Prepare us now, Lord, to hear your word. Give us humble hearts and attentive minds and obedient wills. Remove distractions and hardness and unbelief and self-deception. Help us not to listen merely for the faults of others, but to receive your word personally and reverently. Convict us where we need correction. Comfort us where we’re weary. Strengthen us where we are weak. And guide us where we are uncertain.

Do not allow us merely to hear the truth, but cause us to receive it with faith, to treasure it in our hearts, and to walk in it by the power of your spirit. In Jesus’ name, we ask this. God’s people again say amen. Please take your Bibles and let us turn to Mark chapter five. Mark five, and this morning, We look at verses 21 through 43. Listen to God’s word. And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him and he was beside the sea.

Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly saying, my little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live. And he went with them. And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him.

And there was a woman who had a discharge of blood for 12 years and who had suffered much under many physicians and had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, if I touch even his garments, I will be made well. And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, who touched my garments? And his disciples said to him, you see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, who touched me? And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.

And he said to her, Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your disease. While he was still speaking, there came from the ruler’s house some who said, Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further? But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, Do not fear, only believe. and he allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and John, the brother of James. They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue and Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, why are you making a commotion and weeping?

The child is not dead, but sleeping. And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand, he said to her, talatia kumi, which means, little girl, I say to you, arise. And immediately, the girl got up and began walking, for she was 12 years of age. And they were immediately overcome with amazement. And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat. This is our God’s word. The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God endures forever. Please be seated.

Well, congregation, as we look at this particular passage this morning, Mark is bringing two stories together here. One concerns a respected synagogue ruler whose little daughter is dying. The other concerns an unnamed woman who has suffered from bleeding for 12 years. One is prominent, the other is overlooked. In fact, even an outcast. One comes publicly, the other approaches secretly. One suffers through his child, and the other suffers in her own body. Yet both are brought to the same place.

They are helpless before circumstances that they cannot change. and they come to Jesus. And Mark weaves these two accounts together so that each helps us understand the other. The central truth of this passage this morning is that Jesus Christ possesses authority over disease and uncleanness, over fear and death. and he receives helpless sinners who come to him by faith. So again, I invite you looking at the text here in the first part in verses 21 through 24, we see that Christ receives the desperate. And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him and he was beside the sea.

Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly saying, my little daughter, Is that the point of death? Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live.” And he went with him. So Jairus was one of the rulers of the synagogue, a respective lay leader, kind of like an elder or president. of the synagogue. They would be responsible for the administration and the order of that local synagogue. He was known in the community. He had standing. He had influence. He had religious responsibility.

But none of that could save his daughter. His position couldn’t heal her. His reputation couldn’t preserve her life. His experience could not protect his household from sorrow. His little daughter was at the point of death, we’re told here. Now, this language that’s used indicates she was in the final extremity of life.

Jairus knows that unless something happens immediately, his child is going to die, will die, would die. So he comes to Jesus. Mark says that when Jairus saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. That’s a striking posture for a prominent man. He’s not standing upon his own dignity. He’s not approaching Jesus as an equal. He’s not beginning by explaining his position or offering up his credentials. He falls at Christ’s feet because suffering has just stripped away the illusion of control. Jairus is a father who knows he cannot save his child.

He knows that and he implores Jesus earnestly, my little daughter is at the point of death, come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live. Concerning this faith, it’s not necessarily mature yet. He appears to believe that Jesus must come physically and place his hands upon the girl, and yet his faith is directed towards the right person here. He believes Jesus can do what no one else can do.

And Mark says simply, and he went with them. Jesus hears, he receives this desperate father. He doesn’t rebuke him for coming only in a crisis. He doesn’t say, why’d you wait until now? He doesn’t require Jairus to prove the strength of his faith. He goes with him.

Brothers and sisters, affliction often brings us to the place where we discover just how little control we actually possess. The fact that we may be respected or experienced or have served Christ for many years to be that go-to person that other people look to for stability. But there are those providences before which our knowledge, our position, our experience are utterly powerless. Brother elders, we must learn this.

You won’t be a church officer for very long until you experience this and understand this. Jairus was a religious leader, but he still had to follow Jesus’ feet. Those who serve visibly in the church must not imagine that public usefulness removes the need for private dependence upon Christ. Dads, as a family, your family doesn’t need the appearance of an invulnerable father or husband or elder or pastor. They need to see you pray. They need to see you repent. They need to see you grieve. They need to see you trust Christ.

