I pen these words to you today, beloved, hoping that you will read them, and know that without Him, there would be no you. I can hear you outside singing now, as you play. Who would have guessed, after seeing you so sick earlier that you would be so lively now? But I get ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.
We celebrated your twelfth birthday just a few weeks ago. You were so excited! And your mother and I are seeing our only little girl grow up before our eyes. Next year you will be a woman! It will not be long until I give you in marriage. But this year, you are still a girl, and you played like one on your birthday, giggling and playing with your friends. The next day you came to us and said you didn't feel well. We thought that all of the excitement had tired you out, and we put you to bed, expecting you to wake up animated again. But you didn’t. Your mother was worried, and we called in the doctor, but he said there was nothing he could do. We could only watch as your fever worsened, and your delirium increased. I prayed and fasted, and called in more doctors, but still, you got worse. There was nothing I could do, and I felt so helpless. I cried out to the Lord for a miracle, but there was only silence. They said you were dying. Beloved, I was not ready for you to leave this life. There is so much you have not experienced, and so much I want you to see.
This morning, when I had almost given up hope, I heard about a man. He has been gaining fame in the region, known for his miracles, and for his authoritative teaching on the scriptures. I had heard the stories of how he healed a paralytic. And just a few weeks ago we heard tell of how he had spoken just a word and healed the servant of a well-known Roman. He did not even enter the house! Maybe... maybe he could also heal you. I heard that he was crossing the lake that very day. In fact, his boat had been spotted and a crowd was already gathering to welcome him. So I left to go seek out this man, this Jesus, and ask him to help you. I arrived at the shore to find a crowd pushing forward to see him. I stood on my toes, but I could see nothing. I paced around the perimeter of the crowd, trying to get to him.,but there were too many people. I was growing more frantic by the moment. Just when I was ready to give up, the crowd shifted, and I saw him. Only a glimpse, but enough to renew my hope. He didn't look like a miracle man, but I had heard the stories, and I knew that the one who stood before me was my only hope. I pushed through the crowd and threw myself at his feet crying. "Please! Please! My little girl is only 12 - just turned 12 - and she is dying. The doctors can do nothing, and I have heard that you can heal. Please come to her. If you will not, there is no hope." My sorrow and fear overwhelmed me and I lay at his feet weeping. Jesus reached down and took my hand and gently helped me to my feet. I could see the compassion in his eyes as he said, "I will come." Never before have such simple words filled me with such hope! Surely, if he came, you would be healed! But time was short, and we had to hurry, for you were worsening, and even as I left the house the mourners were beginning to gather.
I set off toward the house at a rapid pace, but we had only gone a few steps when Jesus stopped. "Who touched me?" he asked. All around him people denied it.
"Who touched you?" I thought. "There are hundreds of people pressing all around us and you want to know who touched you? There is no time for this, my daughter is dying! If we don't get back soon it will be too late." I had barely finished my silent thoughts when Peter, one of Jesus' friends, spoke them aloud. "Master, the crowds surround you and press in on you."
"Yes!” I thought. “Now Jesus will see how foolish this is and we can continue on." But that was not his response.
"Someone touched me; for I noticed that power had gone out from me." Jesus continued to scan the faces of those in the crowd looking for the one who had touched him. And suddenly a murmur passed through the crowd and I saw a woman move timidly forward. She fell at his feet, tears streaming from her eyes, and began to tell her story.
"For twelve years," she sobbed, "I have been bleeding. I have not been able to do many of the things I used to do. So many times I have wanted to be in the temple to worship, and I couldn’t, because I was unclean. I have spent all I have on doctors, but not one has been able to help me. Then I heard about you. People said that you were able to heal."
Her story was much like mine. She, too, was at the end of hope, and she, too, had heard of the healer. But today I had no patience for her story. Time was passing and soon it would be too late. I glanced up at the sky to see how much the sun had moved since I had left the house. How much longer did I have? Not much longer. I shifted from foot to foot, and cleared my throat hoping to get Jesus' attention and remind him that he was supposed to be coming with me.
But Jesus was focused on this woman listening intently to her story, his eyes never straying from her. "I knew that you would be coming today-- I saw you in the boat." she continued. "I had to try. I had to try to reach you. But... but I am - I was - unclean. I am - I was - not allowed to be in a crowd for fear that I would defile those around me. There were people surrounding you everywhere so I stood back and watched you get out of your boat. I thought if I could only touch you... even just your robe... I might be healed. So I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled through the crowd. Then I reached out for you. My fingertips only brushed against edge of your robe, and immediately I knew the bleeding had stopped. I only touched the tassel of your robe, and the thing that had plagued me for twelve years, the thing that no doctor could cure, was stopped in an instant. I tried to crawl back out of the crowd when I heard you calling for the one who had touched you, and I knew it had to be me." She bowed her head as her voice trailed off.
I again glanced nervously at the sun, noting its progress. "Can't this woman speak faster?" I thought. I cleared my throat again and tried to motion to Peter to encourage the teacher to move on. Peter did not respond. I subtly tugged on the sleeve of Jesus' robe to remind him that I was still here, but he did not seem to notice. Instead, he kneeled in front of the woman and raised her head so that he could look into her eyes. He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."
"Daughter! Jesus! What about my daughter?" I opened my mouth to speak these words when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see my friend, Joseph, with tears coursing down his face. Immediately my heart twisted.
"Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher any longer."
The sound of my heart breaking became audible as I fell to my knees wailing. "Why?" I sobbed. "He said he would heal her. He said he was coming. Why did we have to stop? We could have made it in time."
Jesus, who had heard Joseph's words, turned to me and said, "Do not fear. Only believe, and she will be saved." His words sparked hope in the depths of my soul. Could it be that this man was capable of overcoming death? Could it be that he could not only heal the sick, but also raise the dead? I had known the stories of the prophets from the time I was young: how Elijah had raised the widow's son, and Elisha the Shunammite's son. But those were prophets of long ago. Could Jesus be as powerful as Elijah was?
I rose slowly to my feet and followed Jesus toward the house. We could hear the keening of the mourners before they ever came into view. When we arrived, we found people surrounding the house, weeping and crying out, and again tears flowed from my eyes. "Do not fear..." His words echoed in my mind as we entered the house. Only three of his followers, Peter, James, and John, and your mother and I were allowed to go with him. At the door he turned and called to the people mourning outside, "Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping." I heard the laughter through the walls. What a ridiculous thing to say! They knew the difference between dead and sleeping.
We entered the room where they had laid your body, and I approached your side and touched your cool, feverless cheek, grieving that I had not been there when you died. Jesus came up beside me and took your hand. "Child, get up!" My mouth, I am sure, dropped open as you immediately got up. Jesus presented you to us saying, "Give her something to eat. And tell no one what happened." In the confusion that followed, Jesus left before I could thank him. I've heard that he is on his way to Jerusalem. I hope he will pass through again on his return trip, and we can see him again. I would like to thank him properly for giving you back to me.
So, my daughter, this is the story of how Jesus gave you a new life. When it was hopeless, he brought us hope. And every time I look at you I remember how he did more than what I asked - I asked for healing and he brought resurrection. I remember also the woman he healed in the crowd, and that her encounter was life-changing and I got to witness it. I suppose that I will see her in the temple courts now, and when I do, I will be reminded that his timing was perfect, even when I thought we needed to move faster. I pray that you will someday meet Jesus, and that meeting will once again change your life, even as it has changed mine today.
Shalom,
Papa
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