But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. 1 Thessalonians 4:13, NKJV

Last week was an emotionally heavy week for a lot of us.  Personally, the sting of death saddened my heart in more ways than one.  The day after our news feeds informed us of stories of tragic violence in America and also right here in Colorado, I came across a shocking social media post from one of my former youth ministry kids from days gone by -- his wife suddenly passed away, leaving behind four of their own young children.  Death is never a welcomed guest.  It leaves an emptiness at the table, an ache in the heart, and a silence that cannot be filled.

Yet into that sorrowful reality, the gospel dares to speak a brighter word: because of Jesus, death does not have the final say.  The Bible does not promise a world absent of death on this side of the Garden of Eden, but it does hold out a living hope that allows us to endure life's sorrow in a way that's distinct from the sorrow we feel in a world without Jesus.  

But what does that look like?  How do we sorrow hopefully?  How do we grieve while sustained by God's grace?  There are several instances in the Gospels in which Jesus interacts with those who are grieving the loss of loved ones, and each story distinctly reveals a unique answer to these heart questions.  If you find yourself in the valley of the shadow of death, I invite you to meditate on all those stories and allow God to minister to your aching heart through them.  But in this post, we'll just focus on Jesus' encounter with Jairus whose daughter suddenly succumbed to a fatal illness.

FEAR NOT, BELIEVE LOTS

While He was still speaking, some came from the ruler of the synagogue’s house who said, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?”

As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, He said to the ruler of the synagogue, “Do not be afraid; only believe.” Mark 5:35-36, NKJV

Just moments before this, Jairus was filled with hope because Jesus was on the way to heal his sick daughter.  But a messenger's words shatter his dreams with a statement of finality and a question of futility.  Death makes us feel like everything is over with, the case is closed.  And if that's so, our hearts naturally wonder what good it will do to "trouble" or bother Jesus any more with what feels so final?  While this may all sound like a reasonable train of thought -- maybe even a humble and submissive one -- it's not the path Jesus wants us to take when sorrow seizes our soul.  Jesus immediately rebuffs the messenger's sentiment "as soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken" with two imperatives:

• Don't be afraid.
• Only believe.

The message of finality and futility stirred fear in Jairus' heart about a future without his daughter, fear of his inability to hold himself together as a spiritual leader in his home and community, fear that maybe Jesus doesn't want to be bothered to meet him in his sorrow or that Jesus wasn't Someone to lean on after all.  

Are those fears familiar?  If so, I hope we'll hear Jesus' two commands.  In our seasons of loss, God invites us to pause and put a finger on our fears, the questions and anxieties that could very well swell up and swallow our entire outlook.  But then He invites us to choose faith, choose trust, choose belief because all those fears are founded on unbelief and a misapprehension of Jesus.  We can trust that Jesus is more than just a Teacher as the Jairus' messenger suggested; He's the Resurrection and the Life (Jn. 11:25) for whom nothing is impossible!  And we can trust that Jesus is not troubled by our trouble, He's not bothered by our burdens.  In our seasons of sorrow, let's remember who Jesus truly is to us and His tender heart toward us.  "Don't be afraid; only believe."

PUT THEM ALL OUTSIDE

When He came in, He said to them, “Why make this commotion and weep? The child is not dead, but sleeping.”

And they ridiculed Him. But when He had put them all outside, He took the father and the mother of the child, and those who were with Him, and entered where the child was lying.  Mark 5:39-40, NKJV

I don't think Jesus is advocating for a stoicism or apathetic response to the passing of loved ones.  Like Paul in 1 Thessalonians 4:13, Jesus does not forbid grief. Tears most definitely have their place, which is why we see Jesus actually weeping with Mary outside the tomb of Lazarus in John 11:35. What Jesus challenges here at the home of Jairus is a kind of sorrow that's fixated on the loss itself without any consideration of the God who extends hope.  He doesn't want us to sorrow "as those who have no hope" (1 Thes. 4:13).  That hopeless grief -- the kind that sees only the grave and nothing beyond -- is what Jesus puts "outside" of Jairus' house (v. 40) and what Jesus wants us to have the courage to distance ourselves from too. In Christ, the grave is not the end, and death is really a sleep that Jesus can wake us up from!  When we find ourselves grieving loss, let's have the courage to identify the voices whose volume needs to be turned down and sent out -- grievances without grace, hurts that haven't healed, things that leave no room for God's presence and promise in the midst of our sorrow.  Again, not that we stuff our tears, but that we put outside all that inhibits us from experiencing God's indwelling presence.  

ARISE

Then He took the child by the hand, and said to her, “Talitha, cumi,” which is translated, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” Immediately the girl arose and walked... Mark 5:41-42, NKJV

I know these verses describe the physical resurrection of Jairus' daughter, but I can't help but see here a description of what Jesus did to revive Jairus' hope and what Jesus does to resuscitate every sorrowing heart.  I love this picture of Jesus taking us by His life-giving hand and speaking over us His life-giving Word. When we walk through the valley of death's shadow, God's hand reminds us that even there He is with us to lead us and hold us close (Ps. 139:10), and God's voice revives in us the capacity to arise from our emotional paralysis.  

When we feel stuck in sadness, when we feel distant from our former joy or sense of support, let's look to the One who takes us by the hand and calls us to arise.

He's offering that today and everyday.  And eventually, ultimately, He'll offer that on the great resurrection morning too when Jesus returns and calls all who are His to arise from their sleep.  In that moment when our mortal puts on immortality and death is swallowed up in victory, we'll sing a song of triumph:  "O Death, where is your sting?  O Hades, where is your victory?" (1 Cor. 15:55)!  It's my prayer that as we look forward to that great day, we'll take hold of the One who takes hold of us and arise in present victory knowing that our future triumph is secure.