Some of your parents are carrying burdens for your children. You taught them, you warned them, you prayed for them, you sought to set before them a godly example, and yet you’ve learned that you cannot give spiritual life to another person. Parents cannot regenerate their children. Parents cannot protect their children from every sorrow. Parents cannot secure the future by their own wisdom.

But you may do what Jairus did. You may bring your child’s need to Christ. Don’t presume upon your child’s upbringing. Don’t rest in outward conformity. Do not suppose that covenant privilege removes the necessity of their personal faith. Bring your child continually to Christ in prayer. Use the means of grace that the Lord’s provided. Plead with him for their conversion and do not give up merely because their case appears desperate.

Christ receives the desperate. Notice here in the second place that Christ stops for the overlooked. As Jesus is going with Jairus to the house, a great crowd follows and they press all around him and every moment must have felt precious to Jairus in this. The clock is ticking in his mind and everything that interferes with this is just another stab at his heart as far as the desperateness. His daughter’s dying. Jesus has agreed to come. The house must be reached quickly. But then the stories interrupted at kind of this screeching halt.

Mark tells us there’s a woman who had a discharge of blood for 12 years, who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew worse. She has suffered for 12 years. Her condition is, to some surmise, it might be a persistent uterine hemorrhage. And according to the ceremonial law, such bleeding made her ceremonially unclean. Leviticus 15 taught that a woman with a prolonged discharge of blood remained unclean during the time of that discharge. So her suffering, therefore, was not merely physical.

It was physical, social, emotional, religious, financial. For 12 years, she has known bodily weakness. For 12 years, She has lived with discomfort. For 12 years, she’s experienced ceremonial exclusion. For 12 years, she has likely lived with embarrassment and isolation. For 12 years, she has sought belief. Mark says, she has suffered much under many positions.

Now, that’s not a condemnation of medicine. Scripture recognizes physicians and medicines as gifts of God. Luke, the gospel writer, himself is a physician, and he records this miracle here. The point is that human remedies had reached their limit. She spent everything that she possessed. She’d endured repeated examinations and treatments. She had hoped again and again for the next remedy that might work, but She was no better, but rather grew worse. Every earthly resource has failed her.

Some of you know what prolonged suffering does to the soul. A short trial may be frightening. A long trial can become utterly exhausting. When suffering continues year after year, hope itself begins to feel dangerous. You become reluctant to expect improvement because you’ve been disappointed so often. Long affliction can tempt a person towards bitterness. It can produce cynicism. It can make a person numb. It can turn a heart inward until pain becomes the only reality that one can see.

Ask yourself honestly, what has your suffering been doing to you? Has it made you more prayerful or more suspicious of God? Has it made you more tender towards others or perhaps more harsh? Has it drawn you closer to Christ or has it made you settle into unbelief?

The length of a trial is not proof that Christ has forgotten you. This woman has suffered for 12 years. but she was not forgotten. Maybe your suffering is largely hidden. Others see at church, they speak with you in the hallway, they assume you’re managing well. But Christ knows the whole story. He knows the years. He knows the failed remedies. He knows the money spent. He knows the prayers offered. He knows the hope deferred. He knows the weariness.

You don’t explain to others. This woman’s heard reports about Jesus. And those reports awakened hope. She came up behind him in the crowd. And touched his garment. She said, if I touch even his garments, I will be made well. Now her understanding may have been imperfect. She may have attached too much significance to the physical trust, but she’s not trusting the garment as some kind of magical object here. She is trusting the power of the one who wore it.

And Mark says, and immediately the flow of blood dried up and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately, 12 years of suffering ended in a moment. There was no gradual improvement. There was no recovery period. The bleeding stopped. And Christ succeeded where every physician had failed.

And notice what else happens ceremonially. Ordinarily contact with an unclean person transmits uncleanness. But when this unclean woman touches Jesus, her uncleanness does not defile him. His holiness cleanses her. Her impurity doesn’t pass to Jesus. His purity passes to her. And this points us toward the gospel. Christ is not contaminated by the defilement of those who come to him. He overcomes their defilement.

