When Religion Can’t Reach You: The Day Everything Changed Beside The Water

Sometimes it’s not the storms that test your faith—it’s the waiting. In John 5, a man sat by a pool for thirty-eight years waiting for change, but what he needed wasn’t the water. It was the One who walked toward him.


The pool of Bethesda must have been a busy place that day—five porches full of people waiting for the water to move. They believed if they could be the first one in, they’d be healed.

Among them was one man who had been there a long time—thirty-eight years. “When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been in that condition a long time, He said to him, ‘Wilt thou be made whole?’” (John 5:6).

Thirty-eight years. That’s almost a lifetime.

When I picture him, I see more than a man who couldn’t walk. I see someone who had waited so long that hope itself had grown tired—someone who kept watching others step into what he was praying for. When Jesus asked, “Do you want to be made whole?” it wasn’t just about legs that didn’t work. It was about a heart that had almost stopped believing anything could change.

As I studied this passage, that number thirty-eight stuck with me. The more I thought about it, the more I saw myself in him. Sometimes we wait on something to happen instead of turning to the Someone who can make it happen.

To me, that pool represents what happens when we try to do life without a real relationship with Jesus. We can get caught up in doing all the “right” things—going to church, singing the songs, reading the devotions—and still feel stuck. I’ve done it myself. I’ve walked out of church feeling like I did everything right and still couldn’t shake the emptiness. It reminds me of how God said His people “honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me” (Isaiah 29:13). That one hits close, because I know how easy that is to do.

But maybe you’re not sitting in a church pew at all. Maybe you’ve been hurt by people who claimed to know Jesus. Maybe you’ve wondered if there’s even a place for you. Or maybe you’ve been trying to handle everything alone and wondering why it still feels heavy. Friend, the man by the pool didn’t go looking for Jesus—Jesus came looking for him. And He’ll meet you the same way, right where you are.

It was while preparing to teach this story to my fifth- and sixth-grade Sunday School class that God really got my attention. I thought I was studying to teach them, but the Word was teaching me. Hebrews tells us that “the word of God is alive and powerful” (Hebrews 4:12), and that’s exactly what happened.

As I read, I realized I’d been lying beside my own kind of pool—close to what I wanted but stuck in my head. I have so many dreams and ideas about ministry, but sometimes I overthink them all. One goal turns into ten, and before long, I’ve talked myself right out of moving forward. I tell myself I’m “waiting on God,” but sometimes it’s really fear keeping me still.

Then those words of Jesus jumped off the page: “Rise, take up your bed, and walk.” (John 5:8). I could almost hear Him whisper, “You’ve waited long enough. Get up and move.” Psalm 37:23 says, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord.” Sometimes those steps don’t appear until you start walking.

For years I thought this story was about healing, but it’s really about being made whole. Healing fixes what’s hurting; being made whole changes who you are. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Jesus didn’t just want that man to walk—He wanted to give him a new life.

That’s what He still does. He doesn’t just patch us up; He restores us. He brings peace where pain used to live and purpose where confusion used to sit. I’ve seen that kind of change in women I know—those who’ve walked through shame or loss but now carry quiet confidence because they know who they are in Him. That’s what wholeness looks like. You remember where you’ve been, but you don’t live there anymore.

These days I’m learning that wholeness isn’t a one-time event—it’s something you walk out every single day. Most mornings, before I even get out of bed, I whisper, “Lord, help me hear You before I hurry.” Isaiah talked about that kind of listening when he said God “awakens my ear to hear as the learned” (Isaiah 50:4). Real wisdom doesn’t come from rushing ahead—it comes from slowing down long enough to hear His voice.

I still get distracted. I still chase the shiny some days. But when my mind starts spinning, I stop and remember His words: “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10). My help never came from the water anyway. “My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:2).

So I keep walking—sometimes slow, sometimes shaky—but walking. Because Jesus didn’t just say, “Rise.” He said, “Take up your bed and walk.” That means leave the old place behind and move forward, even if your knees still tremble.

Maybe you’ve been lying beside your own pool—doing all the right things or trying to do everything on your own—and still feeling stuck. Hear Him asking you the same thing He asked that man so long ago: “Do you want to be made whole?”

Wholeness doesn’t mean your life suddenly gets easy. It means your heart finally finds rest. It’s peace instead of striving, purpose instead of paralysis, and grace instead of guilt.

When religion can’t reach you, Jesus will. And when He does, everything changes beside the water.