Your name is Jairus. You’ve come a long way to find Jesus. Your only daughter is dying. The doctors have all given up and you’ve taken her home to die. But somehow, you just can’t give up without trying everything. One of your servants has seen Jesus heal and suggests that if you could just find Jesus and have him come, your daughter might not die. You search frantically, from one town to the next. The reports are all the same. “You just missed Him. He was here about 2 days ago and healed most of the people in the town.”
Hope grows stronger, while on the other side of the emotional roller coaster, you become frantic as you realize that you are a few days behind him. You redouble your efforts, trying to reach Him and get Him home before it is too late. Finally, you come racing into a town and discover a large crowd of people gathered around. This must be Jesus. Pushing your way through the crowd, you come face to face with Him. “Master, you must come now!” The urgency is in your voice as you try to get Jesus to follow you back through the crowd. He motions for you to lead and begins to follow. You look back and realize that He has stopped and is asking who touched Him. You turn back to urge Him to hurry when one of your servants rides up to the edge of the crowd on horseback and motions for you.
You can tell by the look on his face that it’s too late. “Don’t trouble the Master any further,” he says, “She’s dead.” Grief wrenches your soul and you slump to the ground. The "if only’s" come. If only you had found Him quicker. If only He had been closer to your home. If only she had held on for a little while longer. If only there were no crowds to slow Him down.”
A hand on your shoulder jars you back to reality. “Don’t worry, just believe.” Jesus helps you to your feet and begins walking towards your town, He and his disciples helping you as you stumble along in a haze of grief. You sleep little that night, and the next day is a blur as you head home. As you come near your house, the mourner’s are there in full force. It really hits home. She’s dead.
You can tell by the look on his face that it’s too late. “Don’t trouble the Master any further,” he says, “She’s dead.” Grief wrenches your soul and you slump to the ground. The "if only’s" come. If only you had found Him quicker. If only He had been closer to your home. If only she had held on for a little while longer. If only there were no crowds to slow Him down.”
A hand on your shoulder jars you back to reality. “Don’t worry, just believe.” Jesus helps you to your feet and begins walking towards your town, He and his disciples helping you as you stumble along in a haze of grief. You sleep little that night, and the next day is a blur as you head home. As you come near your house, the mourner’s are there in full force. It really hits home. She’s dead.
Jesus simply quiets them and says, “Don’t mourn. She’s sleeping.” Laughter meets His statement. How can Jesus mock your pain with such a statement. You enter to find your wife weeping and lying across the bed holding the lifeless form of your daughter. Jesus gently lifts her and you rush to hold her, to hold each other, as Jesus now looks at the little body on the bed.
Gently, yet with authority he says, “Little girl, I say to you arise!” Her eyes flutter open as you heart beats wildly. Your wife screams with joy and leaps toward the bed as your beloved daughter sits up. Suddenly the three of you are laughing, crying, talking, hugging, kissing, and marveling at what just happened. You look again…and He is gone.
Are you amazed yet? Can you just shrug it off with an "I've heard all this before!"? Or is there something, even now, that is begging you to be astounded and astonished at a God who cared so much for you and me that He came and gave us a peek at what God is like. Someone who calls the unloveable. Someone who forgives the hookers... Someone who wants to turn your grief into joy. Look again...for the very first time. And be amazed!
Gently, yet with authority he says, “Little girl, I say to you arise!” Her eyes flutter open as you heart beats wildly. Your wife screams with joy and leaps toward the bed as your beloved daughter sits up. Suddenly the three of you are laughing, crying, talking, hugging, kissing, and marveling at what just happened. You look again…and He is gone.
Are you amazed yet? Can you just shrug it off with an "I've heard all this before!"? Or is there something, even now, that is begging you to be astounded and astonished at a God who cared so much for you and me that He came and gave us a peek at what God is like. Someone who calls the unloveable. Someone who forgives the hookers... Someone who wants to turn your grief into joy. Look again...for the very first time. And be amazed!
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