Jesus Christ Makes You Whole Text: Acts 9:32-35
Introduction: The Authority of the Name
We live in an age that is desperate for solutions, but allergic to authority. Our culture is filled with paralyzed men, bedridden by relativism, crippled by pathologies of their own making, and yet they will entertain any proposed cure except the one that comes with a command. They want healing without a healer, salvation without a savior, and political order without a king. They want the results of the gospel without the gospel itself. This is the great secular project, and it is an exercise in utter futility. It is like trying to have a functioning automobile after having removed the engine, the transmission, and the wheels.
Into this world of impotence and rebellion, the book of Acts strides with a rugged, masculine authority. The early church was not a support group for the spiritually bewildered; it was an invading army, an embassy of the kingdom of God. And the power they wielded was not their own. It was not positive thinking, or therapeutic technique, or a seven-step program for self-improvement. The power was located entirely outside of themselves, in a name. The name of Jesus Christ.
The incident before us today is a crisp, startling demonstration of this reality. It is a small story, just a few verses tucked away in Luke's narrative. But it is a potent one. It shows us what happens when the authority of Heaven directly intersects with the brokenness of earth. It is a story about a real man, with a real paralysis, who encounters a real apostle, armed with the only real power in the universe. And the result is not just a healed body, but a transformed community. This is because a true miracle is never just a spectacle. It is a sign. It points to the reality that the King has been raised from the dead, and He is now putting the world to rights, one healed paralytic, one converted town at a time.
We must understand that what Peter does here is not repeatable in the same way today, because Peter was an apostle, and the apostles were the foundation of the church, with Christ as the cornerstone. Their miracles were authenticating signs for the delivery of new revelation. But the power behind the miracle, the authority of the risen Christ, has not diminished one bit. The same Jesus who healed Aeneas is the Lord we serve, and He is still in the business of making men whole.
The Text
Now it happened that as Peter was traveling through all those regions, he came down also to the saints who lived at Lydda. And there he found a man named Aeneas, who had been bedridden eight years, for he was paralyzed. And Peter said to him, "Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you. Rise up and make your bed." Immediately he rose up. And all who lived at Lydda and Sharon saw him, and they turned to the Lord.
(Acts 9:32-35 LSB)
The Apostolic Circuit (v. 32)
We begin with the simple context of Peter's ministry.
"Now it happened that as Peter was traveling through all those regions, he came down also to the saints who lived at Lydda." (Acts 9:32)
The persecution that arose after Stephen's martyrdom had scattered the church from Jerusalem. But you cannot scatter Christians like you scatter cockroaches. When you scatter Christians, you scatter seed. Churches were being planted throughout Judea and Samaria. Peter is not on a random road trip; he is on an apostolic inspection tour. He is strengthening the churches, encouraging the saints, and exercising his apostolic oversight. The church is not a disorganized gaggle of enthusiasts; it is an ordered kingdom, and the apostles were its first governors under Christ.
He comes down to Lydda, a town on the coastal plain, to "the saints." This is the ordinary New Testament word for Christians. A saint is not some kind of spiritual superhero who gets a stained-glass window. A saint is a sinner who has been set apart by God's grace, washed in the blood of Christ, and declared holy for His purposes. If you are a believer in Jesus, you are a saint. The question is not whether you are a saint, but whether you are living like one.
The Chronic Condition (v. 33)
In Lydda, Peter encounters a man defined by his affliction.
"And there he found a man named Aeneas, who had been bedridden eight years, for he was paralyzed." (Acts 9:33)
Luke, the physician, gives us the clinical details. The man's name is Aeneas. His condition is paralysis. The duration is eight years. This is not a recent injury; it is a long-standing, chronic, hopeless condition. For eight years, this man's world has been the size of his mattress. He is utterly dependent, helpless, and without a future. He is a picture of man in his natural, fallen state: paralyzed by sin, unable to rise, and confined to the bed of his own spiritual death.
The number eight in Scripture often signifies a new beginning. The eighth day was the day of circumcision, the start of covenant life. It was the day after the Sabbath, the first day of the new week, the day of resurrection. This man's eight-year paralysis is about to meet the God of new beginnings. His long winter is about to be broken by a sudden spring.
The Authoritative Command (v. 34)
What happens next is abrupt, direct, and devoid of any religious fanfare.
