The Resurrection Voice

The Resurrection Voice

John 5:1–29

There are few places that expose human desperation more honestly than an emergency room waiting room. You walk in surrounded by people who would rather be anywhere else. Some are pacing. Some are holding loved ones. Some are staring at screens, waiting for their name to be called. Everyone there shares one thing in common. Something is wrong, and no one can fix it themselves.

You check in, explain the problem, and then you wait. You watch the doors. You listen for your name. And as the minutes pass, your hope begins to narrow. All you can do is sit there and trust that someone on the other side of those doors has the authority, the skill, and the willingness to help you.

But here is the unsettling reality. Even in the best hospitals, healing is not guaranteed. Doctors can help, but they cannot command life. They can treat symptoms, but they cannot reverse death. The waiting room is filled with hope, but it is also filled with uncertainty.

John 5 opens in a place like that. Bethesda is a kind of waiting room for the broken. Blind, lame, and paralyzed people gather there, watching, waiting, hoping that something will change. But what they are waiting on cannot truly save them. And then Jesus walks in and everything changes.

John 5 marks a turning point in the Gospel. Up to this point, Jesus’ signs have drawn interest, curiosity, and growing belief. But here, healing does not lead to celebration. It leads to hostility. A miracle becomes a courtroom. Mercy becomes an accusation. And Jesus responds not by softening His claims, but by revealing more clearly than ever who He is.

This passage forces us to wrestle with authority. Who has the right to heal? Who has the authority to command life? Who determines judgment? And whose voice ultimately decides our destiny?

John 5 shows us that Jesus does not merely help the broken. He claims the authority of God Himself. And that authority confronts us with a choice. We will either rise at His word, or we will resist Him.

Where are you waiting for life? (John 5:1–4)

John sets the stage for the third sign in John’s gospel. Remember, John gives us specific signs performed by Jesus so that we may believe he is the Messiah and by believing have life in his name. John 5:1–3,

After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. 

John begins with a simple statement: “After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.” The language is restrained, but the moment is loaded. John does not tell us which feast it was, and that omission is intentional. The feast is not the point. Jesus is. Once again, Jesus enters a religious moment, a crowded city, and a familiar rhythm of worship, not to affirm tradition, but to reveal something deeper about God and about ourselves.

Jerusalem during a feast would have been overflowing with people. Pilgrims, sacrifices, songs, prayers, movement everywhere. And yet, Jesus does not begin this scene in the temple courts or among the crowds celebrating. He moves instead toward a place of pain, near the Sheep Gate, where a pool called Bethesda sat beneath five covered colonnades. Remember these are real places. Jesus walked real streets, passed through known gates, and intentionally entered a place marked by suffering.

Under those colonnades lay a multitude of invalids. Blind. Lame. Paralyzed. This is not a scene of sudden crisis, rather long-term brokenness. These are people who have been waiting not for hours, but for years. Bethesda was not a hospital in the modern sense, but it functioned like a waiting room. People gathered there because something was wrong and they could not fix it themselves. They were desperate, yet passive. They watched. They hoped.

Under the colonnades, eyes were fixed on the water, convinced that healing might come if it stirred. Some manuscripts explain the belief, others do not, but John is not interested in how the superstition formed. He wants us to see what it revealed. Their hope was misplaced. They were watching the water instead of watching for God.

That is what makes the scene so tragic. These people were close to religious life. They were in Jerusalem, near the temple, surrounded by spiritual language and expectation. And yet they remained hopeless. Proximity to religion does not produce healing. Being near sacred space does not mean you are trusting the true source of life. Maybe this is a lesson some of us need to learn.. Bethesda exposes an uncomfortable truth. Desperation alone does not lead to salvation. You can be sincere, needy, and still place your hope in the wrong thing. You can long for relief while ignoring the only One who can truly heal.

Anyone who has spent time in an airport understands this. You can sit at the gate for hours, confident you are in the right place, until one announcement changes everything. The destination has not changed and the ticket is still valid, but if you are listening for the wrong voice, you will miss the flight. Bethesda is full of people at the wrong gate, sincere and desperate, because healing does not come when the water moves. It comes when Jesus speaks. Salvation hinges on hearing and responding to the voice with true authority.