Now some sinners imagine they first need to be presentable before coming to Christ. They think, I must improve my life. I must conquer this habit. I must clean myself up. Then perhaps Christ will receive me. The woman didn’t cleanse herself and then touch Christ. She came unclean and Christ made her clean. Your sin is not small. Your guilt is great. Your shame may be deep, but Christ’s sufficiency is greater. Do not use your uncleanness as a reason to stay away from the only one who can cleanse you.

And if earthly means have failed, don’t conclude that hope has ended. Use physicians, use counsel, use lawful remedies. Thank God for medicine and skill, but do not worship the means. Some trust a physician, but scarcely pray. Some trust a counselor, but they neglect the word. Some trust medication or money or influence or planning or discipline as though created means could provide what only Christ can give. Use the means, but rest in God. When the creature reaches its limit, Christ has not reached his. Notice in the third place that Christ calls hidden faith into the light.

Now Jesus is immediately perceived that power has gone out from him and he turns to the crowd and asks, who touched my garments? The disciples are puzzled here in the midst of this crowd. You see the crowd pressing around you. Everyone’s touching you. How can you ask who touched you? But there’s a difference between pressing around Christ and coming to Christ by faith. Many touched Jesus physically. One touched him believingly. And there’s a difference between nearness to Christ and union with Christ.

You know, you may be near the things of Christ. You may attend worship. You may hear sermons. You may sing songs and hymns. You may know the language of the faith. You may have been raised in a Christian home. You may have received baptism and sat under preaching for many years.

But outward nearness is not saving faith. The crowd was close to Jesus, but the woman rested upon him. Have you come personally to Christ as one? who is helpless, guilty, unclean, and unable to save yourself? Or are you just simply moving with the crowd? Don’t confuse familiarity with faith. Jesus looks around to see who touched him.

Now he knows who she is, but his question is not a request for information. It’s an invitation for her to come forward. The woman knowing what had happened comes in fear and trembling. She falls before him. She tells him the whole truth. Why would Jesus do that?

To call her into the open. He’s not trying to humiliate her. He’s not exposing her in order to shame her. He calls her out to complete the mercy. She has received physical healing. but Jesus would also give her assurance and dignity and public restoration and peace. He wouldn’t allow her to leave wondering whether she had stolen a blessing. He would not permit her to think that the garments itself possessed magical power. He would speak to her personally.

He says, daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease. daughter. Now Jairus is completing for his little daughter. And now Jesus addresses this unnamed and excluded woman as daughter. Now she may be unnamed to us, but she is not anonymous to him. He receives her into the family of grace.

Your faith has made you well. Now her faith is not the source of the power. The power belonged to Christ. Faith was the instrument by which she received what Christ alone could give. Faith is not a force that creates an outcome. Faith is the empty hand that receives Christ.

Some of you spend too much time measuring the strength of your faith. You look inward and you say, my faith is so weak, my assurance so unstable, my prayers are so hesitant. But the strength of faith lies in its object, what it is looking to. You’re going to look within? Yes, you’re going to be depressed. Yes, you’re going to be dismayed. Why? Because the strength never was in you. It never will be.

But if our faith is looking to Christ in whom is redemption and salvation and power and grace and mercy and peace and life, then our faith is properly placed. and we see it in him. Robert Murray M’Cheyne
, Scottish minister in the 1800s, said, for every look we take of ourselves, have 10 looks at Christ. A trembling hand may receive a secure promise. Weak faith in a mighty savior is still faith. Don’t rest in the strength of your believing. Rest in the strength of Christ. Notice Jesus bringing her into open confession.

You know, some want Christ’s benefits without Christ himself. They want peace without repentance. They want comfort without discipleship. They want relief from guilt without an open identification with Jesus. They want heaven without holiness. But Christ does not merely distribute benefits.

He brings sinners into personal relation with himself. She wants to be healed quietly and disappear. Jesus calls her into the light. Some of you need to tell him the whole truth. You’ve concealed fear, resentment, envy, bitterness, secret sin or disappointment. Christ already knows, but he calls you to honest confession. coming to the light. And his purpose is not to destroy the contrite. His purpose is to forgive, to cleanse, assure, and restore. Notice in the fourth place, Christ governs even the painful delay.