"And Peter said to him, 'Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you. Rise up and make your bed.' Immediately he rose up." (Acts 9:34)
Notice what Peter does not do. He does not pray for Aeneas. He does not ask Aeneas if he has enough faith. He does not hedge his bets with phrases like, "If it be God's will." He speaks directly to the man with an absolute, declarative authority. But the authority is not his own. Peter is fastidiously clear about the source of the power: "Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you."
Peter is the mailman, not the author of the letter. He is the ambassador, not the king. The healing power resides in the person and name of the risen Jesus. This is a direct assault on all forms of man-centered religion. The power is not in Peter's faith, nor in Aeneas's faith. The power is in Christ. This is why the apostles could perform these signs, and modern faith healers are charlatans. The apostles pointed away from themselves to Christ; the modern pretenders, with their dramatic shows and emotional manipulation, invariably draw attention to their own supposed gifts.
And then comes the command, which is twofold. "Rise up and make your bed." The first part is the miracle. The second part is the responsibility. Jesus Christ heals you, so you have a job to do. Grace is not opposed to effort; it is opposed to earning. The grace of God does not terminate in a puddle of passivity. It empowers and commands obedience. God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves, He makes a paralyzed man walk, and then He commands us to do what we are now able to do, make your bed.
This little phrase, "make your bed," is a beautiful picture of the Christian life. You have been raised from the dead. You have been given new life. Now get to work. Tidy up the mess that your old life of paralysis left behind. Take up the responsibilities of your new life in Christ. This is sanctification in a nutshell. You work out what God has worked in. And notice the response: "Immediately he rose up." There is no hesitation. The creative word of Christ, spoken through His apostle, accomplishes its purpose instantly and completely.
The Communal Consequence (v. 35)
The miracle was personal, but the effect was public and widespread.
"And all who lived at Lydda and Sharon saw him, and they turned to the Lord." (Acts 9:35)
This was not done in a corner. The man who had been a fixture of helplessness in their town for eight years is now walking around. This is undeniable, public evidence. And the result is not that everyone was merely amazed or entertained. The result was conversion. "They turned to the Lord."
Who did they turn to? They turned to "the Lord." They did not become followers of Peter. They did not form the First Church of Aeneas. They turned to the one in whose name the healing was done. The miracle was a signpost, and they followed the signpost to its destination: the lordship of Jesus Christ.
And notice the scope of the revival. "All who lived at Lydda and Sharon saw him, and they turned to the Lord." This is a beautiful little picture of the postmillennial advance of the gospel. When the power of the risen Christ is openly displayed, it has a conquering effect. This is not to say that every last individual was converted, but that the entire community, as a community, turned to the Lord. The public life of these towns was redefined around the lordship of Jesus. This is what we pray for and work toward. We are not aiming to rescue a few bedraggled souls from a sinking ship. We are laboring for the day when whole towns, whole regions, whole nations turn to the Lord.
Conclusion: Christ or Chaos
This brief account is a microcosm of the gospel's power. It confronts us with the fundamental choice that every person and every society must make. That choice is Christ or chaos.
Aeneas on his bed is a picture of the world without Christ. It is paralyzed, helpless, and hopeless. It can listen to motivational speakers, try new political philosophies, and rearrange the pillows on its deathbed, but it cannot rise. Our modern secularism is just this, a paralyzed man who insists that he can heal himself if everyone would just leave him alone and let him try one more technique.
Into this paralysis, the gospel speaks a rugged, authoritative word. "Jesus Christ heals you." It is not a suggestion. It is a declaration. It is the announcement of an accomplished fact. He has died for sins. He has risen from the dead. He is Lord of heaven and earth. This is the only message that can make a dead man live and a paralyzed man walk.
And with that declaration comes a command. "Rise up and make your bed." Repent and believe the gospel. Turn from your idols. Tidy up your life. Begin the work of obedience. This is not legalism; it is the fruit of grace. And when a person, or a family, or a town, truly hears this word and obeys, the result is transformation. The result is a turning to the Lord.
There is no healing for our broken world apart from the name of Jesus Christ. There is no salvation in any other. Our political solutions are impotent. Our therapeutic techniques are a joke. Our pretensions of humanistic progress are ridiculous. It is Christ or the abyss. Let us therefore have the confidence of Peter. Let us declare to a paralyzed world that there is a name that heals, a King who rules, and a Lord who saves. Jesus Christ makes you whole.