The Lord of Interruptions: Text: Mark 5:21-43
Introduction: A Tale of Two Deaths
Our lives are a series of interruptions, are they not? We make our plans, we set our course, and then the phone rings. A child gets sick. The car breaks down. A crisis erupts. We live in a world that refuses to march to the beat of our drum. The great question of life is not whether we will be interrupted, but rather who is sovereign over the interruptions. Is it blind chance? Is it chaos? Or is there a Lord of the interruptions, one who weaves even the delays and the detours into His perfect tapestry?
In this passage, Mark presents us with a story inside of a story, a divine interruption. We have two desperate cases, both of which represent a form of death. First, we have Jairus, a man of standing, a ruler of the synagogue. His crisis is acute and public. His twelve year old daughter, the delight of his life, is at the very edge of death. His plea is urgent. Second, we have a nameless woman. Her crisis is chronic and hidden. For twelve years, the same length of time the little girl has been alive, this woman has been slowly dying, bleeding out her life, her money, and her hope. Her condition made her ceremonially unclean, an outcast from the community. She was a dead woman walking.
One is a sprint toward the grave; the other is a marathon of decay. One represents the sudden tragedy that strikes a family; the other represents the slow, grinding misery that isolates a soul. And Jesus Christ, the Lord of life, stands in the middle of this chaotic press of human desperation, and He demonstrates that He is the absolute sovereign over both kinds of death, and over all the interruptions in between.
The Text
And when Jesus had crossed over again in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered around Him; and so He stayed by the seashore. And one of the synagogue officials named Jairus came up, and on seeing Him, fell at His feet and pleaded with Him earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is at the point of death; please come, that by coming, You may lay Your hands on her, so that she will be saved and live.” And He went off with him; and a large crowd was following Him and pressing in on Him.
And a woman, who had a hemorrhage for twelve years and had endured much at the hands of many physicians, and had spent all that she had and was not helped at all, but rather had grown worse, after hearing about Jesus, she came up in the crowd behind Him and touched His garment. For she was saying, “If I just touch His garments, I will be saved from this.” And immediately the flow of her blood was dried up; and she knew within her body that she had been healed of her affliction. And immediately Jesus, perceiving in Himself that the power proceeding from Him had gone forth, turned around in the crowd and was saying, “Who touched My garments?” And His disciples were saying to Him, “You see the crowd pressing in on You, and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’ ” And He was looking around to see the woman who had done this. But the woman fearing and trembling, aware of what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. And He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you; go in peace and be healed of your affliction.”
While He was still speaking, they came from the house of the synagogue official, saying, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the Teacher anymore?” But Jesus, overhearing what had been spoken, said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid, only believe.” And He allowed no one to accompany Him, except Peter and James and John the brother of James. And they came to the house of the synagogue official; and He saw a commotion, and people loudly crying and wailing. And entering in, He said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and crying? The child has not died, but is asleep.” And they began laughing at Him. But putting them all out, He took along the child’s father and mother and His own companions, and entered the room where the child was. And taking the child by the hand, He said to her, “Talitha kum!” (which translated means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!”). And immediately the little girl stood up and began to walk, for she was twelve years old. And immediately they were completely astounded. And He gave them strict orders that no one should know about this, and He said that some food should be given to her to eat.
(Mark 5:21-43 LSB)
An Anonymous Touch of Faith (vv. 25-34)
Jesus is on an urgent mission to the house of a prominent man, but He is interrupted by a nobody. This woman is the picture of utter desperation.
"And a woman, who had a hemorrhage for twelve years and had endured much at the hands of many physicians, and had spent all that she had and was not helped at all, but rather had grown worse..." (Mark 5:25-26 LSB)
For twelve years, she has been in a state of perpetual uncleanness according to the Mosaic law. She cannot go to the temple. Anyone she touches becomes unclean. She is isolated, ostracized. She has tried everything the world has to offer. The "many physicians" are a picture of worldly wisdom. They took all her money, subjected her to great suffering, and in the end, her condition was worse. This is what the world does. It promises solutions, drains your resources, and leaves you in a more desperate state. Sin is like this. It promises life and freedom, but it is a hemorrhage of the soul that bleeds you dry.
But she heard about Jesus. Faith comes by hearing. And her faith, while perhaps crude and tinged with superstition, was directed at the right object. "If I just touch His garments, I will be saved." She believed that power resided in Him, and that even the slightest contact would be enough. She fights her way through the crowd, this unclean woman, making everyone she bumps into technically unclean, to get to the only one who can make her clean.
And what happens? Power flows. "Immediately the flow of her blood was dried up." But Jesus is not content with an anonymous, transactional healing. He stops. "Who touched My garments?" The disciples, ever the pragmatists, are baffled. "You see the crowd pressing in on You, and You say, 'Who touched Me?'" They see a crowd; Jesus sees a person. They see jostling; He sees a touch of faith. Many people were touching Jesus that day, but only one touched Him with faith. You can be in the crowd at church, you can be pressed up against Christian things your whole life, but unless you reach out with the hand of personal faith, no power will flow.
