“While he was saying this, a synagogue leader came and knelt before him and said, “My daughter has just died. But come and put your hand on her, and she will live.” Jesus got up and went with him, and so did his disciples. Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.” Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed at that moment. When Jesus entered the synagogue leader’s house and saw the noisy crowd and people playing pipes,” (Matthew 9:18–23, NIV)
Ask yourself: Where am I in this story?
Me? I find myself in the crowd, watching intently, excited about what might happen, looking on as Jesus indicates he’s about to do something special for Jairus and his daughter. I follow with the crowd as Jesus heads toward the official’s home.
Then: what?! Jesus is looking through the crowd – seems to be looking for someone, and he can’t find them. What has happened? What’s going on? Who’s he looking for? And why?
And Jairus is a walking machine! He hasn’t even realised Jesus has stopped – he’s striding ahead by some 20 or 30 metres, before he even realises Jesus isn’t following him anymore. What the…??
Doesn’t he know how sick my daughter is? Did he miss my exasperation? Doesn’t he get it? Didn’t he say he would follow me? Doesn’t he realise she’s dying? What on earth is he doing now, stuffing around in the crowd?
There it is. Confusion. Anger. Frustration.
How often have I felt this? That Jesus is somehow missing in (my) action? That I doubt he’s with me, or not fully cognizant of what’s actually going on in my life? Why isn’t he do it what, just a moment ago, he seemed so clearly to say that he would do?
There’s nothing happening to me – or you – today that Jesus is anxoius about.
Amidst all of my anger, confusion and possible questioning of God, I see Jesus in this story – and he is not flustered at all. Not. At. All. He is sovereign, and he has me perfectly and mysteriously in his hand.
I might think he’s making poor decisions (actually, phrasing that sounds as ridiculous and faithless as it actually is) I may not understand, and I may not accept what’s going on. But Jesus has it – me – everything – in hand. I may be bothered. I may be confused. I may be worried or afraid.
But not Jesus. There’s nothing happening to me – or you – today that Jesus is anxious about.
He has me in his hand, and what he does will bring brother grace and healing and restoration to those who maybe frustrating me. And he will bring that same grace and healing to those around me who are in such great need.