A Time for Healing

Most people know about the story of the healing of the lame man at the pool of Bethesda.  Jesus healed one man then left.  There was a multitude of people there hoping to be healed.  Why didn’t Jesus heal them all?  He wasn’t there to heal them all physically.  He was there to plant a seed.

Jesus spent a fair amount of time in Jerusalem.  He observed all of the rituals and regularly spoke in the temple.

Acts 3:2  And a man lame from birth was being carried, who they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple.(ESV)

This man saw Peter and John coming in for prayers.  He asked them for alms.  Rather than giving him money they healed him.

This man had lain by the gate every day for decades.  That meant that Jesus had walked right by him at least once.  Jesus never healed him.  Why not?

Jesus knew that this man was going to be healed but that the fruit of the miracle would be that much richer because the timing was right.

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Who am I?

I’ve walked a path I didn’t ask for, guided by a God I can’t ignore. I don’t wear titles well—writer, teacher, leader—they fit like borrowed armor. But I know this: I’ve bled truth onto a page, challenged what I was told to swallow, and led only because I refused to follow where I couldn’t see Christ.

I don’t see greatness in the mirror. I see someone ordinary, shaped by pain and made resilient through it. I’m not above anyone. I’m not below anyone. I’m just trying to live what I believe and document the war inside so others know they aren’t alone.

If you’re looking for polished answers, you won’t find them here.
But if you’re looking for honesty, tension, paradox, and a relentless pursuit of truth,
you’re in the right place.

If you’re unsure of what path to follow or disillusioned with the world today and are willing to walk with me along this path I follow, you’ll never be alone. Everyone is welcome and invited to participate as much as they feel comfortable with.

Now, welcome home. I’m Don.

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