Written by Jennifer Percell, volunteer with Iron Rose Sister Ministries in Missouri
When I read the story of Jairus, I always feel a jolt of the panic this man must have felt as he fell to his knees at Jesus feet. His little girl was dying. But Jairus had to watch as a crowd came between him and his only hope. He must have felt terrible anxiety as the Savior stopped to speak to the woman who had touched His cloak. As Jesus told the woman to go in peace, Jairus must have wondered if he had any hope for peace. And then the news came that a parent cannot bear. His little girl was gone. He was told to stop bothering the Teacher. The crushing pain barely had time to set in though before Jesus offered new hope. The roller coaster of emotion ended with a family reunited and death stopped in its tracks. A scene only God can orchestrate, a resurrection.
I have not suffered the death of a child, but I have begged Jesus to save my children from spiritual death. There was a time when my fears for them left me panicked much like Jairus. A few years ago, I entered a very dark season. One of my dearest friends, my faithful, kind mother-in-law was nearing the end of her life. We were privileged to have her living with us in her final illness, but the pain of watching her fade away was weighing us down.
On a day when we were at the hospital helplessly watching cancer steal our loved one, I decided to go home for a shower. On the drive I spoke to a dear friend who had just lost his brother to a terrible crime. I felt that my heart could not take another ounce of pain. When I arrived at our house and brought in the mail there was a letter from our daughter. This letter confirmed my worst fears that this precious daughter had walked away from her faith.
Beginning that horrible day, I fell into what I now describe as a paralysis of my heart. I knew my number one purpose was to raise my children with strong faith and I had failed at all that really mattered.
Then, just as my mother-in-law entered the last few weeks of her life, another tragedy struck. My precious big sister, confidante and best friend was stricken with severe dementia and unable to live in her home. It was up to me to make very hard decisions concerning her care. My sorrow grew deeper. My faith did not waver but I identified very much with Jesus, the Man of sorrows.
At the lowest point of this season of despair, I became ill myself. It was necessary to take medical leave from one of the few jobs still functioning during COVID lock-down. I loved my days cooking for the elderly at a nursing home and now I had to abandon them in their lock-down loneliness.
My tears seemed to be the only constant in my life and like Jairus I felt that God had turned to help someone else in spite of my constant prayers for Him to intervene in all these crises. I began to feel that joy and laughter were inappropriate, that until my child returned to the Lord and my loved ones had relief, I had no right to be happy.
Jesus told Jairus not to be afraid, to believe and his girl would be healed. Slowly, gently, Jesus found ways to tell me not to be afraid. Somewhere in the midst of my frantic prayers and accompanying darkness, I came to the end. The end of uselessly rehearsing conversations again and again in my mind to see what I had said wrong or could fix. The end of offering God plans, ideas, and suggestions of how to change these hopeless situations. The end, I guess, of me: me trying to change all the things I had absolutely no control over. When Jairus was told his daughter was dead, he must have felt it was the end, the end of any solution he could see to his great need.
And at that end, God begins. When all our solutions are gone, all our fixes are broken and there is nothing left, we are finally ready for God. The mourners at Jairus' house had accepted the end. They laughed at the idea that Jesus could change death. Jesus, however, as always, had the last word. The Bible tells us He took the child by the hand, her spirit returned and she stood up.
When I felt I had reached my end, God could begin to reason with me. There were days when I truly understood I was not alone. I saw that asking God to heal my daughter's faith and care for my health, my sister and my grief for my mother-in-law, required me to understand that He heard my cries. I began to see my prayers as the act of handing the whole package of burdens to God and walking beside Him, free of the weight I could not carry. Each step taken when I let Jesus carry the pain, became lighter, until one day I realized that I could laugh. I could walk beside Jesus and feel joy.
Just as Jairus walked back to the house with Jesus, not knowing his daughter would live again, I still walk with so many unknowns. My daughter is still living without God, my mother-in-law is no longer here with us, my sister is out of my reach in her broken mind, and my illness is unresolved. But like the child raised by Jesus, my spirit has returned.
I learned that I can walk with deep sorrow and deep joy hand in hand. My heart can contain earth's anguish and heaven's peace as Jesus walks with me toward the resolutions I have prayed for. Someone has said, in Jesus a waiting season does not need to be a wasted season. Faith gives us constant hope of healing, peace and the resurrection of lost souls.
So sister, get up, wash your face, and live, because the Great Physician, the Resurrecting Jesus is on His way to raise your heart up and give you joy.
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