While Jesus is still speaking to the woman, messengers arrive from Jairus’ house. They say, your daughter’s dead. Why trouble the teacher any further? Imagine, put yourself in Jairus’ place. They come in urgency, Jesus has agreed to go, but Jesus stops, and he stops for someone else, and during the delay, Jairus’ child dies. Now from a human point of view, the delay had been fatal. The messengers speak this language of finality, your daughter is dead, the opportunity has passed, there’s no reason to continue, why trouble the teacher any further?

They believe Jesus might be able to heal the sick, but they did not believe he could raise the dead. Some of you know the pain of divine delay. You prayed for a child, a marriage, a health crisis, a conversion, a church, or a broken relationship, and you’ve watched the time pass, and the situation does not improve. became worse. And perhaps you’ve been tempted to say, if only the Lord had acted earlier, this would not have happened.

You know, Lazarus’s sister comes to Jesus. If only you had been here, he would not have died. Jairus could have thought if Jesus had not stopped for that woman, my daughter might still be alive. Jesus had not been distracted. He had not lost control. He had not mismanaged that time. The delay was painful, but it was not pointless.

The healing of the woman was not a diversion from Jairus’s need. It was preparation for Jairus’s faith. See, Jairus has just watched Jesus do what no physician could do, and now he’d be called upon to trust Jesus beyond what he had previously imagined possible.

And Jesus immediately says to him, do not fear, only believe. Now this is not positive thinking. Jesus is not telling Jairus to deny reality. This child is truly dead. Biblical faith does not pretend that pain is unreal. It doesn’t call evil good. It doesn’t say that death is not an enemy. Faith looks directly at the worst reality and still trusts the word and character and wisdom and power of Christ. Do not fear. Only believe. Jairus had believed Jesus could heal his dying daughter, and now he must believe Jesus when death has already come.

Some of you have watched another person receive the blessing you desired. Another was healed while you remained ill. Another saw reconciliation while your relationship remained broken. Another child returned while yours remained far away. Another prayer was answered while yours seemed delayed. Jairus had to stand still while Jesus attended to someone else. Guard your heart against resentment. Another person’s blessing is not evidence of Christ’s indifference toward you. The mercy shown to another does not exhaust its resources. don’t interpret providence before Christ has finished the work.

So he enters into the house of mourning and he only allows Peter, James and John to accompany him. And now when I get to the house, there’s a great commotion there. People are weeping and wailing loudly. The child is dead and the mourning has begun. And Jesus enters and says, why are you making commotion and weeping? The child is not dead, but sleeping. Now he’s not denying that she has physically died. He calls her death sleep because death is temporary in his presence. For Christ raising the dead is as effortless as waking a sleeping child.

Now the mourners laugh at him, in fact, laugh at him to scorn. Their grief quickly turns to ridicule. They are certain that their assessment of reality is wiser than his word. They know death is final. They believe the situation is beyond remedy. In fact, the world still laughs at the promises of Christ. It laughs at the resurrection. It laughs at the judgment to come. It laughs at the return of Christ. It laughs at the claim that Jesus alone is the way to the father. It laughs at the promise that every grave will be open, but the confidence of scoffers doesn’t weaken the authority of Christ one bit. So he puts the mockers outside.

See, person, Persistent unbelief excludes a person from the joy of Christ-saving work. The mourners, they correctly observe, yep, this girl is dead, but they draw the wrong conclusion. They assume that because she was dead, nothing further could be done.

Now, faith does not deny visible circumstances. Faith refuses to make circumstances sovereign. Let me make that again. Faith refuses to make visible circumstances sovereign. Some of us speak too quickly of hopeless situations. The marriage is beyond repair. That child will never repent. This church cannot recover. That center is too hardened. The opportunity has passed. You don’t know what Christ may do. This passage doesn’t promise that every earthly outcome will be what we desire, but it does forbid us from despairing of Christ’s power. Do not call impossible what God has not called impossible.

So notice again, we see here, Christ speaking life into death. He takes a child’s father and mother, along with Peter, James, and John, and enters the room. And he takes the dead child by the hand. A contact with a dead body rendered a person ceremonially unclean. Once again, though, uncleanness does not pass to Jesus. Life passes from Jesus to the dead.

