whenever the waters were stirred. “The problem,” said the withered man “is not me, but them. They are always cutting in line. They get all the breaks. They’re the lucky ones.” So he sat and listened every few days to someone else’s testimony and watched someone else get healed. He was waiting on a dream. But maybe he was beginning to give up. Maybe he was growing cynical about all of these testimonies. Maybe he even hoped they would get sick again. Still the question hangs in the air: “Do you want