Jail Bible Study on John 5:1-9 – the pool at Bethesda

by Amy Muia

¹After these things there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. ²Now there is in Jerusalem by the sheep gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew Bethesda, having five porticoes. ³In these lay a multitude of those who were sick, blind, lame, and withered, [waiting for the moving of the waters; ⁴for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool and stirred up the water; whoever then first, after the stirring up of the water, stepped in was made well from whatever disease with which he was afflicted.] ⁵A man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. ⁶When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been a long time in that condition, He said to him, "Do you wish to get well?" ⁷The sick man answered Him, "Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me." ⁸Jesus said to him, “Get up, pick up your pallet and walk.” ⁹Immediately the man became well, and picked up his pallet and began to walk.

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On Sunday, Sara and I met with the M&M pod (medical and medium security) in one of the little conference rooms in the Skagit County Jail. Four women came—two trustees in bright orange uniforms, and two women with medical problems. One had broken her back and neck in a car accident. The other, a native woman, was six weeks into a high-risk pregnancy—at thirty years old, she has had five miscarriages, all drug-use and domestic violence related.

We began by reading the story of the crippled man at the pool of Bethesda. We asked the women, “What stands out to you in the story?”

“The man had a lot of faith,” one of the trustees said. “He waited and waited until God answered him.”

This has been a common answer when we’ve looked at this text in the past. The women immediately assume that the man had great faith, and therefore was rewarded by God. “I see that the man had perseverance,” I said, wanting to give weight to the woman’s idea. “But did he really show evidence of great faith?”

We talked about how the man didn’t have much choice but to lie beside the pool. It was the hospital of the day, Sara observed. But it doesn’t look like a place of much hope. There doesn’t seem to be enough. All those sick people, and the angel only comes once in a while, for one person.

“Do we experience this ‘lack of enough’ in the world today?” The women agree. There aren’t enough treatment beds for addiction programs, so lots of people sit in jail, waiting. There aren’t enough social services. There isn’t enough money to pay bills. There isn’t enough hope or strength to keep going.

We look at the text again. “Does the man answer Jesus with great faith?” I ask. The women are quiet, reflecting. “He seems to offer an excuse,” Sara says. “’Someone always gets into the pool in front of me.’ He doesn’t even say that he wants to be well, when Jesus asks him.”

“Why do you think Jesus even asks him, ‘do you want to be well?’” I propose.

We talk about the role of our desires, of readiness. The woman who has suffered the miscarriages begins to speak. She’s on the verge of tears. “I feel like God’s always been waiting for me. Like God is ready, but I’m not ready.” She relates a story of praying with a friend who was sick. “I was there, commanding the pain to leave, and I was snapping my fingers, just like you guys do . . . and suddenly the presence of God was in the room, and we were lying on the floor all night with our hands in the air, just saying ‘thank you, God!’”

She continues, “But it’s so much easier just to do what I’ve been doing since I was thirteen . . . sell drugs, sell my body, steal things from stores. Instead of doing what I should be doing, I go back to what I’ve always done. ‘It will be so much easier just to do it this way,’ I tell myself. ‘I’ll save so much more money if I just do this.’ And God is standing there asking me, ‘I’m here. What are you waiting for?’”

“What I love about this story is that Jesus heals the man both from his sickness, and his excuses,” Sara says. We talk about how Jesus is enough . . . it doesn’t matter that someone else was always ahead of the man, or that there wasn’t enough angel-power to heal everyone. Jesus doesn’t wait for the angel. He just heals the man.

The trustee says again, “The man had a lot of faith. He just kept staying there until it happened. . .”

“True,” Sara says. “But Jesus pulled ‘someday’ into ‘now.’ Is there anything we’d like to see happen now, instead of waiting for ‘someday’? Something we’d like to ask Jesus for?”

The women name the things that are on their hearts: more hope, more strength, physical healing, protection for the baby. We take turns praying for each woman. The session stretches on in a beautiful way. It turns out there is a fight in one of the men’s pods. We can’t be released from the conference room until it’s dealt with, so we have extra time. We keep praying.

Suddenly a Scripture drops into my mind as we’re praying for the woman with the broken neck. “I feel like God wants you to know that he neither slumbers nor sleeps.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to deflect attention from herself. But Sara presses further. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“Actually I stay awake all night and sleep during the day. I can avoid all the drama that way. I have my ear plugs and my eye-shade, and I sleep all day. Then I stay up at night, when it’s calmer and I have some time to myself.”

