Baptism of the Lord Sunday
January 12, 2025

What Do You Want?

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor

Psalm 84:1–4
John 5:1–9

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What if you came to worship today to discover that no one else was here. Everyone else had a conflict. Your friends couldn’t make it. The choir all had laryngitis, so they stayed home. The ushers were all attending an ushers convention in Pheonix. You arrive, and it’s just you and, of course, God. But you decided to stay, and in your meditation you had the feeling that God was asking you something. God wanted to know what do you want? What do you really want?

What would you say?

There was a man who had been ill for thirty-eight years. Every day he made his way to a pool. Or maybe he was carried; we don’t know. Somehow he arrives at this pool every day, for thirty-eight years. It was a pool that, under the right circumstances, promised healing. The tradition was every now and then an angel would drag her toe, troubling the water and instilling healing powers. Afterwards the first one to dive in would be healed. Of course, as Fred Craddock points out, such a system will always benefit those who suffer from such maladies as sunburn or dandruff, rather than paralysis (Fred Craddock, The Gospel of John, p. 43).

For thirty-eight years the man came to this pool, and at the end of each day, he returned home, if he had a home, unchanged, still living in the shadow of an unfulfilled promise.

In 1987 Microsoft debuted a new program called Excel. Heard of it? That same year Walter Payton, playing for the Chicago Bears, set the record for rushing touchdowns at 107. The Minnesota Twins won the World Series in 1987. That was also the year that Ronald Reagan called on Mr. Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall. That same year we learned of Oliver North and the rest of the Iran-Contra scandal. There was a fifty-eight-hour rescue operation in Midland, Texas, for eighteen-month-old baby Jessica, who had fallen down a well, and Broadway debuted a new musical, Les Mis. Whiteney Houston sang “I Wanna Dance with Somebody,” and U2 let us know he still hasn’t found what he’s lookin’ for. There were cell phones in 1987. They were about as big as a brick, and in addition to a monthly fee of over $100, each call cost 50 cents a minute.

In less recognized news, in 1987 I was still trying to learn to play “Carry on Wayward Son” on the guitar, and that year I promised to be loving and faithful in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health. In my mind that was the best news of 1987.

That, of course, was thirty-eight years ago. So much has changed. As a matter of fact, it seems that if it was possible to change, it has changed since 1987.

Jesus met a man who had been by this pool for thirty-eight years and asked him,
Do you want to be made well?”

Yes! Finally! At last! For as long as I can remember. I have been waiting for this day since cell phones were as big as a brick.

Of course, that was the man’s response, right? Well, actually no.

The man says, “Sir, I have no one to help me. Someone always beats me into the water.”

Is that yes? Is that no? A definite maybe?

It may seem surprising, but I don’t think this guy knows what he wants. Of course, part of him wants to be healed. Why else would he be at this pool. But on the other hand, after years and years of disappointment, hope can be a risky thing. One thing that comes with age is we learn to make our peace with the way things are.

It’s been so long, I don’t think he knows what he wants.

Do you know what you want?

I am thinking of my mother-in-law right now. She loved to go out to eat. She was a remarkable cook, and my father-in-law loved to save money, so they mostly ate at home. But when they would go out, she would pore over the menu, taking in every cooking style, sauce, and side dish. I just don’t know, she’d say. I haven’t had salmon in so long and it looks so good. “Is your salmon good here?” she would ask. “Oh, no, no, I’ll go with the shrimp. Just can’t go wrong with shrimp.” And without fail, when the meals were brought to the table, she would look at what someone else had ordered and say, “Oh, look at that Tom. I should have ordered the pork chop.”

Sometimes it’s hard to know what we want. And the uncertainty can make us anxious.

Do you know what you want? For yourself? Do you know what you want for your faith? Do you know what you want for our nation?

When we don’t know what we want, it creates anxiety. We can feel frozen, like we are waiting for life to find us. Like we are waiting on our angel to show up and make everything right.

Tim O’Brien writes about his experience of the Vietnam War. The book is called The Things They Carried. His draft number came up. He didn’t want to fight a war he didn’t believe in. He writes, “I hated war. I hated Boy Scouts. I hated camping out. I hated dirt and tents and mosquitoes. … I didn’t know a rifle from a slingshot. I was a liberal for [goodness] sakes.” If they needed fresh bodies, why not draft some guy who believes in this war (Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried, p. 40).