He makes her come forward, not to shame her, but to honor her. He wants to look her in the eye. He wants to move her from a theology of magic to a theology of relationship. He calls her "Daughter," welcoming this outcast back into the family of God. He clarifies the source of her healing: "your faith has saved you." It was not the cloth, but the Christ, that saved her. And He sends her away with "peace," the Hebrew shalom, which means total-person-wholeness. He did not just stop her bleeding; He restored her life.
The Death of Hope and the Life of Faith (vv. 35-40a)
But while Jesus is dealing with this chronic case, the acute case has taken a turn for the worse. The interruption has been fatal, or so it seems.
"While He was still speaking, they came from the house of the synagogue official, saying, 'Your daughter has died; why trouble the Teacher anymore?'" (Mark 5:35 LSB)
Here is the voice of the world. It is the voice of resignation, of cold, hard facts. It is the voice of what C.S. Lewis called "the great refusal." Death is the end. The case is closed. Don't bother God with the impossible. This is the ultimate pragmatism, and it is the death of faith. How often does this voice whisper in our ear when we are praying for a lost child, a dying church, a decaying nation? "It's too late. Why trouble the Teacher anymore?"
But Jesus is not a slave to our timetables or our definitions of "too late." The text says He was "overhearing what had been spoken." He intercepts the message of despair before it can fully land in Jairus's heart. And His response is a direct command that is the bedrock of the entire Christian life:
"Do not be afraid, only believe." (Mark 5:36 LSB)
He does not offer platitudes. He does not say, "I'm sorry for your loss." He issues a command. He pits two things against each other: fear and faith. You cannot do both. You must choose. Fear looks at the circumstances, at the dead body, at the mourners. Faith looks at Christ. Jesus is telling Jairus, "The report of the world has come in. Now My report is coming in. Whose report will you believe?"
He then dismisses the crowd and even most of the disciples, taking only His inner circle. He arrives at the house to find the world's reaction to death: a "commotion," professional mourners wailing loudly. It is a performance of hopelessness. Into this manufactured despair, Jesus speaks a word of radical redefinition: "The child has not died, but is asleep." He is not denying the biological reality. He is asserting a higher, theological reality. In the presence of the Resurrection and the Life, death itself is demoted. It is no longer a final tyrant, but a temporary condition from which He can awaken anyone He pleases. And how does the world respond to this glorious truth? "And they began laughing at Him." This is the inevitable reaction of unbelief. The world that lives in the kingdom of death will always mock the Lord of Life. They think His claims are absurd, laughable. And Jesus's response to their scorn is instructive. He put them all out.
The Whisper of Life (vv. 40b-43)
You cannot have a resurrection in a room full of cynics. Before God works His mighty power, He often cleanses the space of unbelief. He puts out the mockers, the scoffers, and the faithless. He will not cast His pearls before swine. This is a word for the church. If we want to see the resurrecting power of God in our families and congregations, we must first be willing to put out the spirit of mockery and unbelief.
"And taking the child by the hand, He said to her, 'Talitha kum!' (which translated means, 'Little girl, I say to you, arise!')" (Mark 5:41 LSB)
With the mockers outside, the Lord of life gets personal. He takes the dead girl by the hand. The source of all life touches death, and death cannot stand. He does not shout. He does not perform some elaborate ritual. He speaks to her as a father would wake his sleeping child. He uses the familiar Aramaic, "Talitha kum." This is the voice that spoke the cosmos into existence, now whispering a dead child back to life. His word is performative. He speaks, and reality rearranges itself to obey.
"And immediately the little girl stood up and began to walk." The healing is instantaneous and complete. And then, in a beautiful touch of practical grace, "He said that some food should be given to her to eat." This was no ghost. This was a real, physical resurrection. The Lord who raises the dead also cares that the resurrected get their lunch. He is concerned with our bodies, not just our souls. This points to the final resurrection, where we will have real, physical, glorified bodies.
Conclusion: The Lord Over All Death
Mark has masterfully woven these two stories together. The number twelve links them: twelve years of life for the girl, twelve years of dying for the woman. One represents a life cut short; the other a life drained away. Both are pictures of the effect of sin and the fall. Sin can kill us suddenly, or it can kill us by a thousand cuts, bleeding us dry of life and hope.
But Jesus is Lord over both. To the woman, representing the outcast, the ceremonially unclean, the one slowly dying in shame, He brings instant cleansing and restoration. He makes her a daughter again. To the girl, representing the finality of the grave, He brings resurrection. He is not defiled by touching the unclean woman, nor is He defiled by touching the dead body. On the contrary, His cleanness swallows up their uncleanness. His life swallows up their death.
This is the gospel. We are all in this story. We are all Jairus, pleading for our children, our families, our churches, which seem to be at the point of death. And the world comes to us and says, "It's too late. They are already dead. Stop troubling the Teacher." And Jesus turns to us, over the noise of the professional mourners, and says, "Do not be afraid, only believe."
And we are all the woman, having spent everything on worldly solutions only to find ourselves worse off, bleeding out our lives in quiet desperation. And the only hope is to press through the crowd, through the shame, through the uncleanness, and touch the hem of His garment. The good news is that when we do, He will stop for us. He will turn, He will call us out, He will call us sons and daughters, and He will make us whole.
Whatever your interruption, whatever your crisis, whatever your death, the command is the same. Do not listen to the mockers. Do not listen to the messengers of despair. Do not be afraid. Only believe.