Then he took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum” (which is translated, “Little girl, I say to you, get up”). Immediately the girl got up and began to walk. (She was twelve years old.) At this they were utterly astounded. Mark 5:41–42
In October 1974 our second child was about to be born. My late wife Bobbie’s pregnancy seemed similar to her first. Folks had assured her that the second pregnancy and delivery would be easier than the first. Do not buy used cars or oceanfront property in Arizona from these people.
Not only was Julie more than two weeks late coming into this world, but the first few years of her life were an avalanche of specialists looking for the diagnosis and prognosis for her physical complications. Visits to neurologists, orthopedic specialists, and pediatricians filled our young family’s calendar.
In all our calls to these medical experts, we were looking for one thing: hope. We desperately wanted someone to tell us that Julie would walk and that her mind would be sound. Bobbie faced all this much better than I did. This twenty-something father spent many hours staring into the darkness of midnight visits to the living room, many hours weeping. For a little girl’s daddy, this was the toughest challenge I had ever faced. I didn’t know what was going to happen to my daughter, and I was fiercely afraid.
To our amazement and gratitude, Julie walked on schedule. And each of her men- tal facilities was perfectly normal. But I have never forgotten the feeling of a dad’s heartache over the pain of his little girl.
One day a synagogue ruler named Jairus searched desperately for Jesus, who was busy speaking to a large crowd. Far more urgent than my personal struggle with our daughter’s physical complications, this daddy’s girl was dying. Jairus struck out to find Jesus. And when he did, he fell at Jesus’s feet, pleading earnestly for help. Before Jesus could respond, some of the ruler’s friends ran and told him not to bother Jesus now. His daughter was dead. Jairus was smitten with grief.
Because you have read the whole story, you know that it has a happy ending. Jesus visited the young girl’s bedroom, and with her dad and mother present, He took her cold hand in His. “Little girl, I say to you, get up” (v. 41), Jesus commanded. The people in the room were astonished by His boldness. “Immediately” the girl stood, walked around, and then had a snack (vv. 42–43).
But go back to Jesus’s words to Jairus upon hearing that his daughter had died. He didn’t say anything about the daughter. His first words were not a reassurance that the child was going to be all right. No, instead Jesus looked at this heartbroken daddy and offered him the most incredible advice ever: “Don’t be afraid. Only believe” (v. 36). Why? Because, as He does every time, Jesus had it all under control.
Being a dad just might be the most fearful assignment on earth. From the time our children are born, we turn them loose in a hostile world. Germs, sharp objects, and the neighborhood dogs threaten their safety. And as they grow, it gets worse. The dangers become even more potentially perilous.
Jesus has some sound advice for us hand-wringing fathers. He has a bit of solace as we contemplate sending our children into this adversarial environment. “Don’t be afraid. Only believe.” Why? Because Jesus has it all under control. Thank You, heavenly Father. I needed that right now.