Jesus rules!
Mark • Sermon • Submitted • Presented • 31:39
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· 210 viewsJesus holds the power to fix our lives. He rules, even over sickness and death. But we need to engage in an "instigating action," a demonstration of our faith that Jesus does, indeed, rule in our lives. We see a model of that in both Jairus and the anonymous woman who touches Jesus's cloak on the way. What else can we learn from these two?
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Introduction
Introduction
One of the fascinating things about human beings is how much we depend on each other, and on nature around us, while at the same time insisting on our own independence. From birth we rely on our parents and our environment. But from the moment we can move on our own we’re trying to do our own thing.
But there is one thing that is guaranteed to make us ask for help. Can you think what it is?
Yes, trouble, strife, accidents, pain, suffering.
Here’s a question: which of these circumstances is more likely to force you to ask for help?
Spilling your coffee on your work?
Falling down and getting a bad gravel rash?
Or your car blowing up in the middle of nowhere?
What do you think?
When we are most desperate, when situation is most beyond our own ability to control, that’s when we are most likely to ask for help, isn’t it?
Do you think we behave the same way towards God? Only asking him for help when we’re in big trouble? We tend to do that, don’t we?
What’s the difference between God and people when we ask them for help?
That’s right, God can always help us, no matter how bad the situation! Jesus rules, right. He rules over everything, including even sickness and death! The trick, then, is to come to him before it’s too late.
Think about that while you go out to kid’s church with Graham and Kate.
The Context
The Context
Now, for us, let’s dig into the Scripture we just read. This story of Jairus, his dying daughter, and the fatal interruption of a desperately sick woman, is in the middle of a set of three stories that demonstrate that Jesus rules, and he rules over everything. He rules over the wind and the waves (Mk 4:35-41). He rules over the most powerful evil (Mk 5:1-20). And he even rules over sickness and death itself! Our Lord reigns, is what this section proclaims.
Instigating action
Instigating action
But Jesus has always ruled, right? He was the word through which the world was created (
3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.
), and all things are sustained through him (
3 He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high,
). What does this have to do with us mere mortals?
Well, in this story we see two examples of what we might call “instigating actions” on behalf of the people who come to Jesus.
The first is the action of Jairus, a synagogue leader, who pushes through the crowds swarming Jesus, and begs Jesus, all dignity discarded in his desperation, to come and heal his dying daughter. It is important to note Jesus’s response. Does he stop to weigh the need to entertain the crowds versus the private work of healing this girl? Does he demand Jairus show some form of worthiness? No, Mark writes,
24 And he went with him.
And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him.
Jesus was there waiting for Jairus to come to him in desperation. Jesus is always there, waiting for us to finally recognise that we can’t solve our problems, we can’t fix ourselves, we can’t heal our relationships or repair our children. While people crowd around Jesus, and always have, hoping for entertainment, something spectacular, Jesus waits for those of us who have reached the end of ourselves, who have nothing left to give, to come and ask him for help. And he always answers, immediately.
But the process of his answer may not be immediate. Which brings us to the second instigating action, the action of the sick woman.
The circumstances of Jairus and this anonymous woman could not have been more different. Jairus is named by Mark, the woman is anonymous. Jairus is an influential, respected man, with a powerful position in religious life as a synagogue ruler. The woman is, thanks to her disease, a social outcast, rendered unclean for the last twelve years, banned from the temple, the centre of Jewish life. She has tried everything to solve this: she has tried medicine, and it has all failed; she has spent money, and it has bought nothing. For the length of Jairus’s daughter’s life, she has struggled with this, but it has defeated her, and diminished her. And so, unlike Jairus who can simply walk up to Jesus and openly beg for his help, the woman feels that the most she can do is sneak a touch of his cloak. But such faith does she have, that this is, in fact, all she needs to do.
Just as Jesus was waiting for Jairus’s request for help, so too was he waiting for this woman’s touch. As soon as she touches him, she is healed.
29 And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.
Faith is relationship
Faith is relationship
Jesus, of course, is aware that his power has been exercised, and he makes a show of asking who touched him. In recounting this, Mark seems to be emphasizing the contrast between being in near proximity to Jesus, and actually having faith in him, and acting on that. The disciples, unknowingly, highlight the contrast:
31 And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ”
This contrast has always plagued the church. We can come to church week after week for our entire lives, we can give vast sums into God’s treasury, we can serve on the mission field, and yet, at the end, we can face Jesus and find that he doesn’t know us.
English Standard Version Chapter 7
21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’
It’s not being a tree that matters, it’s being a good tree, doing the “will of my Father who is in heaven,” rather than our own will, that matters. We need to be a tree that sends its roots down into the living water of God’s Word: we need to touch Jesus.
3 He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.
We need to recognise our desperate need. If we come to Jesus, like the crowds, satisfied with our lives--with ourselves, with our behaviour, with the way we treat others--and wanting only to get more: more joy, more wealth, more health, an abundant life now… If that’s how we come to Jesus, we are just brushing against him in the crowd, and we remain unchanged, dead in our sins. We’re like rootless chaff that the wind blows away.
4 The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
But if we come to him like the woman, aware that we are bleeding to death, that we are unclean, untouchable; or if we come like Jairus, knowing that the most precious things are slipping away from us, that we are losing what makes us whole; only then--when we come to Jesus, desperate, without any other hope, throwing ourselves at his feet--only then will we touch him, will his power surge from his infinite love and strength, will we be healed and reborn.
