better?”
Not “Do you want to improve a little?”
Not “Do you want temporary relief?”
Whole.
Complete.
Restored.
Free.
Alive.
New.
And if you are willing — even barely willing — then Jesus is ready.
He speaks now: “Rise.”
Stand up on the inside.
“Take up your bed.”
Own your story as a testimony of grace.
“Walk.”
Leave the porch.
Leave the excuses.
Leave the hopelessness.
Leave the myth.
Leave the old life.
Walk into wholeness.
Walk into freedom.
Walk into the purpose God prepared for you before you were born.
So I ask again — gently, boldly, in the name of Jesus:
WHERE IS YOUR BED?
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CLOSING PRAYER
Lord Jesus,
You see every person who has been lying on a bed of fear, guilt, shame, disappointment, or paralysis.
You know the years they’ve carried it.
You know the tears they never spoke.
You know the wounds they hid beneath smiles.
Today, speak again the words that created the universe: Rise.
Speak again the words that restore the soul: Be made whole.
Speak again the words that call us into purpose: Walk.
Break every chain, heal every wound, silence every lie, and lift every burden.
Make Your people whole — not only healed in body, but healed in mind, heart, identity, spirit, and destiny.
And as we rise, give us courage to carry our beds as testimonies of Your grace.
For we ask it in the mighty name of Jesus.
Amen.
