Passage 📖: John 5: 16 –30

📺 Want to watch the full teaching on YouTube? Click here to watch the Mar 22nd, 2026 Lesson.

🎧 Want to listen to the full teaching on Spotify? Click here to listen to the Mar 22nd, 2026 Lesson.

👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson

Most people don’t struggle with the idea of God—they struggle with Jesus. It’s easier to believe in something higher, something distant, something undefined. But when that idea of God becomes personal—when it takes on a voice, a face, a claim—it forces a different kind of response. Because now it’s no longer just about belief; it’s about what you do with the one standing in front of you. In John 5, a miracle has just taken place. A man who couldn’t walk for thirty-eight years is now walking. But instead of celebration, it sparks a confrontation that quickly turns into something much deeper—not a debate about what happened, but a question about who Jesus really is.

Last week, we looked at John 5:1–15 and the story of a man who had been unable to walk for thirty-eight years—a situation that had lasted so long it no longer felt temporary, but permanent. Day after day, he sat beside the pool of Bethesda, surrounded by a system that promised healing but rarely delivered it. He watched others move ahead while his own life stayed the same, and over time, it’s easy to imagine how hope would begin to shrink—how waiting would turn into settling, and settling into believing that nothing would ever change. But Jesus stepped directly into that place. He didn’t help the man try harder within the system or ask him to position himself better. Instead, He asked a question: “Do you want to be healed?” And with a single sentence—“Get up, pick up your mat, and walk”—Jesus did what thirty-eight years of waiting never could. The moment revealed something powerful: what feels permanent to us is not permanent to Jesus, and often the places where we’ve stopped expecting change are the very places where He chooses to begin His work.

Missed the teaching? Click here to read or watch the full lesson.

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.

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[e] 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.“I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge, and my judgment is just, because I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me.

This moment takes place immediately after the healing at the pool of Bethesda. A man who had been unable to walk for thirty-eight years is now walking through the city carrying his mat. But instead of celebration, the miracle creates tension. The religious leaders confront the man—not because he was healed, but because it happened on the Sabbath. Very quickly, their attention shifts from the man to Jesus, and what began as a moment of restoration becomes a public confrontation. In first-century Jewish life, the Sabbath was one of the most important practices, meant to be a gift—a day of rest, worship, and trust in God. But over time, detailed rules had developed around it, including restrictions on carrying objects like the man’s mat. So when the leaders see him walking, they don’t first see a miracle—they see a broken rule. They are responding within a system they believe protects faithfulness to God, yet in doing so, they miss what God is actually doing right in front of them.

When Jesus responds, He doesn’t apologize or step back. Instead, He says, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” In that culture, this is a striking claim. Referring to God as “my Father” was already personal, but what makes it explosive is the implication that His work is directly aligned with God’s ongoing work. The leaders understand this clearly—Jesus is not just defending Himself; He is making Himself equal with God. This shifts the tension from a debate about the Sabbath to a deeper question of identity. In the ancient world, a son represented the continuation of his father’s life and work—learning from him, imitating him, and acting with his authority. So when Jesus says, “The Son can do nothing by Himself; He can do only what He sees the Father doing,” He is describing perfect alignment, not limitation. He is claiming that everything He does reflects the Father completely. As He continues, He speaks of authority to give life, raise the dead, and execute judgment—things that, in Jewish understanding, belonged to God alone. Beneath the surface, there are two very different ways of seeing: the religious leaders see a rule being broken, while Jesus reveals a reality they are not prepared for. A miracle has happened and a life has been restored, yet instead of asking what happened, the deeper question becomes, “Who is the one who did it?”

Most people are comfortable with the idea of God—a higher power, something spiritual, something bigger than us. But when it comes to Jesus, people often hesitate. “I believe in God… I’m just not sure about Jesus.” “I’m spiritual, but not religious.” “I think God is love, but I don’t know what to do with Christ.” And into that kind of thinking, this moment speaks directly. Because Jesus doesn’t present Himself as a messenger pointing toward God from a distance. He says something far more personal: “The Son can do nothing by Himself; He can do only what He sees the Father doing.” In that culture, a son didn’t act independently—he learned from his father, reflected his father, and carried his father’s work forward. So when Jesus says this, He is not lowering Himself; He is revealing alignment. He is saying: what I do is what the Father is doing, how I act is how the Father acts—if you see Me, you are seeing Him.

This means Jesus is not just teaching about God—He is showing us exactly what God is like. And that changes everything. Because many of us carry assumptions about God—that He is distant, unpredictable, disappointed, or hard to understand. But then you look at Jesus. You see who He moves toward, how He treats the overlooked, the authority in His words and the compassion in His actions. And suddenly, God is no longer abstract—He is visible, personal, and knowable. Which means if you want to understand God, you don’t have to guess—you look at Jesus. And that creates a deeper question for all of us: if Jesus truly reveals God, then He is not just someone to learn from, but someone to respond to. You can’t keep Him at a distance while claiming belief in God or reduce Him to a teacher while ignoring what He reveals. At some point, you have to decide what to do with Him. Because if Jesus shows us what God is like, then trusting Him becomes a response to what has already been revealed.

