5/3 - Journey to the Cross - Mark 5:21-43

Some thoughts from our Zoom time this morning…

Reading this passage in the Gospel of Mark, one detail that stands out is the number twelve, which appears twice. The woman had been suffering from bleeding for twelve years, and the daughter of Jairus was twelve years old. Numbers in the Bible often carry meaning, and twelve frequently represents completeness or the people of God, such as the twelve tribes of Israel.

Could Mark be quietly signalling that this story is about the whole people of God?
Is this a picture of Jesus bringing restoration not just to individuals, but to Israel itself?

Both miracles in this passage centre on faith. Yet both people involved would likely have struggled to approach Jesus. The woman would have been considered ceremonially unclean because of her bleeding, meaning she lived with social and religious exclusion. Jairus, as a synagogue leader, held a respected religious position that might have made publicly seeking Jesus difficult or controversial. Despite these barriers, both come to Jesus in faith, showing that true faith often involves humility and courage.

What barriers might have stood in their way — shame, reputation, fear of criticism?
And what barriers might quietly stand in ours?
Where might Jesus be inviting us to take a step of humble courage?

The passage reminds us that faith is what Jesus asks of us. The woman believed that simply touching his clothes would be enough to heal her. Jairus continued to trust Jesus even after hearing the devastating news that his daughter had died. Jesus’ encouragement to Jairus not to fear but to believe shows that faith opens the way for God to do extraordinary things.

What does faith look like for us when circumstances seem final?
Where are we tempted to give up hope?
What might it mean to hear Jesus say to us, “Do not fear; only believe”?

What is particularly striking is the combination of complete power and deep tenderness in Jesus’ actions. The power of God working through him is so great that healing flows simply through the touch of his cloak, and even death itself cannot withstand his authority. Yet alongside this immense power is profound gentleness. Jesus calls the healed woman “daughter,” restoring her dignity and identity. When he raises the girl, he speaks softly to her with the words “Talitha koum”, meaning “Little girl, get up.” This moment reveals not only divine authority but also compassionate care.

How do we tend to picture Jesus — strong but distant, or gentle but weak?
What happens when we see that his power and tenderness belong together?
Where do we most need to know his gentle voice speaking into our lives?

The passage also highlights the desperation of people who come to Jesus. The woman had suffered for years and exhausted all other options, while Jairus was facing the possible loss of his child. Their desperation drove them to seek Jesus, and in response he meets them with patience and personal care, showing that no cry for help is too small or too desperate for him to notice.

When have we come to Jesus out of desperation rather than strength?
What might it look like to bring our need honestly before him now?

Another important theme is trusting in God’s timing. Jairus must have felt an intense urgency as he led Jesus toward his home, hoping his daughter would survive. Yet along the way Jesus stops to address the woman’s healing. From Jairus’ perspective this delay may have been agonising, especially when news arrives that his daughter has died. The story reminds us that God’s timing can feel confusing or slow, yet his power and purposes are never limited by human urgency.

Where in our lives does God seem slow?
What prayers feel delayed or unanswered?
Can we trust that even in the waiting, Jesus is not absent?

Throughout the passage there is also a strong physical element. The woman touches Jesus’ cloak, and Jesus takes the girl by the hand. These interactions make Jesus’ ministry feel very real and personal, showing that God’s compassion is not distant or abstract but expressed in physical presence and touch.

How might we become people who embody that same tangible compassion?
Who around us needs more than words — who needs presence?

Once again Jesus tells those present not to tell anyone what has happened. This recurring instruction in the Gospel reminds us that Jesus did not seek fame or recognition. His works were not meant for spectacle but were part of God’s unfolding plan, revealing who he was in the right time and way.

Are we drawn to recognition, or to obedience?
Do we seek the spotlight, or simple faithfulness?

Together these moments show a Jesus who is powerful yet gentle, attentive to human suffering, and responsive to simple faith.

The question that lingers is this:
Will we come to him — with courage, with honesty, and with trust?