I did not accomplish my goal yesterday of reading John's 5th chapter. I will today. But I keep going back to the fourth. Our pastor is doing a series of sermons on the book of John. We've spent a couple of Sundays in that fourth Chapter. Last Sunday morning's subject was the father of a sick boy.
If you've ever had a child, at one time or another they've been sick. My girl's had the regular childhood ills and spills, but it was our son that ended up in the hospital over a bite. Three-year-olds understand, "Don't scratch," but even in their sleep the itching draws fingers.
A Saturday evening found him with a 101 fever -- not too bad in the scheme of things. Sunday morning it was two degrees higher. None of the regular flu symptoms, either, so I called the doctor's office and spoke with his service, thinking I could get an early appointment on Monday.
Not so. The doctor called back within the hour and told us to meet him at the hospital. Excuse me? This was the doctor who had taken care of me when I was ten and was diagnosed with leukemia. Which was a misdiagnosis, thank God. Since he had corrected that misconception and had treated me until I was pregnant (yep, he actually gave me a shot when I was pregnant, but that's another story) I trusted him with my son, so we headed for the hospital. We remained there for six days.
Dr. Rubin was treating a boy for a strep infection that had settled in his brain. The first symptoms were the same as my son, so he erred on the side of caution, or was guided by God's hand. Our by had a strep infection that could set up home in a number of ways, so at night we waved goodbye to a toddler standing in a crib, not understanding why. Treatment was successful and we moved on.
It left me with the knowledge, the understanding, of this noble father who loved his son enough to travel about twenty miles to seek healing. Hearing of Jesus, hearing of the healing he had done, he wanted the same for his son.
So Jesus came again into Cana of Galilee, where he made the water wine. And there was a certain nobleman, whose son was sick at Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus was come out of Judaea into Galilee, he went unto him, and besought him that he would come down, and heal his son: for he was at the point of death. (John 4:46-47 KJV)
We would take our children anywhere for healing. Christ understood his reason for being there. It was a last resort trip. The man did not believe it would be fruitful, but he had to try.
Then said Jesus unto him, Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe. (John 4:48 KJV)
We still seek them. "If Jesus was God, he would ...", insert any of the reasons mankind has come up with over the centuries. "... stop all war," "... he would heal all sickness," "... do miracles now." There is no end to what we could decide would be the sign we needed to believe. Yet, this nobleman believed Christ's word.
The nobleman saith unto him, Sir, come down ere my child die. Jesus saith unto him, Go thy way; thy son liveth. And the man believed the word that Jesus had spoken unto him, and he went his way (John 4:49-50 KJV)
Can we? There's a small addendum, though. The father was curious. Was the boy healed before Jesus made his statement?
Then enquired he of them the hour when he began to amend. And they said unto him, Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him. So the father knew that it was at the same hour, in the which Jesus said unto him, Thy son liveth: and himself believed, and his whole house. (John 4:52-53 KJV)
Take that second look. Double check was was said and done. Believe. He is truth.