Taking tiny sideways steps, one arm stretched out before them to ward off advancing fans, the disciples attempted to usher Jesus through the sea of people surrounding them. It was a monumental task. One step forward, two steps back. Or to the side. Or a dead standstill. They were getting nowhere, regardless how necessary it was for them to get somewhere. They truly needed to leave. Jesus had places to be. He had been politely summoned to an important place by an influential man with an imperative request. More urgent than all other requests. His daughter was dying.
It was a last-ditch effort on Jairus’ part. He didn’t know what else to do. They had exhausted all other avenues. Doctors. Tinctures. Advice from friends. Nothing changed his daughter’s declining health. She was getting worse. Daily. Clearly, her last breath was imminent. In desperation, knowing his contemporaries may well hold him in contempt for his actions, Jairus had publicly come to the only One he believed had even a chance, no matter how remote, of saving her life.
The decision wasn’t popular. He wasn’t likely to get slaps on the back and a promotion at work. Not everyone who held positions in the synagogue was eager to place their faith and hope in Jesus. Jairus didn’t have a choice. Not if he wanted his daughter to live. But he did have the pedigree. Jew. Synagogue leader. Religiously faithful. Good father. Everyone knew his name. His resume was highlighted in all the right places. The disciples deemed him qualified for a miracle right from the start. In fact, they were willing to part the crowd, and escort Jesus out of there so He could heal this important man’s daughter! Yet just as they began to find some success in the doing, Jesus got sidetracked. Again.
Abruptly halting their departure, Jesus stopped mid-step. Turning to look around, He asked aloud who had touched Him. The disciples snorted in derision. It was a ridiculous question. With the crowd pressing in against Him, all trying to touch Him, see Him, speak to Him, how could Jesus expect anyone to know who had touched Him? It was probably accidental, anyway, and they needed to be going. Jairus was waiting. His request was important. He was esteemed. The rest of the unwashed miscreants would have to wait. Their resumes didn’t sparkle with glowing recommendations. They needed to go. Right now.
Jesus wasn’t going anywhere. His question demanded an answer and He would have it. Gazing from one person to the next, Jesus silently waited, giving the miracle stealer time to own their actions. Eventually she did. Slipping around the large man she’d hidden behind, came a slight woman, the marks of her extensive illness still evident on her frame. Fear etched her features. Movements hesitant, eyes wary, speech barely audible, she claimed her actions. She’d been sick for years. More than a decade. Doctors had treated and mistreated, guessed and hoped. Money had run out. She was tired of being sick. She was sick of being tired. Then Jesus came to town and she’d known, with every fiber of her being, He was the answer to her illness.
She’d done everything to get to him. Crawling past kicking feet and dirty ankles. Stretching, reaching, hoping, praying. The graze of His garment against her fingers as He turned to walk away had been almost accidental. She didn’t think she would touch Him. Yet she had. As she stood there, whole yet still appearing emaciated and tired from her extended physical battle, surely the disciples weighed her against the man they were supposed to be going to see. A nameless woman in a sea of people. Poor. Female. Unemployed. Her reputation built solely on her illness. Her resume less than desirable. In comparison to Jairus, she was sorely underqualified. Yet Jesus saw something in her that was worth saving. He called her “Daughter.”