In this moment, Jesus is not just explaining Himself—He is making a claim. Not just about what He can do, but about who He is. He says the Father has given Him authority—authority to give life, authority to judge, authority that belongs to God alone. And that forces a deeper question: if this is true, what does that mean for how we respond to Him? In everyday life, we trust voices based on authority. We trust doctors because of their training, experts because of their experience, and data because it has been tested. Authority determines trust. But when it comes to Jesus, many of us reverse that pattern. We treat His words like suggestions—ideas to consider or advice we can take or leave depending on how it fits our lives. But Jesus is not presenting Himself as one voice among many. He is saying His words carry the authority of the Father, which means this isn’t just about agreement—it’s about trust.

Because if Jesus truly has authority over life, then His words are not limited by what we see, what feels possible, or what our circumstances suggest. They carry weight even before anything changes. And that’s where this becomes personal. Most of us have been trained to trust after we see results—we want confirmation, evidence, outcomes first. We say, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” But Jesus invites something different. He invites trust before the outcome—trust in what He says even when the situation hasn’t changed, the answer hasn’t come, and nothing looks different on the surface. And that’s not blind faith—it’s a response to who He is. Because if Jesus has authority over life, then His voice is more reliable than our circumstances, more stable than our emotions, and more trustworthy than what we can measure. So the question this passage leaves us with is simple: whose voice are you trusting most right now—your fear, your past, your situation, or His? Because if Jesus truly has authority, then trusting Him is not a risk—it’s the most reasonable response we can make.

In this moment, the tension is no longer just about what Jesus has done—it’s about what people will do with what He has said. The religious leaders have seen the miracle, heard His explanation, and understood the claim He’s making, and yet they don’t move toward Him—they resist. Which reveals something important: being close to Jesus is not the same as responding to Him, and hearing truth is not the same as receiving it. That tension runs all the way through this passage. Jesus speaks about people hearing His voice, about life being found in Him, and about a response that leads to something real. Because in the Kingdom, transformation doesn’t come from exposure—it comes from response.

And that challenges something in all of us. We live in a world full of information—we listen, we learn, we take in ideas and truth—but it’s possible to hear something clearly and still not let it change you. It’s possible to understand and still not respond. And that’s where this becomes personal. You don’t have to reject Jesus to miss what He’s offering—you can simply stay passive. You can hear and not move, agree and not act. But Jesus doesn’t just speak to inform—He speaks to invite, to call something out of us, to move us toward trust, surrender, and action. So the question this passage leaves us with is simple: where is Jesus asking you to respond—not in theory, not someday, but right now? Because real life doesn’t begin when you hear His voice—it begins when you respond to it.

At the beginning of this moment, it looked like a simple conflict—a man was healed, a rule was broken, and a disagreement followed. But as the conversation unfolds, it becomes clear that this was never just about the Sabbath; it was about who Jesus is. Because standing in front of them was not just a teacher or a healer, but someone making a claim that changed everything—that He is aligned with the Father, that He reveals the Father, and that He carries the authority of the Father. And yet, despite seeing the miracle and hearing His words, the religious leaders miss it—not because they lacked information, but because they never moved from hearing to responding. And that’s where this story becomes more than history; it becomes a mirror. Because we can find ourselves in the same place—understanding the message, agreeing with the truth, respecting the teaching, and still keeping Jesus at a distance, still treating His words as optional, still delaying the response.

But this passage won’t let us stay there. It keeps pressing the question: if this is who Jesus is, what will you do with Him? Because if Jesus truly reveals God, then He is not someone you can redefine. If He truly has authority, then His words are not something you can casually set aside. And if He is speaking, then the invitation is not just to listen—it’s to respond. Not someday, not when it’s convenient, not when everything makes sense—but now. Because the difference between those who experienced life in this story and those who missed it was not proximity, but response. So as this moment closes, the question doesn’t stay with them—it moves to us: whose voice are you trusting, what are you doing with what you’ve heard, and where is Jesus inviting you to respond today? Because when you begin to trust the One who reveals God and respond to the One who speaks with authority, you don’t just understand the Kingdom—you step into it.

Blessings,

Michael

Most retirement plans underestimate two things: how long your savings need to last, and how quietly inflation erodes them along the way.

The 15-Minutes Retirement Plan helps you close both gaps with practical guidance on longevity risk, purchasing power, and building a financial plan that doesn't run out before you do.

If you have $1,000,000 or more saved, download your free guide to start.

Download Your Free Guide.