“I guess God is saying that he’s awake, too—he’s with you through the night. He’s near you,” I say. We turn to Psalm 121 and read: I will lift my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come? My help comes from the Lord. He will not allow your foot to slip; he who keeps you will not slumber . . .”

The woman deflects again, awkward from the focus on herself. There are tears in her eyes. “I’m worried about Wendy’s baby,” she says. “That’s why I’m crying.”

We pray for the other women, and end with a song. The guard comes in to retrieve Wendy; she’s being released on bail. We laugh about verse 8: He will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever... The women thank us for coming, and we thank them for their transparency and humility in sharing their stories. May God keep us all.

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zach, a man of joy!

This is the second 700 Club interview to feature Tierra Nueva!

Click here to view the video of Zach Joy, coffee project manager, telling the testimony of how God changed his life after 17 years of drug addiction and violence.

Zach is one of our most precious friends, with a powerful story to tell! When you're finished with this video, scroll down to the next video about Ramon Luna.

from violence to forgiveness

TN Spanish-worship leader and lay pastor Ramon Luna (pictured center) appeared this month on the 700 Club, telling his testimony of forgiveness and how God changed his life through the jail ministry of Tierra Nueva.

Not to be missed! Click here to watch the video. It's amazing how God continues to bring different streams of the body of Christ together!

the face of forgiveness

by Sara Wevodau

It was the week after Amy had prayed for legal miracles in the jail with the women and I was there to find out what might have happened. Not surprisingly, two women had experienced exactly that. One had been given custody of her son. Another had her sentence shortened when a mistake was found in her paperwork (they rarely re-read paperwork, but she had asked a question they couldn't answer).

As I listened to their excited stories, a new woman with dark circles around her eyes who was listening turned to me, saying that she was considering forgiving her mom for 26 years of pain in her life, but that pride was getting in the way. So the woman whose sentence had just been cut down and I were all ears. The more we talked, she seemed to be realizing the way her unforgiveness was keeping her from experiencing freedom and healing in her own life, even though it gave her a kind of power to hold her mom at fault for the very real ways she was wronged and abandoned. She was realizing that unforgiveness is a tremendous burden to carry and Jesus' invitation to throw it at his feet was looking more and more attractive.

But she was self-conscious, didn't want to pray in front of people. She would do it later that night, alone. So we asked if we could pray for pride and shame to get out of the way and for the courage to follow through. By the time we had finished praying for her and blessing her, she had suddenly changed her mind and wanted to pray right then. After assuring her that it was okay not to close her eyes and that there was no right way to do it, we put our heads down on the table so she could not feel watched, just supported.

What proceeded was one of the most beautiful unreligious prayers I've heard in a long time. She chose to not only release her mom and to bless her, but entirely unprompted, said, "Jesus, I want to walk through the gate of life with you and have you with me instead of the heavy things I've been carrying."

When I lifted my head, there were tears in my eyes. "Did I do it right?" she asked. "That was so powerful," was all I could reply.

Over the next ten minutes, I watched this woman changing before my eyes. She was suddenly smiling, visibly lighter, asking me to teach them all a song that they could sing while they clean the jail at night. Her releasing had released her--and she was putting a face on forgiveness in a drastic way, turning into a new creation right in front of me.

So while she's locked up the next five months for identity theft, will you pray with us, that a new identity as a child of God would spread out in Cindy* and strengthen her for a hard life on the outside.

*name changed

a model of local christian economics

by Chris Hoke

Recently at our Spanish-and-Mixteco Language Service, Evaristo brought his mother for the first time. She is out of work, and trying to make ends meet, and so made 120 tamales to sell for a dollar each. Evaristo asked if I knew anyone who would want to buy some. I told him to bring his mom, as many tamales as she could make and come to the soup gathering after our English Language service. Epifania, a shy, indigenous Oaxacan migrant, a single mother of four came with her cooler of tamales and sold them all. We invited her to come downstairs for our Spanish-Mixteco Language service. The text was about Jesus, the good shepherd who gathers scattered sheep and brings them to pastures where they can eat and drink and be together.

After the service, she explained that work has run dry, and she is prepared to go back down to Oregon for two months for a secure job picking mistletoe. She would still pay rent at her one bedroom apartment, but doesn't want her two youngest kids there alone. Her request was whether Janet, 14, and Junior, 11, could sleep for two months at the Tierra Nueva building where her son Evaristo was now living with his wife Alicia and baby Alex.

The situation would be strained, and against our building policy at this point. Not to mention a burden to the newly married couple, and hard on the two kids to be away from their mother so long. It didn't look good, we told her, but we could pray and ask God for a solution, a salida, a way out. We would seek this Jesus we'd just read about, who offers to provide for us as a shepherd, and gather us with other sheep.

