Of all the moments from my middle school years that I'd rather forget, there's one sweet, redeeming memory that has stayed with me.

It happened in my music class, of all places. I can't remember my teacher's name or even recall what grade — perhaps seventh?

All I know is that we had to sing a solo while the teacher played her piano. It was an exam of sorts but not a performance in front of the entire class, thank God.

Here's the chorus of my assigned song:

I can still see it. Shy and self-conscious, I finished singing and waited for my teacher's feedback.

Well, I was shocked when she said something to the effect of, "Wow, Chelsea, you have a beautiful voice." (I think she was as genuinely surprised as I was.)

Now, as I look back on this moment, I can see that the Holy Spirit was moving, stirring me. God was seeding words of life into my soul.

This song, an African American spiritual, has a rich history. And there's an unmistakable connection to the story in John 5, when Jesus heals a sick man at the Pool of Bethesda.

I've been pondering and praying through this story for a while. Something in me was drawn to this man, who for 38 years lay immobilized and ostracized — along with a multitude of others: Blind. Lame. Paralyzed.

The "invalids."

Merriam Webster defines invalid as...

• Being without foundation or force in fact, truth, or law (adjective)
• One who is sickly or disabled (noun)

These "invalids" are waiting for the elusive stirring up of the waters at this pool. Its very name, Bethesda, means "flowing water" or "house of mercy."

As far as they know, it's their only hope of healing, however fleeting or far-fetched. Their reality is scarcity rather than mercy.

Enter Jesus — about to stir up some stuff!

He sees this man, knows his long-suffering, and asks one question: "Do you want to be healed?"

The man responds: "Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool..."

He's focused on his unyielding, troubling circumstances and can think of only one solution: the pool.

All the while, the voice of God was troubling the waters within him. Jesus was speaking to his heart, deep calling to deep.

God cares about the condition of our heart. It's the wellspring of our life.

And when we endure extended seasons of suffering, sickness, or hardship, it takes a toll. Waiting tests and forms our heart, for better or worse.

The Hebrew word for wait is qāvâ (H6960). It means "to wait, look for, hope, expect." It also means "to collect, bind together."

Interestingly, the first use of this word in the Bible is in reference to waters.

God spoke over the waters, gathering them together, bringing order and earth — solid ground, a firm foundation.

Similarly, Jesus speaks to the invalid: "Get up, take up your bed, and walk."

Jesus doesn't entertain the man's explanation but rather issues a command. Immediately, the man was healed!

Again, God's command brought order, strength, firm footing. The man picked up his bed and walked.

Perhaps the craziest part of this story? The man had no clue who healed him ... until Jesus came to him a second time with the warning to "sin no more."

The physical healing was wonderful. It was indeed a miracle. But Jesus is still after something more: spiritual healing. The salvation of our soul. And that only happens in relationship, when we know him, by grace through faith.

Jesus is speaking here of the Holy Spirit. He wants to fill us, heal us, and flow through us. He brings strength and truth and abundant life, regardless of our external circumstances.

In what ways are you waiting for circumstances to change in your life? What could God be doing, saying, stirring on the inside of you right now?

God wants to change our perspective — from waiting to wading.

He's always working, troubling the waters within, bringing new strength, fresh hope for the future, and rivers of living water.

Pray with me...

Lord, may your living water and lovingkindness flow through me. Make me a walking pool of Bethesda. A house of mercy. A fountain of flowing water, connected to the source of eternal life, plugged into the torrents of heaven, the Spirit of truth and glory. Thank you that there's a spring inside of me. It never runs out. It never goes dry. Remove any and all blockages. May you burst out of me freely. Amen.

Wading,

Chelsea