Even as Jesus spoke the words, a servant came to tell Him Jairus’ daughter had passed away. He didn’t need to come after all. It was too late. Although we have no record that they voiced them, the disciples must surely have had questions. Their human minds must have whirred with wonderings. What made that old, decrepit woman more important than a dying child? Couldn’t Jesus have gone and saved the girl then come back to the woman? Didn’t Jairus’ list of qualifications push him up the list of people to help? And, even after Jesus spoke breath back into that child’s lifeless body, it is logical to think the disciples wondered how, exactly, Jesus decided who to heal, who to save, who to call, and when? (Luke 8:40-56)
They would often have occasion to wonder these things. Approaching the well to find Him in conversation with the Samaritan woman, they were immediately aghast at the social faux pas. Did Jesus not know what that woman was? Did He not understand the social restrictions forbidding Jews to interact with Samaritans? What could He possibly be thinking? Knowing nothing about her, they judged her. Without knowing she had been married five times and was now living with a man who was not her husband, they determined her worthlessness. Basing their disgust and consternation solely on her gender and lineage, they deemed her categorically unqualified. She was wholly unworthy to receive anything from Jesus. Not grace. Not salvation. Not even a conversation. Jesus didn’t share their opinion. He saw something more. Something worth saving. And He blessed her with water that wasn’t from the well. Living water for eternal life. (John 4:1-29)
For the disciples standing within earshot of the cross, they must surely have been surprised to overhear the conversation between Jesus and the thief hanging next to Him. By his own admission, the thief was unquestionably disqualified for eternal life. He knew the mountain of sin he’d been carrying around with him, the piles of guilt that had built up at his door. He believed the sentence against him was fair. He made no move to persuade anyone of his innocence. He asked for nothing more than a thought, a memory, a mention. He knew he didn’t deserve it. There was no way he could earn it. Even if he had all the money and goods he’d stolen over his lifetime, he knew it would never be enough to purchase his redemption. In bold letters across the evening paper would be the accurate heading, “Death Penalty Not Enough to Pay For Thief’s Offenses.” In monumental pain and anguish, Jesus hoisted Himself up on nail-pierced feet just far enough to get air in His lungs to speak. Enough air to offer the same things He’d offered to every soul that asked. Pardon. Redemption. Eternal life. (Luke 23:39-43)
The listening disciples must have been astounded. They shouldn’t have been. It was the reason He came. They knew it. They had seen it. Apparently they had some trouble comprehending it. Decades later, after his own encounter with the gospel, Paul would put into easily understood words what the disciples had witnessed. In his letter to the Colossians, penned in beautiful, comforting, inspiring verbiage, Paul outlined for us how God the Father, Creator, Sustainer, Beginning and End, sent Jesus, His only Son, to qualify worthless humanity for Heaven. Any of them. All of them. Everyone who would come to Him in repentance and faith. The over-qualified. The under-qualified. The obviously unqualified. The utterly disqualified. Everyone. With absolutely nothing to recommend us, Jesus came, snatched up the list of sins that had us standing in line to receive judgment, and decisively hammered it to His cross. With the echoing blow of “It is finished,” Jesus gave us redemption and freedom from sin, thereby granting us the power to move out of the domain of darkness into the glorious light of the kingdom of Jesus Christ! He set us free from the bondage of sin and death! Hallelujah! Praise the Lamb! That’ll preach! (Colossians 1:12-14, 2:13-14; Romans 8:1-2; )
No matter who you are, where you are, what your resume says or how your rap sheet reads, the gospel truth remains the same. God the Father sent Jesus Christ, His Son, to die on the cross so those who qualified only for hell could qualify for Heaven. You. Me. Your friends. Your neighbors. Law-abiding citizens. Souls on death row. Whosoever will may come. All of us. No one has to permanently dwell in the domain of darkness. No one has to perpetually carry that bulky burden of sin and guilt. No one has to die in their sins. Because of God. God made a way to cancel our sin debt with all its ugly details. He turned over our list of disqualifications to Jesus Christ who nailed it to His cross. It. Is. Gone! Forever. Victory is ours through the shed blood of Christ! We don’t deserve it. Couldn’t earn it. Would never be able to afford the purchase. And we don’t have to. It’s free. Through repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, everyone has the opportunity to be a resident of the kingdom of God and share in the inheritance of Heaven. That, my friends, is the Gospel and it will absolutely preach! (Revelation 22:17; Romans 10:13; Acts 2:21; John 3:16; John 11:25-26; Ephesians 2:8-9)