Who is he? Encountering Jesus Through the Eyes of the Woman in Luke 8

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who is he?

The moments of that day still linger in my mind. Some memories find themselves woven into your senses.

At times, I catch myself pushing back tinges of fear as I watch my daughter rest. Is she only sleeping?

How did deep despair and overflowing hope meet in one day?

I can never forget watching my daughter’s life slip away before my eyes. And realizing I was helpless to stop it.

I had comforted friends in their grief after losing a child. My heart broke with theirs. They bore a pain that appeared inconsolable. At least by anything on this earth. I, too questioned how one walks forward when one’s reason for living is stripped away.

But the initial sting to my soul as I shared in their pain eventually diminished.

Until the day I watched my daughter’s life gradually flow out of her body. Her breathing labored; the tone of her skin fading. Watching your child suffer draws out a fierce desire for control that previously lied dormant.

How can a mother not save her own child?

News about her illness quickly spread. My friends sat with me as I had with others.

But it was different being on the other side.

We prayed for God to grant healing. People tried to sustain my body with food. But I couldn’t eat. Worry had consumed my appetite. My concern wasn’t for me. It was for her. I had never tasted desperation like this.

Someone save her!

In the midst of keeping watch over my daughter, the commotion outside caught my attention. As scheduled, Jesus had arrived in our town as was expected. But, in the midst of my crisis, I had forgotten about it. I wasn’t quite sure what I believed about his identity. However, stories of his healing touch were many. The timing was ironic. Perhaps he could do something. It appeared hope was out of our hands.

Jesus, save her!

Jairus quickly ran to find him. I was certain that Jairus’ position would assure a prompt response from Jesus.

But it didn’t. In fact, he didn’t come right away. And neither did Jairus.

Although my friends surrounded me, I felt abandoned. By my husband. By Jesus.

What was more important than healing a child?

My child took her last breath. While we waited.

The disappointment erupted out of my soul. I wailed. My body felt numb. I remember pinching myself to make sure this wasn’t a bad dream. The tears began welling; eventually flooding into a forceful stream down my face. A loud high pitched wail made its way up through my body and out my mouth.

Never had I felt such despair.

As the world appeared to spin around me, someone ran out to tell Jairus.

Finally, he entered. My mind struggled with what to do. Part of me wanted to collapse in his arms. Yet, I felt betrayed. I watched my child die without him.

But I paused when I realized he had not arrived alone. A few others accompanied him; including Jesus.

Did he not hear that our daughter had died?

I won’t lie. Anger began building in my heart as I spotted him. I felt betrayed. Why was our daughter not worthy of healing? What reason did he have for showing up after her death?

But then Jesus spoke. With an authority and a calmness I had not witnessed in anyone else.

Stop Wailing,” he commanded.

I did not understand. I just lost my daughter! We were grieving. Yet, his voice beckoned obedience.

He continued. “She is not dead. She is asleep.”

What?!

His words made no sense. How were we supposed to believe that she was only sleeping?

He walked over to her and took her hand. The same limp one I had held. And he commanded her to get up. I stared in amazement at what I witnessed. Her eyes opened, and she stood up!

Who is he?

I grabbed her hand. The one that had felt clammy and lacked any presence of life earlier. This time her fingers, warm with the blood pulsing through them, bent around mine. I watched her breathe; her chest rising up and down. My girl was alive!

How do you grasp that reality?

Jesus saved my child from death! I couldn’t wait to tell others what I witnessed.

However, Jesus quickly ordered us not to share.

It didn’t make sense.

But earlier he didn’t make sense either. Yet he spoke and acted with an authority that commanded trust. It was unlike anything I have seen from anyone on this earth.

Jesus didn’t just save my daughter. In a sense, he saved me as well.Who is he? 

This post is inspired by the account found in Luke 8:40-56.

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