Jairus' daughter

A young girl, twelve years of age, a beloved daughter, excessively ill.  We do not know her name.  I used to think that she was not important enough to name.  Perhaps she’s too important to name.  She could be me.

Why is she ill?  Did she cause her own illness through her own misdeeds?  Did she eat poisonous berries or visit a sick friend, exposing herself to a dangerous virus?

Or did her mother feed her stew that had been sitting one day too long, with meat just a bit spoilt?  Was she sent to run an errand through a neighborhood that lacked proper sanitation?

And his disciples asked Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?”  Jesus answered, “It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him.

And it happened that the young girl died, and she died in a spectacular manner, having been born at the time a certain woman began having a bleeding disorder, her death marked the moment of this woman’s cure.  Twelve years of a beautiful life in stark contrast to twelve years of stigma and shunning.  One life ending as another is just beginning again.

This Rabbi, the one that healed the lady, felt power leaving him as she touched him, expecting relief from her pain simply from her touch.  Was this the power he was using to keep the child alive?  It does not matter; the power was transferred, the woman was healed, the miracle occurred.

Who holds power on the hem of their robe?  Who is so careless with such strength that they would allow it to seep out from their clothing before they could rein it in?

But this Rabbi was not done for the day; more works of God to be displayed.

He knew the secret that we fail to see, that the veil between life and death is but momentary and faint, like a nap one might take to escape the midday heat.

This child, dead in sin, both physically and spiritually, needed new life.

And it does not matter, when one reaches the critical moment, where the blame lies.  “Who sinned?”  What happened in the past is not God’s primary focus.  He is anxious to see how His works can be displayed in you, through the events that have occurred. 

The world sees our illness-ravaged bodies, our stumbling blocks; our sin.  And they discount us as “already dead”.  They deride our Lord for suggesting that we can be anything living, that we can come back to life, that we can make a difference.

But then Jesus steps in, says my name, takes me by the hand, and says, “Little girl, get up!”