He lived in Minnesota, so he drove north to the Rainy River. An old, backwoods guy named Elroy rented him a room and took him fishing. They sat in his boat on the river contemplating whether to dodge the draft or not. Home on one side of the river; Canada on the other. He writes, “I sat in the boat while Elroy watched his line. I looked at the old man, and then I looked at Canada, and I broke down and wept.” He writes,

“Perhaps you can understand why I’ve never told this story before. It’s not just the embarrassment of the tears. … What embarrasses me much more is the paralysis that took my heart. A moral freeze. I couldn’t decide. I couldn’t act. … I didn’t decide, I just submitted” (O’Brien, p. 54).

He was caught between conflicting wants.

To be human is to live with a fragmented heart. We often want conflicting things and often at the same time. It’s part of every day. As a night person, the best time of the day comes after sunset. I love those late-night hours. But I also like my job, so I’m here now. Hope you’re happy.

To be human is to live with a fragmented heart. Seldom wanting just one thing and often wanting conflicting things. I remember the day my daughter went to college. We dropped her off in the middle of Iowa. God did not wire daddies to leave their daughters in Iowa. I cried all the way home. But here’s the thing. The only thing worse than leaving her at college would be if she had said, “You know, I’ve been thinking it over. I don’t think I’ll go to college. I’ll just live with you guys. Work at the mall.”

No, you can’t do that!

She was doing exactly what I wanted her to do; I just didn’t want what I wanted.

To be human is to live with a fragmented heart.

Jesus asked this man, “Do you want to be made well?”

Well, I don’t have anyone to put me in the water.

But do you want to be well?

Someone always beats me into the water. That’s my problem.

What do you want?

James K. A. Smith says this is the first question that Jesus asks of us: “What do you want?” In his book You Are What You Love, Smith says, “Our wants and longings and desires are at the core of our identity, the wellspring from which our actions and behavior flow” (James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love, p. 2). So what we want matters.

Jesus asks this man what he wants, and he doesn’t know.

So it’s interesting that Jesus didn’t say, “Well, think about it, and I’ll check back in a month.” No, Jesus just heals him.

If I understand the text, it’s clear that Jesus has wants for us. The best way to describe what Jesus wants for us is what he called the kingdom of God, or God’s promised day. A way to think about God’s promised day is in that time we all want what God wants.

Smith says, “Discipleship is a way to curate your heart, to be attentive to and intentional about what you love” (Smith, p. 2).

I will tell you that I believe one of the things we are doing together in worship is rehearsing again and again and again what it is that God wants for us and for you so that we might curate our hearts, align our wants with what God wants.

I think you have been asking that question of yourself as a congregation. What does God want for Fourth Church? You formalized that question in your long-range planning process. The long-range plan for this congregation says we want to be a place of faith formation, a place that feeds your faith. A way to think about that is we endeavor to align our wants with what Christ wants for us.

Discipleship is the practice to curate our hearts to want what God wants.

This past week in a ceremony almost unnoticed because no one cried “stop the steal,” the electoral votes were counted. Those who believe in democracy ensured democracy happened. And a few days later, the nation paused to remember the life of Jimmy Carter. He was many things. Farmer. Governor. President. Global ambassador for peace and health. He could also be a bit prickly, even condescending from time to time. But it cannot be denied that he was a man of character. There was a day when honesty mattered to us as a nation. And I think that character came from more than being a president or governor or world ambassador, because he was first and last a Sunday school teacher. Every Sunday, even Sundays when he was in the Oval Office, he returned to the scripture, to the teachings of Jesus ,to find his north star, his guiding light. To curate his heart to want what God wants.

We all need that.

If you came to worship today to discover that everyone else had a conflict and you were here alone. You and, of course, God. If while you were here you had the feeling that God was asking, “What do you want? What do you really want?” what would you say?

A good place to start is, the truth is, God, I want different things, often conflicting things, but ultimately I want what you want — or at least I want to want what you want.

That’s the best place to start. Because I think that is exactly what God is asking.

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Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church