But Jesus doesn’t just want a fleeting touch. He wants a relationship. And so he calls out, “Who touched me?” And when we come, fearful and trembling, confessing the whole truth, he says to us:
33 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. 34 And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
This is the only time in the gospels that Jesus refers to anyone with such a tender address. “Daughter,” he says, “your faith has made you well.” It was not the magic touch of his clothes that healed her, it was her faith in the God of Israel, and her demonstration of that in action. In fact, Mark points out the progress of this woman’s faith:
27 She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. 28 For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.”
She heard about Jesus, she came to Jesus, and she touched Jesus in faith. We all must follow the same path: hearing the word, responding to it by coming to Jesus, and acting on it by placing all our burdens, all our desperation, into his hands.
The rewards of faith
The rewards of faith
Sometimes, though, it feels like God, like Jesus, isn’t answering us. He delays and delays and our daughter dies. What do we do then? Our desperation is doubled, our prayers unanswered.
When the terrible news of his daughters death comes to Jairus, how does Jesus respond?
35 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?” 36 But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.”
His response is, to be frank, shocking. He basically ignores this report. Mark is very clever in his choice of words here, as James R. Edwards explains:
Mark’s word choice for Jesus’ hearing the report in v. 36 is masterful. The Gk. parakouein (translated in the NIV as “ignoring”) has three distinct meanings: (1) to overhear something not intended for one’s ears, (2) to pay no attention to or ignore, and (3) to refuse to listen or to discount the truth of something. All three meanings apply to Jesus in v. 36.
James R. Edwards, The Gospel according to Mark, The Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Leicester, England: Eerdmans; Apollos, 2002), 166.
Instead of responding directly to this news, Jesus turns to Jairus and makes a demand of him: “Do not fear, only believe.” Jairus has just seen how powerful belief in Jesus is, but he is being asked to take it quite a large step further. It’s one thing to cure a disease, it’s another to restore life. But it seems that Jairus can believe, and so Jesus goes to his home.
Just as Mark contrasted the pressing crowds with the faithful woman, now he contrasts the believing Jairus with the mocking mourners. These professionals, hired as part of the funeral process, have seen death after death. Jesus’ assertion that this death is merely sleep is offensive folly. Dead people don’t get up again, and it’s contemptuous to lead a parent into believing such a thing. And so they treat Jesus with contempt. We in our modern, materialistic society, are more like these mocking mourners than we would like to admit. Too often we laugh at the extravagant promises of the gospel. But Jesus has been laughed at before when he promised life. Fifteen hundred years before.
10 The Lord said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. 11 Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years. The way of women had ceased to be with Sarah. 12 So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I am worn out, and my lord is old, shall I have pleasure?”
Laughter didn’t dismiss him then, and it doesn’t dismiss him now. Instead, he dismisses the mockers, and, turning to the dead girl, he takes her hand and his Word is, “Talitha coum,” or “Little girl, arise.”
41 Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.”
When Jesus took the dead girl by the hand, it was the second time that day that he touched uncleanness. According to the Jewish Law, he should have been made unclean. But Jesus is not bound by the law, because he is God. The infinite cleanness, the infinite holiness of God swallows up the uncleanness of disease and death, and the little girl gets up, alive.
But there’s more. Because Jesus is the God who is not merely infinite, but also intimate, he sees something even the girl’s parents don’t: she is hungry, and so he instructs them to feed her.
43 And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.
Jesus is like that for us, too. He lifts us up out of our desperation, breathing life back into our souls. But he doesn’t forget that we are merely human, that we need to eat. He cares for everyday needs, as well as our most desperate needs. That’s why we can say that “God is love.”
8 Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. 10 In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.
The struggle of giving up
The struggle of giving up
Now for many of us, here on the beautiful Gold Coast, the barrier that we most often face is not some debilitating disease, or some desperation, but rather our comfort. When we are comfortable we’re like the crowd that jostles Jesus but remains untouched by his power. When we’re in control of our lives, as we usually are, we are like the mourners at Jairus’s house, acting out our part in the drama but with no personal stake to compel or encourage belief. So for that everyday struggle, we must find some way to dig down into our desperation. We must carry around an awareness of our need. Even the secular world is aware of this. In the NBC sitcom The Good Place, Ted Danson co-stars as an immortal being called Michael. In the second season the humans who inhabit the afterlife he has created for them insist on teaching him morals. However, before he can learn morality, he has to understand the idea of moral consequences, and so they ask him to ponder the potential of his destruction (which is, apparently, possible if he messes up somehow). This sends him into a terrible funk.
He tries to deny his newly experienced desparation, leading to an extreme version of a midlife crisis. But eventually, Eleanor, played by Kristen Bell, explains to him that,
“All humans are aware of death, so we’re all a little bit sad, all the time!” She continues, “And if you try and ignore your sadness, it just ends up leaking out of you anyway.” The solution? As Eleanor recounts it, “In the words of a very wise Bed, Bath, and Beyond employee I once knew, ‘Go ahead and cry all you want, but you’re gonna have to pay for that toilet plunger.’”
Fortunately, we don’t live in a sitcom, and that existential sorrow, which should be a mark of all Christians dwelling in this vale of tears, finds its peace and its joy in the touch of Christ. Let us never forget that we are God’s children, that we need him most desperately, and that he alone is our refuge, our portion. Amen.