By the pool sat these cold feet; tired, bruised and dirty, held by a worn-out hand-woven slip-on. His owner can describe it, as years of running, walking, and dragging across the shortest miles ever.
Lying in waste, wrapped in tattered linen is this lifeless body; hopeless beyond description, vulnerable beyond major weakness. It’s been over three decades and the end of another is just round the corner.
Just below three hundred nights could have been enough to strategize, improve or out-compete but every night; it seems not to be enough. At first, it would have called bitten, the second; twice bitten, the third; thrice shy but how would I call the thirtieth and beyond. It is unthinkable that this body once alive on a horseback, fighting wars, conquering land, fending for food, one man’s husband would be lost against hope for thirty eight turning points. Every time, he extended his arms and pushed his paralyzed legs, it reminded him the years of groaning, the days of miracle snatching by the so-called fellow who just crawled into the pool a few days ago and left out whole so soon.
The angels must have been unkind not to attend according to moral standard; first come, first serve. The family must have been so unjust for not pushing fast enough to outrun others. Instead of leaving a coin, they left a word. If it had being coin, would it have bought back life to the broken dead spine? Wishful thinking, unreal, unheard, extreme, impossible, words after words, until his pocket were filled against hope.
In human words, life is not fair to all. But how do you call it when suddenly, one night, just in few hours it all happened. Does it mean, life suddenly remembered to be fair? He was not the only one I realized but how could I have known if not for the stranger that passed by and made today one day.
I realized there was a feast in the city; I am sure the road that lead to the feast was far wider, smoother and shorter than the one leading to this sheep gate. Along the porch walked an unknown man, who saw this lifeless body and knew his pain. Everyone would have thought someone travelling all the way down into a city would be heading for the feast. At least, that I am sure about, this unknown man to all was beyond royal, noble cannot fully measure him, great would be too small to describe him. I wonder why he had to come to a place where souls were crying for help, screaming in self-pity, complaining, blaming, praying and dreaming while he could sit in the king’s porch and merry.
But right here by this grey pool, out of the multitude of hopeless situation, a new halleluiah chorus was written. Through his eyes, I knew that the infirmity was not unto death, the cries and pains not a waste, the night of loneliness and cries, not in vain. Although, I thought he had missed it when the stranger gave a hand, and the hopeless man rendered complains but this man you call stranger knew that a new hallelujah song had to be written.
“I look back to that very point when one man had to give up everything; his life, kingdom, royalty, feast to take up the sinful “me”. If you ask me, only one cord cannot be broken, only one heart cannot leave one behind. It’s of the Father and Mother. I guess because they brought me to life, trained me up and have me imbedded in their blood. But If I was to tell the whole truth from my heart, they still cannot love me as much as take my place or stand in hell for me. I look at this very confused, chaos state of human mind and how well we think we could shut it out, exchange it, chose to believe or not to, replace with wealth or deny it. It still doesn’t change the truth or ever will. Even when we fall in self-denial or choose to leave in ignorance, the truth still lies within us that nothing else in this world can fill that hollow in our heart crying out for more, except the self-existing one himself who came in sinful flesh to those who would believe him does it.
What a day for this paralyzed body! If he had followed self-denial trip and ignore the request of this unknown man. “Do you want to be made well”?
If you want to be made well. Congratulations. It’s Easter. I am not talking about holidays, Easter eggs, Easter bunnies or tags we choose to surround ourselves with. It is about Jesus Christ who paid it all.
Make a simple prayer: Lord, I want to be well. I am sorry for all my ways. I acknowledge into my life as my Lord and personal saviour. Amen.
If it was only you, Jesus would still have died on the cross.
Story re-written from John 5:1-14
You thought about anything while reading. Leave a comment. Just to let me know you dropped by.
Oluwamitomisin
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