Little girl, I say to you, arise!

In the gospel of Mark there is a compelling story about a synagogue official, his daughter, and Jesus.

Jesus is surrounded by a crowd of people when he is approached by a synagogue official named Jairus. In scripture we are told Jairus has a daughter who is at the point of death. Jairus “pleaded earnestly” with Jesus to come lay His hands on his daughter so she could be healed and live.

Jesus is held up on his way to see the little girl in a scene where he heals another woman. Enough time elapses that someone comes to tell Jairus that his daughter has died. This is deeply distressing news. I can only imagine how this father must have felt; this father who pleaded with Jesus to come lay his hands on his daughter was held up healing another person and now his own daughter is dead.

Jesus responds and tells Jairus, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.”

When Jesus arrives at the house, “he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly.” Jesus asks, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” Naturally, this does not get a favorable response from the crowd that has declared that the little girl is dead. What does this man know about the condition of the little girl? Why is He even there? I can imagine a lot of chaos, charged emotion, and even anger enveloping this scene, but Jesus sends them on their way nonetheless.

Then Jesus “took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. He took the child by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha koum,’ which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise!’ The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around.”

There have been seasons in my life when I felt much like the little girl in the story. Whether it was a situation that felt impossible, a physical or spiritual suffering that was lengthy and felt like it would never end, or a deep wound inflicted by another that felt like it would never heal. These were difficult sufferings that required the gentle voice and the gentle healing of our Lord, sometimes over the course of many days, many months, or even many years, reminding me that the part of me that was suffering was not dying or dead.

In these particular seasons of suffering, there can sometimes be a great crowd of voices declaring what they perceive as the facts of the situation, much like the crowd that was weeping and wailing in the scripture passage, and sometimes, while well intentioned or simply onlookers gawking, that noise can only make a situation more painful, more distressing. It is so important to leave room for Jesus’s perspective that provides the genuine truth of reality, as well as those who can hold space for that truth, much like the father in the story did when he had the faith to ask Jesus to heal his daughter.

When we give Jesus the space to work in our lives and in our souls, it allows Him the space to say, with confidence, with compassion, and with love, “I say to you, arise!” And then we can walk from a place of deep suffering to walking with our hearts, minds, and souls once again at peace, intact, and healed.

Whatever place feels wounded, hurt, or is experiencing deep suffering or grief within your soul, allow Jesus to enter there and say to you, with love, with compassion, with healing, with gentleness, and even with force, “I say to you, arise!”

Scripture passage quoted from Mark 5:21-24;35-42, New American Bible