“Who touched me?”

The disciples are clueless, as usual.  They try to explain that the crowds were all touching Him, but He ignores them.  He is searching through the nearby crowds.  His eyes are looking, looking…

Is she scrambling back?  Is she trying to hide?  What will happen if the crowd and the synagogue official (!) realize what has happened?  But it is hard to hide or escape when you are down on your hands and knees in a crowd. 

And He spots her.  She couldn’t have been far away.
He moves towards her as the crowd parts.  Did a gasp go up when people began to see?  What happened in Jairus’ heart?

Afraid, trembling, she comes to Him.  The whole story floods out while everyone stands and gawks.  She cannot tell it fast enough.  Is she kneeling? Back on her hands and knees?  I think so.  Maybe she never left them.  Maybe she crawled to Him.

When she finally lets it all spill out, I think she finally met His eyes.

And Jesus speaks two words first.  This really matters.  Years later, these words stood out to Peter, who I believe later told this account and Mark wrote it down.

Most people think Jesus’ first words were “you faith has made you whole.”

But that isn’t correct.

His first words are “My daughter.”

Go ahead and stop for a second.  Pause and breath in those words.
 
Before anything else, He claims her.
This is the only person Jesus calls “daughter” in all four gospels.  When she has nothing to offer Him, He claims her as His.

In some sense, this is almost a challenge to the crowd – and Jairus perhaps?  Before the official can begin to be angry or quote Leviticus, Jesus makes it clear that He claims her.

Did she follow Him from this point?  It hardly matters.  I don’t think this means Jesus legally adopted her or that she now vacationed with Jesus.  So far as we know, she isn’t mentioned again.  Jesus encourages her to “go” in her newfound freedom.  Even if they never saw each other again, she knew she was meant to be.   God incarnate had let her know that she was His daughter.

Then He adds “your faith has made you well (whole); go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

In other words, when we bring uncleanness to Jesus, we do not stain Him; He purifies us.  There is no one unwanted.  Not really.

Incidentally men, there is an almost mirrored passage for us in Mark 2 about a paralyzed man.  Is there anything worse than being helpless – a burden – powerless – for us?  But he is the one whom Jesus calls “My son.”

And by the way, as this woman is reeling from being made whole in her soul and her body, a messenger comes to tell Jesus and Jairus that the “little daughter” had died.  Jesus tells the father not to fear.

They continue to the house. Jesus kicks out all of the mockers (many think these are professional mourners – who else would laugh?), takes His disciples, the mother and the father and offers His hand to the little girl.  He bids her “Little girl, get up.”

And she does and began to walk around.  Jesus had them feed her

Is it significant that she was 12 years old?  Born the same year that the other woman’s life had essentially ended?    I don’t know.  However, she is yet more evidence that you cannot bring anything to Him that impresses Him.

Alone, isolated, sick, abandoned, unwanted, unloved, filthy, unclean, impure… dead?

None of these stain Him.  He purifies them.

Welcome one and all, to the family of this Christ.