Hi, I'm Joni Eareckson Tada and here’s a hymn that I always sing when I’m hurting, when I’m struggling, when I just don’t want Jesus to pass me by. I sing this as a prayer:
Pass me not, Oh Gentle Savior
Hear my humble cry.
While on others thou art calling
Do not pass me by.
Savior, Savior, hear my humble cry
While on others thou art calling
Do not pass me by.
I cannot tell you how many times I used to sing this as a prayer when I was first injured in the hospital. This is how the hymn would connect: You see, I would picture that passage in John 5 where disabled people came to the pool of Bethesda to be healed. And I would imagine myself among the many that day when Jesus walked by the pool. I’d picture the columns, the porches. I felt the dry, dusty air. And I would envision Jesus walking among the others, healing them, touching them, and I would plead, “Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus, don’t pass me by!” I would see myself on a straw mat, Jesus approaching, his eyes meeting mine, him sensing my desperation, stepping over others to kneel by me, reaching down, touching my cheek and saying, “Yes! Daughter, be healed.” Oh my goodness, the power of that image could even cause a muscle spasm back then, and I would open my eyes, see my hospital room, and I would strain to rise from my bed. Oh, but my legs and my hands never got the message. Back then it seemed as though Jesus had passed me by.
Decades later there was a chance for me and my husband to visit Israel. And there I was visiting Jerusalem. We turned a cobblestone corner and – oh my goodness – look, Ken, here’s the pool of Bethesda; here are the ruins of the colonnades and porches. And look, here are the steps leading down to the water. And sitting there looking over the ruins in my mind’s eye I could picture hundreds of sick and paralyzed people. I turned to Ken and I said, “Oh, sweetheart, you would not believe how many times I used to picture myself here.” I scanned the ruins and I whispered, “And now, after so many, many years, I am here; I’m here.”
Tears literally welled in my eyes that day. “I made it,” I said, resting my arm on the guardrail. “And Ken, Jesus did not pass me by. He did not overlook me. He did answer my prayer: He said ‘no’ to a request for healing.” And I am so glad because a “no” answer has purged sin from my life, strengthened my commitment to him, forced me to depend on grace, bound me with other believers, fostered sensitivity, disciplined my mind, stretched my hope. Being in this wheelchair has meant knowing Jesus better – feeling his strength every day.
So, friend, if you’re looking for healing, take heart, have courage. Jesus has been listening all along, and in his perfect time, he will answer and not pass you by.
Used by permission of
JONI AND FRIENDS
P.O. Box 3333
Agoura Hills, CA 91376
© Joni and Friends