In that sense, Bethesda is not just a historical location. It is a spiritual condition. And here is what makes Jesus’ movement so important. He goes there, into the place of long-term brokenness. He steps into a place where hope is weak, expectations have shrunk, and people have learned to live with disappointment. Jesus goes where people are waiting but have not yet been healed.

We should take notice. Jesus is not drawn only to visible success or spiritual excitement. He goes to places where faith has become fragile, where hope has been misplaced, and where waiting has begun to feel permanent. He enters the space where people are convinced that something outside of God must save them.

John is pressing a question into our lives before Jesus ever speaks a word. When we are desperate, where do we wait? What are we watching? What do we believe will finally bring healing? Like an emergency room, Bethesda is filled with people who know they need help, but are unsure where it will come from. And then Jesus arrives to those in desperation.

Do you actually want to be made well? (5:5–9)

Among the many suffering gathered at Bethesda, Jesus fixes His attention on one man. John slows the story down and gives us a specific detail: this man had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. John 5:5–9a,

One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

This is not a recent diagnosis. This is a lifetime of limitation. Decades of waiting. Decades of disappointment. Decades of watching other people move forward while he remains in the same place. Thirty-eight years changes how a person thinks. It reshapes expectations. Over time, hope first becomes cautious, then quiet, then fragile, then almost non-existent. Suffering that lasts that long does not just affect the body. It shapes identity. By the time Jesus meets this man, his brokenness has become familiar. He has learned how to exist without imagining a different future. Maybe you can relate?

John tells us that Jesus sees him lying there. Jesus does not overlook him. He sees him. And then He asks a question that feels almost jarring: “Do you want to be healed?” At first glance, the question sounds unnecessary. Of course he wants to be healed. Why would anyone who has suffered for nearly four decades not want to be healed? But Jesus is not asking because He lacks compassion. He is asking because he understands the human heart. Long-term suffering can quietly reshape desire. Jesus is not asking whether healing is possible. He is asking whether the man truly desires a different life.

That question exposes something in all of us. Over time, we can grow more comfortable explaining our pain and struggle with sin than surrendering it. We can learn how to survive dysfunction without ever expecting transformation. Jesus’ question cuts through that settled resignation and presses the man to consider whether he wants more than relief. Does he want restoration? Do you want restoration?

The man responds honestly, but not expectantly. He explains his situation. He has no one to help him. Others always get there first. His answer is honest and revealing. He never asks Jesus for healing. He simply describes the obstacles. His focus is entirely horizontal. The problem is the crowd. The problem is the timing. The problem is the system. The problem is everywhere but inside.

And this is too often our pattern as well. When Jesus presses close, we explain. We rehearse circumstances. We list barriers. We describe why healing has not happened yet or why we can’t overcome our sinful habits. We speak about what others have done or failed to do. All the while, the Savior stands in front of us, unacknowledged. Desperation does not automatically produce faith, it often produces explanations or excuses instead.

But then Jesus speaks. There is no ritual. No movement toward the water. No buildup. He simply says, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” The command is direct and unmistakable. And immediately, the man is healed. The strength he had not known for decades returns in an instant. Jesus does not need to assist him into standing. He commands him to rise. The prophecy in Isaiah 35:4–6 is fulfilled.

Say to those who have an anxious heart,

“Be strong; fear not!

Behold, your God

will come with vengeance,

with the recompense of God.

He will come and save you.”

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then shall the lame man leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the mute sing for joy.

For waters break forth in the wilderness,

and streams in the desert; 

Jesus does not need conditions to change before He speaks life. He does not wait for the water to stir. He does not wait for help to arrive. His word creates what it commands. The authority to heal does not reside in the man’s effort or in the environment. It resides in the voice of Christ. This is the turning point of the scene. The voice of Jesus cuts through decades of stagnation and brings immediate life. John wants us to see that healing does not come from getting closer to the “water,” or any other false saviors.  It comes from hearing and responding to the Word. So question presses again, do you want to be healed? When Jesus speaks life to us, will we keep explaining our circumstances, or will we trust His authority to give life and true hope where we thought none was possible?