Her plan was to leave Wednesday morning. Every normal farm we mentioned, she said they weren't hiring as the season is over.

As we prayed, I kept getting the sense that God would give her an unexpected job, tomorrow, Monday. But I didn't share that. When finished praying, and before saying goodnight, Bob said, "What's the name of that one farmer...?" and we gave him a call. A good man who had employed migrant friends of ours in the past. The season was over, but we gave the man a call, and he invited her to an interview the next morning!

Listen to this. After asking a few last questions about her character, he told me he couldn't hire new workers at the farm as he has to lay off the season's workers this week. His plan, then, was to put Epifania on his payroll, but that she would work at a thrift store that supports a local Christian school.

"So...you're paying for her hours, for nothing--essentially donating labor to another business? To give Epifania, a woman you just met, a job?"

"Yes," the Dutch farmer explained cheerily in his singsong voice. "Am I making sense to you? I don't need labor here now, but you and Bob said you needed help. So I'll employ her to work at this other business where she can be around English speaking people, learn English, see? She can get off by 2:30 to pick up her daughter after school, see? She needs to be with her kids, not off in Oregon, right? And I figure that will be enough to meet the amount of money she told me she would need each week. She starts this Wednesday morning."

"Wow!" I was in disbelief, so used to fanagling with unbudging lawyers, judges, social workers, and employers. "You're a total minister!"

"Oh, we were put on earth to do more than collect money and stuff," he said with no preachy air, this Dutch immigrant who knows what it is to be a foreigner, and a Christian, even if he isn't as involved in the CRC church services so much these days. "We live in a society where we have more stuff than the whole world put together, and people are miserable everywhere you go in this country. That's the way I see it."

"Oh," he continued, "I also gave her daughter Janet a job. I told her if her mom has been in the states for ten years now, and should learn English! So I'm paying the girl one hour every day to teach her mom English. You know, told her to get simple Dr. Suess books and start with that an hour a day. So Janet's on the payroll now, too, right after school gets out."

I can't tell you how happy I am, so surprised. What if this is an example of "sustainable community," "Kingdom economics," or faith-based initiatives? Not a program, but a spirit that makes anything possible if you're converted on a heart level. Epifania got more than she expected, I think, on her first visit to "church." I'm happy to be part of such a Body as this in our valley. May Jesus be the one who gathers us, keeps us from being scattered by environmental forces, and guides us to green pastures to grow together in His presence.

this has to be a trick!

by Amy Muia

Last Sunday as I was preparing to visit the women in the jail, I asked Jesus what Scripture he wanted to bring. The story of Jacob's dream clearly came to mind.

It makes sense; Jacob was on the run after committing the crime of theft. I was sure the women could relate--many of them were brought in on warrants for their arrest. They are used to evading the law.

"Jacob is the last person you would expect to get a visit from God," I told them. "Here he is, lying on the ground with a rock for a pillow . . . "

"Kind of like our jail cots," one woman says. The others laugh.

We continue to read the story. Suddenly the Lord shows up and blesses Jacob with an open heaven experience, and a promise of blessing not only for himself, but his children. We talked about how we sometimes feel like we don’t deserve a visit from God, but how God is eager to bless us, and not just us, but our kids. We talked about how Jacob felt the only way he could get what he needed was to steal it, but here was the Lord, eager to give everything to him and more.

The women shared testimonies of times when they felt that God was very near to them . . . some amazing stories. Then we prayed together. Several of the women had pain, so we asked God for an open heaven in the jail, and had the women lay their own hands on themselves. They prayed a simple prayer, “God, I thank you that you’re my healer. I receive my healing now in Jesus’ name.” Then I commanded all pain to go, in Jesus’ name.

Suddenly one of the women, who had been smirking a little bit through the lesson, began shaking her head and saying, “No way, no way. This is some kind of trick! No way. Huh-uh.” She was shaking her finger at the other women, as if they were all in on some kind of joke.

I said, “Your pain is all gone, isn’t it?”

She said, “This isn’t true.” But then she stuck her face inside her uniform shirt--the only place one could find privacy in the jail--and began sobbing. All her pain had gone. The other women were crying too, because they knew she had been in so much pain that she couldn’t sit up straight. It was definitely an open heaven moment!

Of all the women in the room, she was the "least likely" to receive a touch from God. She came without faith, without focus, interest, or expectation. And yet it was God's pleasure to open the heavens above her and meet her need.

May God bless you with an open heaven today!

Luke 21:28 Straighten up and lift up your heads, for your redemption is drawing nigh!