He Knows My Desperation
Scripture Reading: Mark 5:21-43
Meditation
Desperate people resort to desperate measures.
A synagogue leader named Jairus has a twelve-year-old daughter who’s at death’s door. There isn’t much time. Soon death will turn the knob and swing open the door. The grim reaper will pick the little girl up, carry her into his tomb, and then slam the door in Jairus’ face.
Jairus is running out of hope and his daughter is running out of time.
He must get to Jesus and—somehow—he must get Jesus to come to his daughter.
Desperation pushes Jairus toward Jesus; faith pulls him.
When he saw Jesus, he fell to his knees, beside himself as he begged, “My dear daughter is at death’s door. Come and lay hands on her so she will get well and live.” Jesus went with him, the whole crowd tagging along, pushing and jostling him.1
Jesus doesn’t say a word; he just begins to walk. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t stroll. He strides at a steady pace, with purpose. They’re on their way but Jairus needs Jesus to hurry. The hands of death’s clock move all so fast and yet Jesus’ feet seem to move all too slow.
Not far from his house, Jairus’ hopes are waylaid. Just when it seemed that all was going to be well, that death would have to wait many more years before it got his hands on this little girl, a hand of desperation reaches out from the crowd and touches the frayed hem of Jesus’ garment. The touch stops him still in his stride.
A woman who had suffered a condition of hemorrhaging for twelve years—a long succession of physicians had treated her, and treated her badly, taking all her money and leaving her worse off than before—had heard about Jesus. She slipped in from behind and touched his robe.2
She’s a desperate woman who is in dire straits. She, too, like Jairus, has run out of options.
For as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive, the woman has been hemorrhaging. She’s gone to every doctor, taken every pill and—in the process—has spent all of her money. To add pain to misery, instead of getting better, she’s gotten worse.
Her desperation has turned into despair.
The best she can do now is to resort to a risk of faith. Popular belief has it that the power of a person is transmitted to his or her clothing. If she could only reach a finger out and graze the hem of Jesus’ robe, maybe she might be able to snatch some of his power.
But even that’s a risk. It’s a risk because, according to the Mosaic Law, she’s one of the unclean and anyone she touches becomes unclean too.
“If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, but not at the time of her monthly period, or has a discharge that continues beyond the time of her period, she is unclean the same as during the time of her period. Every bed on which she lies during the time of the discharge and everything on which she sits becomes unclean the same as in her monthly period. Anyone who touches these things becomes unclean and must wash his clothes and bathe in water; he remains unclean until evening.3
Along with her daily loss of blood, she has lost the vital flow of her life. The religious leaders have ordered her to stay away from the synagogue, cutting her off from the lifeblood of worship. They have made it clear that a worshipper must be ritually clean in order to approach a Holy God.
They have also prohibited her from circulating within the community, isolating her in her pain. She’s not to touch anyone. According to the Law, the unclean thing always defiles that which is clean. It never works the other way around—except with Jesus.
When the woman grabs ahold of Jesus’ robe, power flows out of him and her bleeding stops. She has taken a risk of faith and her faith is rewarded.
Divinity isn’t defiled. Her blood doesn’t contaminate Jesus. Instead, Jesus cleanses her. He purges the plague from her body.
“Daughter, you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed! Be healed of your plague.”4
But the woman’s breakthrough becomes Jairus’ breaking point.
While Jesus was talking with the woman, the last sands of life in the little girl’s hourglass ran out. News has just come from Jairus’ house that his daughter is dead. The messengers tell the synagogue leader to stop bothering Jesus and to come back home, alone. But when Jesus overhears the conversation, he turns to Jairus and assures him that, though it might seem like it’s too late, the Master is still right on time. Though things may have gone beyond desperation, there is no need to despair. They may have been interrupted, but it’s a divine delay.
Jesus says to Jairus with a confident look,
“Don’t listen to them; just trust me.”5
Finally, Jesus reaches Jairus’ house. He goes inside and confronts the crowd of professional mourners.
“Why all this busybody grief and gossip? This child isn’t dead; she’s sleeping.”6
Jesus clears out the crowd, pulls only Peter, James, John, and the daughter’s parents into the young girl’s bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. When all is quiet, he clasps the girl’s hands, tells her to get up, and then watches as the knob on death’s door turns the other way. The hinges swing open and the little girl walks back into her parents’ life.
Though late, Jesus is right on time.
Reflection
In what areas of your life have you reached a point of desperation? Has the desperation ever driven you to despair?
Have you ever felt unworthy to approach Christ? Why?
What does it feel like to take a risk of faith? How have you snuck through the crowd and stretched out a finger to touch the robe of Jesus?
Do you ever feel like the steps of Christ to your house are slowed by the needs of others? How do you deal with the delay?
Prayer
Father,
Like Jairus and the woman with the continuous hemorrhage, I am at a point of desperation. I’ve tried everything. I’ve seen everyone I know who could possibly help. I’ve gone everywhere and, instead of things getting better, they’ve gotten worse. I’ve run out of options and my desperation is turning into despair.
During this day, send me to the feet of Christ. Pull my hurt toward his heart. Empower me take a risk of faith. In my desperation, give me a humble plea that wets the dust, urgent feet that lead the way, an outstretched hand that gropes for a miraculous touch, attentive ears that listen only to the words of the Savior (and not the advice of the well meaning crowd), and a belief that beats fast though the Master walks slow. Remind me that, though the Master may be late, he’s always on time.
It’s in his name that I pray. Amen.
1Mark 5:22-24 2Mark 5:25-27 3Leviticus 15:25-27 4Mark 5:34 5Mark 5:36 6Mark 5:39
All Scripture references in the meditation are marked by italics and are taken from the Gospel reading for the day. Those verses quoted outside of the chosen reading for the day are noted. All Scripture quoted in this post is taken from THE MESSAGE: Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 2000, 2001 & 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. All rights reserved.