No Waste of Miracle
Because I was tired and angsty and not ready to endure church this morning, my wonderful husband stayed home and had morning prayer with me. I've been feeling so numb lately, and I fervently hoped that something would touch me. Jesus didn't disappoint me. He never really does, though some days I wish he would, then I would actually have something to whine about.
But I digress.
The gospel reading was from Mark, the raising of Jarius' daughter and the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage. Now, I imagine that the healing of the woman might have been more striking to the original audience. This chronically unclean woman touches Jesus (!) and she is healed (!) and Jesus knows that someone touched him because he felt the power go out from him! It's a good story, quite dramatic, but it's the daughter of Jarius that gets me.
The idea of a father pleading with a renowned teacher and healer to attend to his sick child sounds very sensible to us. But I don't know if it would have been in those days. Children died of all sorts of diseases. Would it not have been fitting for a leader to accept the will of the Lord in these matters? And would it really be appropriate for a leader in the synagogue to be be chasing after a itinerant preacher who was already becoming a controversial figure? And besides, she was not a son, but just a girl, nearly a woman, almost ready to be packed up with a dowry and sent away to her husband's house. But her daddy Jarius didn't see the practical side of things. He didn't think of propriety, or setting an example, or the relative value of females in his culture. He saw his little girl near death. And Jesus saw what Jarius saw, and he went and woke the girl from her Sleep. She was worth it to Jesus. Worth going out of his way when many others were seeking him. Worth prompting the bitter laughter of her family when he announced that she was only asleep. Worth doing the impossible, raising the dead.
This is what I need to hold onto. When I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing or where I belong. Paul talks about seeking to know only Christ and him crucified, and that's OK I guess. But so many days, that is reality that is too big for me. I need to know Jesus, seeing a child, female, insignificant, and dead, and telling her to wake.
But I digress.
The gospel reading was from Mark, the raising of Jarius' daughter and the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage. Now, I imagine that the healing of the woman might have been more striking to the original audience. This chronically unclean woman touches Jesus (!) and she is healed (!) and Jesus knows that someone touched him because he felt the power go out from him! It's a good story, quite dramatic, but it's the daughter of Jarius that gets me.
The idea of a father pleading with a renowned teacher and healer to attend to his sick child sounds very sensible to us. But I don't know if it would have been in those days. Children died of all sorts of diseases. Would it not have been fitting for a leader to accept the will of the Lord in these matters? And would it really be appropriate for a leader in the synagogue to be be chasing after a itinerant preacher who was already becoming a controversial figure? And besides, she was not a son, but just a girl, nearly a woman, almost ready to be packed up with a dowry and sent away to her husband's house. But her daddy Jarius didn't see the practical side of things. He didn't think of propriety, or setting an example, or the relative value of females in his culture. He saw his little girl near death. And Jesus saw what Jarius saw, and he went and woke the girl from her Sleep. She was worth it to Jesus. Worth going out of his way when many others were seeking him. Worth prompting the bitter laughter of her family when he announced that she was only asleep. Worth doing the impossible, raising the dead.
This is what I need to hold onto. When I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing or where I belong. Paul talks about seeking to know only Christ and him crucified, and that's OK I guess. But so many days, that is reality that is too big for me. I need to know Jesus, seeing a child, female, insignificant, and dead, and telling her to wake.