Walking In Jairus’s Sandals
This morning, I turned to a familiar story from the gospels. I was reading Mark chapter 5, but you can also find it in Matthew and Luke. It tells of a twelve-year-old girl being raised from the dead by Jesus. As I read it, I felt a familiar sense of warmth, because as a child, this was my favourite story.
I can vividly remember the first time I heard about Jairus’s daughter. I was spending the night with one of my aunts, and that was an exciting treat, as I’d never slept at her house before. My regular bedtime routine included a story. I always loved stories, especially the ones in a large children’s Bible storybook my father had given me during a spell in hospital. It meant so much that my dad had bought me that book, because back then, he wasn’t a Christian. Neither was my aunt, but she seemed happy enough to read to me, so off we travelled into the story of Jairus’s daughter, simply because that was the next one in the book.
My aunt had never read to me before, and as far as I can remember, she never did again. There was just this one amazing story. I can still picture myself cuddled up at her side, enthralled by the account of the sick child and her miraculous resurrection. Whenever I re-read it, I cannot do so without thinking of my aunt, and praying that one day, she will remember it too, and finally give her heart to Jesus.
It’s important to remember that everything we read about in the gospels happened to real people. This is fact, not fiction. So there was a genuine synagogue leader called Jairus, who sought Jesus in his greatest hour of desperation.
Let’s attempt to walk in Jairus’s shoes. Close your eyes and imagine the scene. Feel his pain as he watched helplessly while his wife exhausted all her usual methods of treating their daughter’s ailment. WE don’t know what was wrong with the child, but we know it was serious. I wonder how many days he went in and out of her bedroom praying he’d find her stronger and mourning as he saw her deterioration.
What made him go looking for Jesus? At the beginning of this chapter, we hear about the healing of a demon-possessed man, and in verse 21, we are told that when Jesus returned to the lakeshore, a large crowd gathered around him. People draw people. As the crowds grew thicker, the news spread, and somehow, it reached Jairus as he paced his home worrying over his daughter.
Was Jairus already a believer when he went in search of Jesus? As a synagogue ruler, he would have been a devout follower of the Jewish faith. What an honour to be chosen as their number one man. People looked up to him. His words and choices carried weight. Yet amongst the Jewish scholars, there was much scepticism about this man called Jesus. However, they couldn’t deny his miracles, no matter how they tried to explain them away.
Jairus was a father first, and a synagogue ruler second. All he could think about was his daughter. He saw the worry lines on his wife’s face and heard her tears. He felt desperate and afraid. As a man and the head of his home, he should do something. But what were his options? He could go to Jesus. What was the worst that could happen? If there was even the slightest chance his daughter could be healed, he had to take it.
When he eventually reached Jesus, he fell at his feet as a mark of supplication. There is no pride left in him now. His leadership status is all forgotten as he pleads for his daughter’s life. His words are direct and succinct. “My little daughter is dying. Please come and lay your hands on her. Heal her, so she can live.” (Mark 5:23 (NLT).
What did Jairus expect at this point? Whatever it might have been, he must have been so relieved when Jesus immediately agreed to go with him. He didn’t care about the crowd that followed. His sole purpose was to take Jesus to his daughter. Hope was stirring within his breaking heart. Perhaps it would be all right after all.
They moved along steadily for a while. Then, suddenly, Jesus stopped. Why was he stopping now when they still had a distance to travel? I’m sure every instinct in Jairus wanted to hurry him along, but he soon found out you couldn’t hurry Jesus.
The master was concerned because someone had touched him. He said he had felt healing power going out of him, but in such a large crowd, there were people pressing against him all the time. Perhaps Jairus was tempted to remind him of this, but the disciples did it for him. Maybe now they would start moving again. Time was of the essence. Every moment was dragging his precious daughter closer to the point of death. Hurry, Jesus! Hurry!
Yet still Jesus waited, determined to find out who’d touched him. Just as he had given Jairus his undivided attention when he fell at his feet, now he turned to a woman who pressed her way timidly through the crowd, forced to finally admit that she was the one who had touched him. She trembled as she told him of twelve years of constant bleeding – of the shame, of the fact that her condition had made her a social outcast. Twelve years? That was the age of Jairus’s daughter. It reminded him of her again and the need to get Jesus moving. He thought of her all too short life about to be snuffed out unless… Please, Jesus, hurry!
If I were Jairus, this is exactly how I would have felt. It would have been difficult to consider the woman’s need in the light of my own. I would have seen her as a distraction and questioned why Jesus was so easily swayed from one mission to another. With hindsight, we know our Saviour can do many things at once – to care for the needs of all his children, but when we are in the middle of something and it feels as though he’s neglecting us to attend to the needs of others, we easily become frustrated. I can sympathise with both the fearful father and the bleeding woman.
Then came another twist in the plot. Through the crowd, Jairus saw the approach of some familiar faces. They were servants from his own household. Why had they come to find him? Was it bad news? He soon found out, and his heart sank as he heard the words: “Your daughter is dead. There’s no use troubling the teacher now.” (Mark 5:35 NLT).
It was over – too late. Jesus’ delay had cost them precious time. He had healed the woman, but not Jairus’s daughter. Why had he done it? Why had he delayed when he knew how urgent the situation was? Surely he could have dealt with the woman later. She’d been bleeding for twelve years after all, so what difference would a few more hours make? It wasn’t life or death.
Did Jairus prepare to walk away? Did his faith fail him at the news of his daughter’s death? He probably wasn’t expecting Jesus’ words: “Don’t be afraid. Just have faith.” (Mark 5:36 NLT)
This time, when they moved on, it was different. There was no crowd walking with them because Jesus had sent them all away. There were just five of them – Peter, James, John, Jairus, and Jesus. He had the Master’s undivided attention now, but was it too late? But Jesus had told him not to be afraid and to have faith. Was his faith as tiny as the mustard seed Jesus had talked about in one of his parables? Well, even if it was, Jesus had said that with such faith, mountains could be moved, so Jairus pressed on.
He was confronted with negativity as he entered his home to the sounds of weeping and wailing, and even his mustard seed faith seemed to shrink. This was the scene of a funeral! It was over. But Jesus wasn’t giving up. Jairus heard him sending all the mourners away. Didn’t Jesus understand this was their custom? These people were intent on comforting and console their synagogue leader, and it was an insult to send them packing. How they mocked when Jesus declared the child wasn’t dead, but only asleep. (Mark 5:39 NLT). Was Jesus blind? Was he out of his mind? There she lay, lifeless and stiff, as dead as dead could be. But again, he remembered what he’d been told about having faith. He was clinging on to every remnant,, but he felt as though he was grasping with greased hands. Any minute now, he would have to let go. He would need to face the reality of what he saw in front of him and focus on comforting his wife.
“Little girl, get up.” It was a command, and immediately she obeyed. There was such authority in the Saviour’s voice. How could anyone not obey him? And there she stood – Jairus’s precious daughter, walking confidently around the room as she hadn’t been able to in days. To say he felt overwhelmed and totally amazed was an understatement, as he rushed to clasp her in his arms. Suddenly, his mustard seed was growing into a mountain, and his hands felt firm and steady as they recognised the warmth in his daughter’s body. She was alive, and Jairus believed!
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I wonder, do you have a favourite story from the gospels? And if so, has it changed with the seasons of your life? If you’re brave enough, I’d love to hear about it.