He says, talitha kumi, in Aramaic, Mark translates for us, little girl, I say to you, arise. What tender words. Little girl. And the words are also sovereign. I say to you, arise. Jesus isn’t praying for power. He doesn’t appeal to a higher authority. He speaks directly to the dead. The voice of the son of God penetrates death itself. John 5, 25 says an hour is coming and now is here when the dead will hear the voice of the son of God and those who hear will live.

Mark tells us and immediately the girl got up and began walking immediately. The restoration is complete. She didn’t merely breathe. She rises, she walks. Then Mark tells us she’s 12 years old. The woman had suffered for 12 years. The girls lived for 12 years. For 12 years, one had been slowly drained of life, and for 12 years, the others had been growing in life. At the end of those 12 years, both were brought to Jesus.

One healed from prolonged disease. The other raised from death. Christ is sufficient for both. And the people are overcome with an amazement. And then Jesus tells him, give the child something to eat. That’s a tender detail. The one who has conquered death also cares. They’re 12 year old girls hungry, little girls gotta eat.

And it’s interesting in scripture, not all the resurrection accounts in the Old and New Testament are accompanied by food, but there are enough of them there to make you scratch your head and go, what’s going on here? Well, that’s a sign of resurrection life, and especially we will be feasting with Christ forever. You see the account Isaiah of the of the choice feast of the Lord and people coming to him.

Well, this miracle. Indeed, all of them point beyond itself. You see, the girl one day is going to die again. Her restoration is real, but it was temporary. But it is a sign of the resurrection to come. Jesus himself would enter death, and he would bear the guilt and the curse and shame and uncleanness of his people. He’d be taken outside the city. and crucified and laid in the grave. But on the third day, he would rise never to die again. He would not merely return to mortal life. He would enter resurrection glory.

And the raising of Jairus’s daughter points us to the greater resurrection of Christ and through him, the resurrection of all who belong to him. Death remained an enemy. No, we should not speak lightly of it. And we grieve when those we love die. Parents who have buried children should not be told that grief is unbelief. Our Lord himself weeps at the tomb of Lazarus. The Christians do not grieve as those who have no hope. For the believer, death is not final. The body sleeps in the grave awaiting the voice of Christ.

That same Lord who said, little girl, I say to you, arise, will one day summon his people from every grave. Some of you fear death. Perhaps age has made its nearness more apparent. Maybe illness has reminded you of mortality. Maybe you have recently stood beside the grave of someone you love. Hear Christ’s word. Do not fear. Only believe. It doesn’t mean that death is insignificant. It means that death is not sovereign.

Christ has entered it. Christ has conquered it. Christ has risen from it. And those united to Him will rise with Him. And so the question is not whether you’ll die. Unless Christ returns first, the question is whether you are united to the Lord of life. Are your sins forgiven? Are you resting in his righteousness? Have you come to him by faith? The unconverted person is like both sufferers in this passage. Sin is uncleanness. It requires cleansing. It’s a death that requires resurrection. You cannot educate yourself into spiritual life. You cannot reform yourself into spiritual life. You cannot discipline yourself into spiritual life. You must be made alive by Christ. And the gospel voice of Christ still calls dead sinners.

Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you. Do not remain in the crowd. Do not depend on outward nearness. Do not delay. Come to Christ. Let’s pray together. Oh Lord Jesus Christ, compassionate Savior and sovereign Lord of life, we praise you that no suffering is hidden from your sight. No sinner is too unclean for your mercy. No delay escapes your wisdom. and no grave is beyond your power.

Teach us to come to you as Jairus came, humbly, urgently, and in faith. Teach us to come as the woman came, confessing our need and resting in your sufficiency. Forgive us for trusting in outward respectability or human strength and created means more than we trust in you. Forgive us for fearing what you command us to entrust to your care. Strengthen those who suffer long. Comfort those who carry secret grief. Sustain parents’ burden for their children. Draw near to those who mourn. Give assurance to trembling hearts.

Bring the unconverted from death to life through the power of your gospel. And when your providence seems delayed, keep us from bitterness and unbelief. When circumstances appear hopeless, fix our eyes upon you and upon your word. And when death draws near, remind us that you are the resurrection and the life. Grant that we would not merely press around you outwardly, but truly come to you by faith. Cleanse us from all sin, restore our peace, and make us bold to confess you before others. And when fear rises within us, Cause us to hear again your gracious command. Do not fear, only believe. We ask this in your holy and life-giving name. Amen.