1,553 words, 8 minutes read time.
Imag Source: The AI Pixel Prophet
My name is Eliab, and I want to share my journey—a testimony of healing, despair, and the moment my life transformed forever. For thirty-eight long years, I lay paralyzed beside the Pool of Bethesda, waiting for a miracle that felt like a distant dream. The pool, a place of both hope and heartbreak, became my world, filled with the stories of others who came seeking healing, much like I had. It was a place where people gathered in the shadow of their suffering, yearning for the stirring of the waters, believing that one moment could change everything.
The Pool of Bethesda, located in Jerusalem, was known for its extraordinary legend. The waters were said to be stirred by an angel, granting miraculous healing to the first person who entered after the stirring. But that miracle had always eluded me. Each time the waters churned with the promise of hope, I could only watch as others, stronger and more fortunate, surged forward. The years turned into a cycle of despair; the cries of the healed echoed in my heart, but I remained trapped in my own body, waiting for a glimmer of hope that seemed forever out of reach.
I was not born this way. As a child, I was full of life, running through the bustling streets of Jerusalem, filled with laughter and dreams. However, at twelve, everything changed. A fever swept through my village, and I fell victim to its wrath. In its aftermath, I was left paralyzed, confined to a mat, my body refusing to respond as my spirit fought to survive. I became a fixture at the pool, where the air buzzed with anticipation and the scent of desperation lingered like a shroud. Each day, my mother would carry me to the edge of the pool, hoping that today would be different.
The pool was bordered by five covered porches, where the sick, the blind, and the lame gathered like moths drawn to a flame. We shared our tales of suffering, and within that shared pain, a sense of camaraderie blossomed. I learned the faces of hope and despair, recognized the whispers of longing, and embraced the silence of resignation. We were a motley crew, each of us waiting for a miracle, each of us carrying our burdens, hoping for an angel’s touch.
Over the years, I witnessed countless miracles—the blind seeing, the lame walking, and the sick being healed. Each time the waters stirred, I felt a rush of hope, but it quickly turned to anguish as I realized I could not move. I had seen others jump in with desperation, emerging with joy and life renewed, while I remained a prisoner in my own body. The ache in my heart was a constant companion, a reminder of my inability to join them in their healing.
Yet there was a day, unlike any other, when everything changed. I remember it vividly—the sun was shining bright, and the cries of the sick filled the air. I lay on my mat, feeling the rough fabric beneath me, when suddenly I felt a presence beside me. I opened my eyes to see a man standing there, His gaze warm and inviting. His demeanor was unlike anyone I had encountered before, radiating a sense of peace that calmed the chaos surrounding us.
“Shalom,” He said, His voice soothing amidst the din. “Do you want to be healed?”
The question caught me off guard. Who was this man? I looked up at Him, confusion swirling in my mind. “Who are you?” I managed to ask.
“I’ll get to that later,” He replied gently, His eyes never leaving mine. “But my question remains: will you take me to the water?”
I felt a wave of frustration crash over me. “Look, I’m having a really bad day,” I said, my voice tinged with despair. “I’ve been having a bad day for a long time.”
The man paused, His expression unwavering. “You’ve been having a bad day for a long time,” He acknowledged. “But that’s not what I asked. Do you want to be healed?”
My heart sank. I thought of all the times I had tried and failed, all the moments of false hope that had left me more broken than before. “Sir, I have no one to help me into the water when it’s stirred up, and when I do get close, the others step down in front of me,” I admitted, my voice cracking.
“Look at me,” He insisted, cutting through the fog of despair. “That’s not what I asked. I’m not asking you about who’s helping you or who’s not helping or who’s getting in your way. I’m asking about you.”
His words pierced through my defenses, and for the first time, I began to reflect on my own desires, my own needs. “I’ve tried for a long time,” I finally confessed, tears welling in my eyes. “I know, and you don’t want false hope again. I understand, but this pool—it has nothing for you. It means nothing, and you know it, but you’re still here. Why?”
I hesitated, grappling with the truth in His words. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“You don’t need this pool,” He said softly, His tone filled with conviction. “You only need me.”
In that moment, something shifted within me. I felt a flicker of hope, a spark igniting in the darkness. “So… do you want to be healed?” He asked again, and I knew deep down that I had to take a leap of faith.
“Yes,” I replied, my heart pounding. I felt vulnerable yet hopeful.
“Then get up, pick up your mat, and walk,” He commanded.
With those words, I felt a surge of energy flow through me, a warmth spreading through my limbs. I struggled to sit up, the rough fabric of my mat scratching against my skin, and then—miraculously—I stood. I could feel the ground beneath my feet for the first time in years. It was a sensation I had forgotten, and I took a tentative step, then another. Each movement felt foreign yet exhilarating.
As I walked, disbelief coursed through me. I was free! The sounds of the pool faded into the background as I made my way through the throngs of people. I turned to find the man who had healed me, wanting to express my gratitude, but He had vanished into the crowd. My heart raced with a mix of joy and confusion. How had this happened?
Before I could catch my breath, I was confronted by a crowd of onlookers, their faces a blend of curiosity and suspicion. “Who told you to take up your bed and walk?” they demanded, their voices rising in a cacophony of questions.
“The man who healed me,” I replied, my voice strong yet unsure. “He told me to take up my bed and walk.”
“Who is this man?” they pressed, their skepticism palpable.
I shook my head, feeling a sense of loss as the man melted into the crowd. I hadn’t thought to ask His name, only feeling the rush of joy at my newfound freedom.
Hours later, I found myself in the temple, still reeling from the miracle that had unfolded. The familiar sounds of worship enveloped me—the rustle of scrolls, the hum of prayer—but my heart was still racing, filled with questions. And then, there He was again, the man who had healed me, standing nearby with a serene expression.
“See, you have been made well,” He said, His voice a gentle reminder. “Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you.”
His words washed over me, a comforting balm to my racing heart. I felt a swell of gratitude and awe, mingled with a twinge of guilt. “Who are you?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.
“I am the one who gives life,” He replied softly, and in that moment, I understood that His power was not just to heal the body but to restore the soul.
As I left the temple that day, my heart was lighter, and I carried the weight of my mat, now a symbol of my past, and the promise of a new beginning. The waters at Bethesda had stirred that day, but it was not the pool that had healed me; it was the man who walked among us, offering hope and life in a world filled with despair.
I was no longer a prisoner of my past but a testament to the power of faith and the grace of the one who loved me first. The miracles I had witnessed throughout my life paled in comparison to my own healing, a reality that had taken root in my heart.
Every step I took away from the pool was a step towards freedom. I knew I would never forget the day I was healed at the Pool of Bethesda. The stories of miracles were no longer distant legends; they had become my truth. I had witnessed the power of healing, and I would carry that truth in my heart for all my days. Everything had changed now, and I was ready to embrace this new life, filled with possibilities and a future I had once thought was lost forever.
