John 5:1-18

Last year, I gave up worry for Lent. Just slap gave it up.

It wasn’t a decision I made capriciously, but one I landed on after some discernment. I had been overtaken in the recent weeks and months leading up to Lent by passages in Scripture where Jesus provided in some way or another unequivocal assurance, much like He does in this passage from John’s Gospel. And I’d become particularly taken with Jesus frequently telling his disciples to not be afraid. Over and over again, we hear in Scripture about God’s assurance, and we’re cautioned time and again to not be afraid. So, why did I worry so much? The question became as clear as it ever had before. Why did I worry so much? If my faith teaches me otherwise, again, why did I worry so much?

But something else helped me make this decision. You may find this true, too, but God often speaks to me through trusted spiritual friends. I found myself in conversation with a good friend alluding to how much I worried: “Oh, you know me – always worrying about things.” Her response was a moment of clarity in discernment I didn’t necessarily know I was doing: “You know, I don’t think of you as someone who worries about things all the time.” Huh. It seems as if I was hanging on to that identity for no one’s sake, but mine. Worrying, for me – as it turned out – was neither faithful nor was it truly part of who I am called to be. So I gave it up.

“Do you want to be made well?” A zinger of a question Jesus asks in this passage from John’s Gospel. “Do you want to be made well?” And though the man with the illness doesn’t quite offer a straightforward response, Jesus continues to lead him to healing. Sure enough, the man stands up and walks. I’m well aware that healing in its many layers and manifestations isn’t this straightforward. But sometimes – every once in awhile – it is. “Do not be afraid.” Ok. I won’t! “Stand up, take your mat, and walk!” Ok. I will!

I have two children, one of whom is finishing up their first year of college, one of whom is navigating the trickiness of being a teenager. My husband and I are in that season of life where doctor’s appointments are taking up more and time. Our parents are aging. And I’m pretty sure there’s a leak in the upstairs bathroom that we’re going to need to address. Believe me: I have a lot to worry about. And, almost daily, I almost do. But then I remind myself that I gave it up for Lent last year. I remind myself that I’m not a worrier. “Do not be afraid.” Ok. I won’t! “Stand up, take your mat, and walk!” Ok. I will!

Meditation by the Reverend Canon Rebekah Hatch
Canon for Lay and Ordained Vocations
The Episcopal Church in Connecticut