When Jesus says, “Get up,” he is issuing a command. This same command will later echo at the tomb of Lazarus in John 11. Standing before a sealed grave, Jesus will call out, “Lazarus, come out (GET UP!),”and a dead man will rise. In both scenes, the authority does not depend on the condition of the one being addressed. The paralyzed man cannot walk. Lazarus cannot breathe. Yet in both cases, Jesus speaks to death and utter brokenness. His word creates life. What happens at Bethesda is not merely a healing. It is an act of resurrection power breaking into ordinary time. The voice that commands a man to stand after thirty-eight years of paralysis is the same voice that summons the dead from the grave. John has been showing us from the beginning that life comes through the Son. This resurrection power of new life and hope is offered to all who want to be made well. So, do you actually want to be made well?

Why Does Grace Make People Angry? (5:10–18)

John closes the healing scene with a line that feels almost incidental, but it becomes the hinge for everything that follows: “Now that day was the Sabbath” (v. 9b). Up to this point, we have watched Jesus enter Bethesda, single out one man, expose his helplessness, and speak life into a body that had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years. You would expect celebration. Instead, John tells us it was the Sabbath, and everything turns. John 5:9–18,

And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’” They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place. Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him. And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.”

This was why the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God.

The miracle creates conflict with the religious establishment. 

Sabbath controversies were a repeated flashpoint in Jesus’ ministry. The Synoptic Gospels record multiple moments where Jesus’ activity on the Sabbath provoked sharp opposition, and those disputes played a significant role in the growing desire to kill Him. John places this story here not simply because a miracle occurred, but because the Sabbath dispute that follows forces Jesus to reveal who He is with crystal clear clarity. As is so often in John’s Gospel, the issue moves quickly beyond compassion or legal interpretation and straight into the relationship between Jesus and His Father.

Verse 10 shows us the response of the authorities. When John refers to ‘the Jews’ here, he is speaking specifically about the religious authorities in Jerusalem, not the Jewish people as a whole. Although they serve as a representative of the Jewish people, John 1:11,

He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. 

The leaders do not ask how the man was healed. They do not marvel at the mercy of God. They see a lame man leaping like a deer, but they don’t ask., “Could the Messiah be here?” Instead they object to the man carrying his mat. Their reaction reveals how Sabbath observance had come to function. 

The Old Testament forbids work on the Sabbath, but what counts as work had been expanded through rabbinic tradition into thirty-nine prohibited categories, including carrying an object from one domain to another. By Old Testament standards, it is not clear the healed man was guilty, since he did not carry mats for a living. But according to the  “tradition of the elders,” he was clearly in violation.

At this stage, it is not yet Jesus who is charged. It is the healed man who faces their indignation. He responds by saying,“The man who healed me told me to do it.” This pattern should feel familiar. Like his ancient ancestors in the Garden when confronted, he responds in fear. He shifts responsibility from himself to another. How often is this the pattern when we are confronted in our actions? Mercy has reached him faster than courage has formed in him.

The authorities then ask the real question: “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” They understand the danger. An isolated infraction is one thing. A man who authorizes others to violate their code is far more threatening. The irony is sharp. They have heard of a remarkable healing, and they are interested only in the breach of their system. Their certainty blinds them. John will develop this theme further in chapter 9, but the religious leaders, like the prophet Jonah before them, are blind and angry at undeserved grace and to the One who offers it freely.

Jesus has slipped away into the crowd. Later, He finds the man in the temple and speaks words that deepen the scene beyond physical healing: “See, you are well. Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.”Scripture is careful to teach that not all suffering is the direct result of personal sin. Jesus Himself rejects that assumption elsewhere, reminding us that sickness and hardship are not always tied to specific moral failure. There are times when affliction comes with no clear connection to what we have done, serving instead to display God’s glory or to deepen our dependence on Him. At the same time, the Bible is equally honest that there are moments when suffering is a loving and sobering act of divine discipline. God may bring hardship into our lives to arrest us, to expose sin we have grown comfortable with, and to turn our hearts back toward Him. In this passage, Jesus’ warning suggests such a connection, not as a universal rule, but as a particular mercy. Whether suffering comes apart from our sin or in response to it, its purpose is never meaningless. God uses circumstances to draw us to repentance, to loosen our grip on self-reliance, and to sanctify us through renewed hope in Him. Jesus does not merely remove pain; He aims at restoration, calling us to turn to God so that healing of the body would not eclipse the greater healing of the soul. 

