They say there is no greater heartache than the loss of a child. I know some of you know this pain. There is something deeply dis-ordered and nonsensical to us when a young person dies before their time, before even reaching adulthood, or before their own parents. Death is never a welcome friend, but if someone has lived a good long life, and is now leaving behind pain and trouble, we can sometimes see death as bittersweet. But when a young person has their whole life ahead of them, and that life is cut short, it seems even more unfair, even more tragic, even more a cause for weeping and lamentation.
Such is the situation in our Gospel reading today. It starts out with a desperate father and a dying young daughter, is interrupted by another woman in need of Jesus’ help. And just when it seems all hope is lost, Jesus turns tears of mourning into joy as only he can. He restores the life of the little girl with his powerful word. Let’s take a closer look at Mark’s account of Jairus’ daughter today.
The girl was sick, very sick, even dying. And her father, a man of some importance – a ruler of the synagogue – knew just where to go for help. It seems he was already a believer in Jesus, or at least in Jesus’ power to heal. Though a man of some standing himself, he humbly falls at Jesus’ feet, an act of faith – a bodily confession. We even know the father’s name, Jairus, a detail which also testifies to the truth of this story.
He prays for Jesus to help –“lay your healing hands upon her – and she will live!” A simple, straightforward request, as any father in his position might make. Without any further conversation, Jesus goes.
But of all the miracles of Jesus, this one takes a most interesting turn, or a detour, we might say, with another miracle. An interruption, or at least, an interlude. Along the way Jesus is distracted by this interaction with the woman who had a flow of blood. And she, too, was desperate. She had tried everything, but suffered with this condition for 12 years.
And by the way, it is surely no accident that 12 years was also the age of the little girl that was healed, and is also the “number of God’s people”. It is surely no accident that Mark chooses to record this detail for us. There’s a connection between these two individuals – the woman who was healed, and the young girl who was raised. Both are called “daughter”.
But there were also some interesting contrasts between the two:
The woman had a chronic sickness , the girl’s condition was acute.
The woman sought out Jesus directly. The girl’s father sought Jesus on her behalf.
The woman’s approach to Jesus was technically not in accord with the law, as her flow of blood made her “unclean”. But the Father’s approach for his daughter was open and above board.
The woman was an outcast, socially. But as ruler of the synagogue, Jairus’ family had a higher social standing.
The woman was poor, having spent all she had on doctors. Jairus and his family probably well off.
The woman was healed by touching Jesus’ cloak, and when Jesus healed the girl he touched her hand.
The woman was healed in public, the child in the privacy of a home.
Jesus spoke to the woman after the healing and to the girl before.
In both cases there was commotion – the crowd that followed Jesus and then the crowd of mourners.
Jesus told the woman that her faith had healed her. Jesus told the messengers that they should have faith and not be afraid.
So what do we make of all this? Two women, one young, one old, but both in need of help. They shared some things in common, but their cases were also very different. But the one thing they had in common, the most important thing that had in common, was they had a need – and that need was met by Jesus.
You and I come to Jesus in various ways, too. Some of us are young, some are old. Some are male, some are female. Some are life-long Christians, some recent converts. Some of us are rich or poor, healthy or sick, troubled or not-so-troubled. We’re as different in our circumstances and situations as can be.
But we also have some things in common. We share the same curse of sin, and the wages of that sin called death. Your sins may be different from mine. Yours may trouble your conscience more, or in different ways. Your struggles with a certain sin may have been going on for many years, or perhaps have just begun. But the one thing we all have is sin, and that sin runs to our very core. We were conceived and born in it, we live and breathe in it. All the thoughts of our hearts are tainted and soiled by it. Apart from Christ we can do no good thing.
And that sin brings with it a train of troubles, with a caboose called death. Throughout this life we find the grief and bitterness that sin brings.
Sometimes it is your own sin, and you suffer the consequences of your mistakes. You bear the burden of your guilt, the shame of things you’ve done, and can’t take back. Bring it to Jesus. He will forgive, as he always does. He will bring peace with God, a peace that passes understanding.
Sometimes the sin that troubles us is from the world around us, other sinners, who hurt us with their words or deeds. The knife stabbed in your back. The thoughtless words, or careless inconsideration. Bring it to Jesus, and he will teach you to forgive those who trespass against you, even as he forgives your own trespasses.
And then there’s the broken world, the fallen creation. The effects of sin that bring death and disease. It may be a flow of blood or a life-threatening fever. It may be an accident or disaster. Or maybe just old age. Something gets us eventually. This mortal flesh is failing. This world is in the throes of childbirth, heaving toward its own end and destruction. Bring all that to Jesus, too.
Look past the commotion. Don’t give ear to the cacophony of mourning and wailing. Set your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. He may heal as miraculously as the woman who touched his garment. Or he may allow the body to simply heal itself. He may provide a doctor or a pill or a surgery. Or, he may not.
And if he doesn’t, that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten or forsaken.
Do not fear. Only believe.
Just as the little girl was only sleeping, and he went to awaken her, so he brings life, even after death. And on the last day, on a much grander scale, he will say to you, also, “little one, arise.” He will bring you just as surely to life – full, abundant, glorious, like you’ve never had life before. He will command that every Christian grave give forth its dead, and they, and all who are in Christ yet living will be changed into bodies incorruptible.
For all their differences, what Jairus’ daughter had in common with the woman who sought out Jesus for healing – is Jesus himself. And we are in that same boat.
Whatever trouble or sorrow, whatever tears or mourning sin and death bring your way. Wherever you are in life, and whoever you are, do not fear, only believe in Jesus. He is the one who brings the help. He is the one who overcomes sin, death, and devil.
After all, he is the one whose blood has flowed for us on the cross. He is the one who slept in the grave for us. He is the one who turns sorrow to joy, tears into laughter, fear into faith. He is the one who cares for all his sons and daughters. He is the one who comes to us, and to whom we may always reach out. It’s always Jesus, and only Jesus, who cures, cleanses, calms, comforts, heals, and saves. It’s Jesus who gives his life for yours, and will give you eternal life on the last day.
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