It might have been a cold, gray morning, that day when Jairus did what a desperate father had to do. A cold, gray morning, made all the more bleak because a little girl lay dying. Only twelve years old she was, full of promise, full of life, the apple of her father’s eye, and so much in love with everything around her. How could it be that suddenly this illness would come, and it would get worse and worse, until everyone saw what was coming? The physicians, the nurses, all of them had done all they knew to do, but still her condition worsened, still her fever shot up, still her heart weakened. How could this be? And yet it was. So Jairus moved. Jairus ran. Jairus, having consulted all the specialists, having used a considerable part of his wealth, all to no avail, Jairus ran to consult with Dr. Jesus and to make one last, anguished attempt to save his daughter.
Jairus begged repeatedly, not giving up, “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.”
That should not surprise us. When a family system is working as it ought to work, the illness of one member of that family gets the others moving. They rally to do whatever they can because one of them is in need, one of them is hurting, and somebody needs to do something. If there is any kind of love and care within that family, it will show up when somebody in that family is ill. And even more so, of course, when that one is gravely ill.
Launer Jones was fortunate indeed to have had a family like this. You rallied around her all the way. When this mysterious, complex thing came up, several months back, you saw to it that she got good care. You saw to it that at first one hospital, then a nursing home, then another hospital, she was well served. You saw something of what was coming and you planned for another nursing home, you planned for hospice care. Like Jairus, you invested yourselves, your resources, and your love in her. But you also had to watch her decline, steeply and suddenly, in anguishing ways, and you knew you needed even more. You knew that as much as you had done for her, it was not enough to reverse a deterioration of this body, which had always been so strong, small as she was. It was not enough.
So you did more. You, like Jairus, consulted with Dr. Jesus. You ran to his feet, as did your brothers and sisters in this church, and you implored him, “Come lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” Your family went with faith to the Great Physician and implored Him, repeatedly, for His presence.
But the remarkable thing about this story in the New Testament is not only the story of Jairus and his daughter. It is the story of the interruption. The distraction. You would have expected that Jesus, once He had agreed to go on and take care of things with this little girl, you would have expected that He would make a bee-line for her bedside and that nothing, absolutely nothing, would have deflected Him from finishing that task. That’s what you would have expected from the Lord of life, and surely that’s what Jairus expected. “Hey, everybody, Jesus is on His way, and everything’s going to be all right.”
But no, no. Somebody interrupted. Somebody got Jesus’ attention. Somebody distracted Him. Here is this woman, ill for twelve years, who lays her grubby hands on His clothes and forcibly detains Him. It is as though she thinks that her illness is more important than your illness. It is as though she thinks that the world centers on her. Like a character named Edith in a modern novel, of whom it was said that Edith thought of herself as an island, bounded on the north and south and east and west by Edith! Who does she think she is, to demand Jesus’ help, now?!
Now, if you had been Jairus, what would you have thought? If you had been this man, desperate for his daughter’s life, what would you have felt? I don’t know about you, but I would have thought, “This woman, this insistent and insensitive and selfish person, who does she think she is to lay her claim on the Lord? Can she not see that I need Him?” I don’t know about you, but I would have said, “Hey, can she not see that my daughter has a properly scheduled appointment, and that Jesus is not an emergency room, open 24 hours a day to the dregs of humanity?”
I suspect most of us would have felt that her interruption was unwarranted and rude. And when we learn that power had gone out of Him to heal this woman, power that maybe we would have needed, we might have become furious. Exasperated, furious, and then frustrated, as people came from Jairus’ house to say, “It’s too late. She’s gone. She’s dead. Too late.” That would have angered most of us.
But listen to the rest of the story. Notice how Jesus was not anxious and neither was Jairus. Jesus had never been anxious. That someone else took His attention for a moment did not create anxiety in Him. He knew where He was headed, He knew what He was about.
Nor is there any evidence of anxiety in Jairus. Nothing, nothing in the text suggests that this father lost His faith. Nothing tells us that He lost confidence in the life-giving power of Jesus. Even when they get to Jairus’ home, and everybody is standing around weeping and wailing, no word of anxiety from Jairus. And, most astonishing of all, when Jesus rebukes the mourners and tells them that this child is not dead, but is asleep, and they hoot and holler at this lunatic ... look at the nut that Jairus has brought in this time! ... even then there is nothing to suggest that this grieving father lost his cool or broke his faith. He stayed the course, he kept the faith, he waited to see what the Lord might do.
Neither Jesus nor Jairus was anxious, both Jesus and Jairus kept their faith in the God of love and life, and look what happened: Jesus took the child by the hand, He commanded her, “Get up”, and she got up! She came to life! Oh, what things await those who will live in faith and who will dismiss anxiety! Oh, what good things will come to us who will trust God, and will not be afraid as we walk the valley of the shadow of death.
I believe you know this lesson already. I believe that you, in your family, have seen that help comes from hope, not from fear; that life comes from trust, not from anxiety. You have been so attentive to your mother, sister, and grandmother. You have loved her and wanted the best for her. But through it all I have sensed that you were able and willing to trust the Lord to care for her and to do for her what He would. The interruptions, the distractions, the setbacks have not wounded you. Yes, you have been disappointed. But you have not been wounded beyond repair. You have trusted God’s love.
And so now comes the good news for you. Now comes the best news of all. Jesus took the child by the hand and said, “Get up”. And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.” Get up! To life, to wholeness and peace!
To you, the Jones family, today Christ says, “Get up”. As He expected a young girl of twelve to get up and to grow and mature, to you also He says, get up and grow from this experience. Get up and mature, now that you have been through this. Get up and grow, for even though you have lost one whom you loved, you can be made whole and you can have peace. Get up and grow.
To you he says, “Get up” And as He asked them to give the child something to eat, a very ordinary thing, but a nourishing thing, He asks you to go on about your lives. To work, to study, to play, to teach, to be who you are. He asks you to get up and express your faith that even though your world is not quite the same as it was, that the ordinary blessings of life are still yours. A meal, a home, a job, friends, family, church, neighborhood, it’s all still there. And it will nourish you and sustain you. “Get up” and participate. The gift of God is an ongoing life; in the ordinary things of life, you will find wholeness and peace.
And to you, most of all, He says, “Get up”, and believe to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Get up, and be astonished, as they were, “overcome with amazement”, at the goodness of God. For in our Christ there is life, and life abundant, not only here and now, for you; but also out there, for her, for Launer Jones, and for all who will trust in Him and receive it. Get up, for in our Christ there is the miracle of all miracles, not just life for one little girl, but life for all who will believe and trust Him. Get up, for God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that all who believe in Him would have life, eternal life. Get up and receive life!
And know that in God’s good time, even though it might look like He is distracted and that His attention is drawn away by too many other things, know that in God’s good time, there will be a day of victory. There will be a day when there will be no more pain, no more disease, no more pain, no more suffering, nay, no more death. There will be a day when all those who have lived in faith will hear a voice like a mighty trumpet. And it will cry out, “Get up!” “Get up!” For this is God’s great gettin’ up morning. Get up!
I know Launer Jones will be there. I believe I will be there. I hope you will be there too. “Get up, whole and at peace.”