Jesus’ warning reminds us that physical suffering, as heavy as it can be, is not the worst possible outcome. To be healed in body while remaining hardened in sin is to face a far greater danger, one that moves beyond temporary affliction to eternal judgment. The most terrifying tragedy is not continued weakness, but to refuse repentance and stand before God unchanged, having ignored the mercy that called us to turn while there was still time.

The man then goes to the authorities and identifies Jesus. Given the hostility already present, this does not read like courageous testimony. It sounds more like an attempt to relieve pressure. This too is a pattern that should feel familiar as we will see another turn Jesus over to the authorities. Verse 16 tells us what follows. The authorities begin persecuting Jesus because He was doing these things on the Sabbath. John’s language suggests this is part of a larger pattern, not an isolated incident.

Now Jesus responds, and His response is unlike anything else in the Sabbath controversies. John says, “Jesus answered them,” using language that carries legal overtones. Jesus offers His defense: “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” He places His activity in the same category as His Father’s. Jewish teachers widely acknowledged that God works on the Sabbath, since providence does not pause. God sustains creation. Jesus takes that shared assumption and applies it to Himself. If the Father works on the Sabbath, so does the Son.

The implication is immediate and explosive. Verse 18 tells us they sought all the more to kill Him because He was calling God His own Father, making Himself equal with God. The issue is no longer carrying a mat. It is blasphemy, at least as they perceive it. Jesus has crossed the line between Creator and creature. John will go on to show that Jesus’ equality with the Father does not mean rivalry or independence, but perfect unity of will and action. Still, the claim stands. Jesus is speaking as only God can speak. Verse 18 is unmistakable. John tells us exactly why they wanted to kill Him: because Jesus was calling God His own Father, making Himself equal with God. Whatever modern objections may say, the people who heard Him knew exactly what He was claiming.

The Sabbath, meant to commemorate God’s rest and goodness, becomes the stage for rejecting the One who gives true rest. The Sabbath was meant to point to more than mere earthly rest. From the beginning, it pointed to God’s rest after creation, a rest that was not inactivity but settled, sovereign rule over a finished work. Israel’s Sabbath was designed to rehearse trust, to remind God’s people that life, provision, and wholeness ultimately come from Him. Over time, however, the Sabbath became reduced to boundary markers and prohibitions, more about guarding tradition than entering rest. By the time of John 5, the sign had lost its meaning for Israel.

When Jesus heals on the Sabbath, he is not rejecting rest, He is revealing it. The Sabbath pointed forward to the day when God would undo the effects of the fall and bring true rest to His people. That is why Jesus can say that His Father is still working and that He is working as well. God’s seventh-day rest has never meant disengagement from the world. It has meant faithful, sustaining, redemptive rule. In healing the man at Bethesda, Jesus shows that real Sabbath rest is found in Him.

When Jesus reveals His authority, the human heart responds in only one of two ways: it worships or it hardens. Like a courtroom verdict that silences every argument, His voice is not one opinion among many but the final word that determines life or judgment. Once that verdict is spoken, Jesus does not debate or defend Himself; He declares the truth that stands forever. 

Whose Voice Will You Answer? (5:19–29)

Jesus now turns from confrontation to declaration. Three times in this section he uses a phrase that signals absolute seriousness: “Truly, truly, I say to you.” This is not filler language. In John’s Gospel, when Jesus says this, He is not merely emphasizing a point. He is placing His words under the highest possible authority. He is saying, in effect, pay attention. John 5:19–29,

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing. And greater works than these will he show him, so that you may marvel. For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will. For the Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. And he has given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment. 

The first comes in verse 19: “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of His own accord, but only what He sees the Father doing.” Jesus is responding directly to the charge that He has made Himself equal with God. But notice how He defines that equality. It is not independent from but in perfect unity with the Father. The Son does nothing from Himself. Everything He does flows from the Father’s will. The Father initiates. The Son acts. There is no rivalry, no competition, no contradiction. This is not the language of a mere prophet. No prophet ever claimed that whatever God does, he does. Jesus is describing a relationship of shared work and shared authority. Whatever the Father does, the Son does likewise. That claim alone demands a response. Either it is blasphemy, or it is true. Either he is the Lord or a liar?

