Layers

And one of the synagogue officials named Jairus came up, and on seeing Him, fell at His feet and pleaded with Him earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is at the point of death; please come, that by coming, You may lay Your hands on her, so that she will be saved and live.” And He went off with him; and a large crowd was following Him and pressing in on Him.

While He was still speaking, they came from the house of the synagogue official, saying, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the Teacher anymore?” But Jesus, overhearing what had been spoken, said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid, only believe.” And He allowed no one to accompany Him, except Peter and James and John the brother of James. And they came to the house of the synagogue official; and He saw a commotion, and people loudly crying and wailing. And entering in, He said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and crying? The child has not died, but is asleep.” And they began laughing at Him. But putting them all out, He took along the child’s father and mother and His own companions, and entered the room where the child was. And taking the child by the hand, He said to her, “Talitha kum!” (which translated means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!”). And immediately the little girl stood up and began to walk, for she was twelve years old. And immediately they were completely astounded. And He gave them strict orders that no one should know about this, and He said that some food should be given to her to eat.

Mark 5:22-24, 35-43

Did you see it?

The wall in my bedroom isn’t painted very well. It’s obvious that someone rolled on a dusty rose color, but I can also see through that layer of paint to an underlying cream color. I have to take a moment and really look at it, but it’s there. Two distinct, yet bonded, layers of paint.

Do you see the two layers to this story? Take a moment. Really look at it.

There’s the obvious top layer:

Here is a daddy who loves his little girl. She’s dying. He’s in anguish.

Here is a Savior who has compassion on both father and daughter. He raises her back to life, and there is great rejoicing in their home.

Jesus, our Messiah, has the power to heal. Power over death. He is exactly who He claims to be: God in human flesh.

But look more closely. Do you see it?

This isn’t just a story about a nameless little girl in first century Israel. It’s about us and the strikingly beautiful story of salvation.

Here is a little girl. Not a son, so highly prized among the Israelites in that day and age, but a daughter. Virtually valueless, except to her father.

There was nothing intrinsically worthy in her to earn Christ’s favor or attention. She had no wealth, no position, no power, nothing to offer anyone. And on top of that, she was dead.

But her father loved her for no other reason than that she was his, and he was willing to lay down everything he had to save her. He sacrificed his dignity. He risked His reputation and laid aside His position of authority. All for the love of this child—a child whose past had offered him nothing but childishness and disobedience. A child whose future promised the same.

Do you see it?

We are that little girl. Valueless. Unworthy. Childish. Disobedient. Dead.

And for no other reason than our Father’s love for us, Christ comes to us when we cannot come to Him, and raises us from the dead.

And you were dead in your transgressions and sins… But God, being rich in mercy because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

Ephesians 2:1, 4-7