Introduction
Let’s be honest: Father’s Day isn’t viewed quite the same way as Mother’s Day.
One man once said, “Father’s Day is the one day out of the year where my entire family obeys me. I tell them not to spend a lot of money on me—and they don’t.”
Father’s Day is to women what Valentines Day is to men: scrounging last minute for a gift or a card.
Really holds a special place in my heart.
Always wanted to be a father; never a question.
So much joy and happiness in delighting in your children.
Whole new dimension of love.
One aspect of this love is that, when your children get sick, an entire new dimension of fear sets in.
Child gets sick with a random fever and you are terrified.
You can feel their pain, and many times feel helpless when your child is hurting.
When the medicines don’t work, and the doctors don’t know what’s going on, you feel desperate—you would do anything to get your child better.
I imagine that’s exactly what a dad named Jairus felt when he came to Jesus in Mark 5.
Desperation in this daddy’s tone; tenderness and fear mingled together.
Not sure what brought him here, but he knows there is no one else who can save his daughter but Jesus.
Continuing Series: “No One Else: The Dad.”
Discussion
“When tough little boys grow up to be dads, they grow into big babies again”—Gary Allen.
Don’t know if Jairus was tough, but I do know he was a man of social standing; most likely a man of wealth.
In the text of Mark especially, Jewish leaders are hostile to Jesus (Mark 2:6-7; 3:6).
Could have easily dissuaded this man of influence from coming to Jesus; yet out of desperation he puts aside social convention, his career status, and pleads with another man to help his little girl.
The language he uses is tender, “My little daughter” or “My baby girl.”
Special bond between a father and his daughter; “Wrapped around her finger since the day she was born.”
This little girl who he sang to tenderly, comforting her in the night; who he put on his shoulders as she giggled with delight; who woke him up by jumping on his bed and yelled, “Good morning daddy”—His little girl is now dying.
And he can’t do anything about it—but Jesus can.
So he breaks through the crowd that’s pressing around him and he falls at his feet and begs, “Please come save my girl!” Absolute, utter desperation and fear—only a father can know.
As he’s trying to pull him through the packed crowd, there is a delay because of another woman; on his way to heal a 12 year old girl, he has to conquer a 12 year disease.
This distraction had to be agonizing; the hesitation on Jesus’ part had to kill Jairus.
In this moment of hesitation, a dreaded news report comes: “Your daughters dead, don’t bother the teacher anymore.”
Reminds me of when you’re watching a movie and the moment is really tense, but you know that the good guy is going to win in the end—except he doesn’t.
Jesus response: “Do not fear, go on believing.”
Idea: you came to me in faith, continue on in faith.
Regardless of what your friends are telling you, regardless of the funeral procession, regardless of your wife screaming in agony at the death of her child, regardless of the crowds that’s gasped at the bad news—keep on believing; and he does.
Imagine the absurdity of the scene that follows:
The mourning has already started; wailing and great tears from those surrounding the house.
Jesus tells them not to cry, for the girl is simply sleeping; they mock and ridicule him.
Shouldn’t surprise; faithless people often mock God’s message of hope.
Imagine someone coming into a funeral and telling us that.
Imagine the tension and anticipation; the hope against hope—maybe, just maybe he can do even more than He imagined.
He doesn’t simply place his hands on her, he speaks to her in similar language to her father, “Little girl, arise.”
“Wake up sweetie, its time to wake up from you nap.”
All of a sudden its like she never died. She wakes up,