The second “Truly, truly” comes in verse 24, and here Jesus brings the discussion directly to us: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes Him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” Notice the tense. Has eternal life. Has passed. Jesus is not speaking about a distant hope only. He is speaking about a present reality. Eternal life, in John’s Gospel, is not simply endless existence after death. It is a new kind of life that begins now through faith in the Son. Judgment is not merely postponed. It is crossed over. A line has been passed. Death no longer has the final claim. Jesus does not say, whoever improves morally. He does not say, whoever becomes religious enough. He says, whoever hears my word and believes. Eternal life hinges on how we believe the voice of the Son.

Believer, this passage is not only about entering eternal life, but about living it. Too often we trust Jesus for salvation while still lingering in the waiting room, delaying obedience until circumstances improve or clarity comes. But Jesus does not call believers to perpetual waiting. He calls us to resurrection life now, to walk in obedience, to carry what once carried us, and to live in the power of our promised resurrection.

Then comes the third “Truly, truly” in verse 25: “Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.” Jesus is speaking about two realities at once. There is a future resurrection, which He will describe explicitly in verses 28 and 29. But there is also a present resurrection already happening. The dead here are not only those in graves. They are spiritually dead people who are being made alive by hearing His voice. This explains what just happened at Bethesda. A man who could not rise was commanded to stand. It also explains what Jesus claims to be doing now. He is calling the dead to life through His word.

This is a clear and necessary appeal to everyone, especially for anyone listening who would not yet call themselves a Christian. Jesus is not asking you to admire Him. He is claiming authority over your life, your future, and your eternity. He is claiming that your deepest problem is not merely physical, emotional, or circumstantial, but spiritual. And He is claiming that He alone has the authority to address it.

If you are not a Christian, hear this plainly. Jesus is not saying that everyone will be saved. He is not saying that sincerity, even desperation, is enough. He is saying that life comes through hearing His word and believing the One who sent him. There is no neutral ground in this passage. Jesus speaks of two resurrections. One leads to life. The other leads to judgment. Everyone will rise. John 5:28–29,

Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment.

The question is, “Where will we rise?”

What Jesus offers is eternal life. He does not say, try harder and maybe you will be accepted. He says, hear my word and live. That invitation stands now, before the final hour comes. The same voice that will one day call every grave open is already calling all hearts to repentance and faith.

Jesus can speak with this kind of authority because He does not merely command resurrection. He secures it. The voice that tells the paralyzed man to rise is the same voice that will one day cry out from the cross, “It is finished.” Jesus offers life because He first gives His own. He takes our sin upon Himself, bears its full weight, and sheds His blood to satisfy the righteous judgment of God. The death we deserved fell on Him, so that the life He possesses might be given to us. And when He rose from the grave on the third day, He did not rise as a survivor, but as a victor, proving that sin was forgiven, death was defeated, and judgment was exhausted. That is why His voice gives life. Resurrection power flows from a cross where justice was satisfied and a tomb that could not hold Him. The One who calls the dead to rise can do so because He Himself passed through death and emerged with eternal life to give to all who hear His word and believe.

And that brings the passage full circle. In the waiting room at Bethesda, people waited for water to move. Here, Jesus tells us to listen for His voice. Healing does not come from the right conditions. It comes from the right response. The question before us is not whether Jesus speaks with authority. The question is, “How will we respond to his authority?”

In an emergency room, everyone is there because something is wrong. No one walks in casually, and no one leaves without an answer. You are either treated, transferred, or turned away. A decision always comes. Bethesda was a waiting room filled with desperate people, watching the water, hoping something would move. But healing did not come when the water stirred. It came when the Son of God spoke. 

John 5 leaves us with no neutral ground. Jesus does not ask for mild admiration or polite interest. He claims authority over life, judgment, and resurrection. And that authority presses a decision upon us whether we want to make one or not. The same voice that healed the man still speaks today. That voice divides. Some believe while others resist. One day, every person will hear that voice and rise. The only question is how we will rise: to life or judgment. 

Jesus alone has the authority to say to dead hearts, “Get up.” And that invitation is not postponed to some distant future. It is spoken now, while mercy is still being offered and while the door is still open. So do not sit forever in the waiting room. Do not keep watching waiting for something else to move. Hear his word and receive his life today. Because when the final voice is heard, waiting will be over, and it will be too late to decide whether you want to be healed.