I used to let others form my opinions for me. If people I looked up to said something or someone was good or bad, I didn't think too much about it. I'd agree, and voila, the opinion would become mine! I think that's what happened to our friend Jairus. You can read his story in the books of Matthew (9:18-26), Mark (5:22-43), and Luke (8:41-56). He was swayed by those he respected until his need outweighed his prejudices. Listen as Jairus tells us what I imagine it may have been like for him. (I will experience a change of heart)
As a synagogue official, it was vital that I got it right! My job was to ensure everything was done in order and as prescribed. So, I leaned heavily on the Pharisees and their opinions. He was welcomed with open arms when they said someone was a good teacher; if they didn't like someone, he was out.
This guy, Jesus, though! He was different! At first, it was easy to agree when they said he was a nut-job—calling on Jews to repent. What nonsense! We are the sons of Abraham, for pity's sake! Righteousness is in our blood! Then Jesus starts telling stories about farming and such. Who needs to be told to plant seeds in fertile soil rather than on the street, where they will be trampled? I guess the fishermen who followed him didn't know how to plant crops.
And don't get me started on his followers! Fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes! A real
Rabbi would have been carefully choosing among the bright young boys who came to the school I ran in the synagogue, not grabbing men from their boats and tax booths! So when the men whose job was to study the Scriptures said this one was not to be trusted, I nodded and followed along. Soon, the stories Jesus told started getting a little more pointed, and it got ugly! He would start out telling one of his crazy tales, and the next thing you knew, the scribes and Pharisees were the butt of the joke! I'll admit, there was a time or two when I had to cough to cover a snicker!
Then my daughter got sick. My wife urged me to go to Jesus. There were rumors all over town about how he had healed people of every type of illness. I'd even seen him restore a man's withered hand right in the middle of the synagogue and on the Sabbath, no less!
But to go to him? Me? There's always such a crowd around him everyone would see. I'd be laughed at! I'd lose my job! No one would respect me ever again! But I started watching him a little more closely and listening a little more carefully. My wife and I would talk about what I'd seen and what she heard at the market. What if this guy was legit? I wasn't as educated as the Pharisees, but I knew enough to see that Jesus was unusual, yes, but wise in a way I've never encountered before. And he taught with an authority that no other rabbi could match.
Our daughter was on her deathbed! I started praying,“If this Jesus is really from You, God, give me the faith to believe him!”
Then it happened. My daughter wasn't going to see another sunrise, and Jesus was only a mile or so from my house. Before I knew exactly what I was doing, I was on my knees at His feet, imploring Him to come. I somehow knew that if He just touched her, she would be well! I was totally unaware of the crowds until I started to lift my head and noticed some puzzled looks.
Suddenly, I realized the response I deserved! I had scoffed at Jesus and told others not to believe Him. I parroted the things the scribes and Pharisees said even as I began thinking. Why should He heal my daughter? Why not just laugh at me as I had laughed at Him many times before?
But then our eyes met. I saw no laughter, no contempt. I saw compassion and love. It was as if He looked directly at my heart and knew how broken I was. Suddenly, I realized I needed healing as much as my precious daughter!
I was starting to stand when Jesus' attention was diverted by a woman in the crowd seeking her own healing. It surprised me, but I wasn't annoyed with the disruption. Yesterday I would have been offended that an unclean woman would have the audacity to even be in this part of town, but I felt none of that. I felt compassion. The same love I felt flowing from His eyes into my heart, I now felt extended toward this person I had never seen before.
As we returned to the house, I couldn't stop chatting like an excited child. I wanted to tell Jesus my life story and why I needed Him so much. I told Him how grateful I was that He was coming and how undeserving I was!
“Don't bother the teacher anymore,” someone said. “The child is dead.” My heart, elated as it was a moment ago, sank like a rock in the Jordan! I could hear the flutes and the sound of a dirge being sung amidst weeping and wailing. I looked to Jesus. Were we too late? Could He still? Then, my wife was beside me. Her faith never faltered. “Please. Come.”, she whispered to Jesus.
It was really touching to see what a large crowd was there weeping for my child. I was overwhelmed by the show of grief and concern for my family. But then Jesus told them my daughter was only asleep, and the dirge turned to raucous laughter! They thought He was a fool! They thought I was all the more a fool for believing in the first place. I'd never live this down! But once again, my reaction surprised me. It didn't matter what they thought! Jesus shushed them and only let a couple of his followers, my wife and I, into the room where my daughter lay. My new-found faith was pushed near the breaking point when I saw her there. Not asleep at all! Still gray and cold as I kissed her forehead on the bed. With tears starting to spill, I looked to Jesus.
His eyes were glued to mine as he said,“Do not be afraid; only believe.” Then he took my precious little girl by the hand and asked her to get out of bed.
And she did!
I want to say it's continued to be as wonderful as it was that day, but that wouldn't be true.
It's hard not to follow the crowd and not care what others think of me and my family.
It hurts to lose the respect of those in authority.
I was devastated when they kicked me out of the synagogue.
It's painful trying to explain to those who have known me all my life that I was wrong and I no longer believe what I used to teach.
Their rejection stabs at my heart.
But all I have to do is glance at my daughter—my living, breathing, laughing, playing daughter—and I know I'll never value the crowd over God again!
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