He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? [Stop wailing,^LK] [Go away^MT] The child is not dead but asleep.” ⁴⁰But they laughed at him [knowing that she was dead.^LK]

In his Holy Sonnets, the 17th-century British poet John Donne reflects on the truths of the gospel and praise of God. The most famous of these sonnets is the tenth. It’s addressed to the grim reaper, death personified. It begins,

“Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.”

I invite you to have in your mind’s eye death personified. The Scriptures describe death as the last great foe of the human race and of the purpose of God. But death is not to be proud. There is One who is greater and mightier than this dread enemy.

Mark 5:35-43 is a story about a child who died. In it we’re going to hear another of the questions of Jesus that we’ve been tracking in this series. Jesus asked penetrating questions that not only were pertinent at the moment, but they have a way of helping us examine ourselves today.

There are all the elements of tragedy here.  It is always tragic when a child is ill.  The story tells us that the ruler’s daughter was twelve years of age.  According to the Jewish custom a girl became a woman at twelve years and one day.  This girl was just on the threshold of womanhood, and when death comes at such a time it is doubly tragic.

Let me begin by making some observations about death. Medical science is, of course, blurring the boundary between death and life with various advances. Sadly, medical science is also making human beings better at killing as well as extending life. Indeed the progress of medical science sometimes leads to absurdities.

However the boundary between life and death is blurred, it remains the case that we each face the certainty of our own death.

THE FINAL ENEMY

Psychologists have studied the process of grieving a death. When we get the news that someone we love has died or is going to die, or our own life is to be forfeit, there is a predictable grieving process. It begins with denial and shock, which are followed by anger, bargaining, guilt, depression, loneliness, and finally acceptance.

It is tragic that the process ends with acceptance, if all we have is the study of psychologists to go on, because what is accepted is that death always triumphs. Whatever anger, denial, or bargaining we engage in, they are like waves against a great rock that matter not at all. All of our emotional turmoil finally ends up with our having to bow before the final enemy and say, “You win.”

We’re going to see in the passage before us a way of mourning that existed in Palestine in the first century. Professional mourners would gather around and play flutes, wail, and act out a stylized sadness. This story, however, has something else to say about life and death. Let’s read Mark 5:35-43:

What about Jairus?

Mk 5:35-40a with Lk 8:49-53–³⁵While Jesus was still speaking, some men came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler. “Your daughter is dead,” they said. “Why [Don’t^LK] bother the teacher any more?” ³⁶Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, [and she will be healed.”^LK] ³⁷He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James [and] the child’s father and mother.^LK] ³⁸When they came to the home of the synagogue ruler, Jesus saw a commotion [and the flute players,^MT] with people crying and wailing loudly. ³⁹He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? [Stop wailing,^LK] [Go away^MT] The child is not dead but asleep.” ⁴⁰But they laughed at him [knowing that she was dead.^LK]

The story tells us something about this man who was the ruler of the synagogue.  He must have been a person of some considerable importance.  The ruler was the administrative head of the synagogue.  He was responsible for the conduct of the services.  He did not usually take part in them himself, but he was responsible for the allocation of duties and for seeing that they were carried out with all seemliness and good order.  The ruler of the synagogue was one of the most important and most respected men in the community.  But something happened to him when his daughter fell ill and he thought of Jesus.

(i)  His prejudices were forgotten.  There can be no doubt that he must have regarded Jesus as an outsider, as a dangerous heretic, as one to whom the synagogue doors were rightly closed, and one whom anyone who valued his orthodoxy would do well to avoid.  But he was a big enough man to abandon his prejudices in his hour of need.  Prejudice really means a judging beforehand.  It is a judging before a man has examined the evidence, or a verdict given because of refusal to examine it.  Few things have done more to hold things up than this.  Nearly every forward step has had to fight against initial prejudice.  When Sir James Simpson discovered its use as an anaesthetic, especially in the case of childbirth, chloroform was held to be, “a decoy of Satan, apparently opening itself to bless women, but in the end hardening them, and robbing God of the deep, earnest cries, that should arise to him in time of trouble.”  A prejudiced mind shuts out a man from many a blessing.

(ii)  His dignity was forgotten.  He, the ruler of the synagogue, came and threw himself at the feet of Jesus, the wandering teacher.  Not a few times a man has had to forget his dignity to save his life and to save his soul.

In the old story that is precisely what Naaman had to do (2 Kings 5).  He had come to Elisha to be cured of his leprosy.  Elisha’s prescription was that he should go and wash in the Jordan seven times.  That was no way to treat the Syrian Prime Minister!  Elisha had not even delivered the message personally; he had sent it by a messenger!  And, had they not far better rivers in Syria than the muddy little Jordan?  These were Naaman’s first thoughts; but he swallowed his pride and lost his leprosy.

There is a famous story of Diogenes, the Cynic philosopher.  He was captured by pirates and was being sold as a slave.  As he gazed at the bystanders who were bidding for him, he looked at a man.  “Sell me to that man,” he said.  “He needs a master.” The man bought him; handed over the management of his household and the education of his children to him.  “It was a good day for me,” he used to say, “when Diogenes entered my household.”  True, but that required an abrogation of dignity.

It frequently happens that a man stands on his dignity and falls from grace.

(iii)  His pride was forgotten.  It must have taken a conscious effort of humiliation for this ruler of the synagogue to come and ask for help from Jesus of Nazareth.  No one wishes to be indebted to anyone else; we would like to run life on our own.  The very first step of the Christian life is to realize that we cannot be anything other than indebted to God.

(iv)  Here we enter the realm of speculation, but it seems to me that we can say of this man that his friends were forgotten.  It may well be that, to the end, they objected to him calling in Jesus.  It is rather strange that he came himself and did not send a messenger.  It seems unlikely that he would consent to leave his daughter when she was on the point of death.  Maybe he came because no one else would go.  His household were suspiciously quick to tell him not to trouble Jesus any more.  It sounds almost as if they were glad not to call upon his help.  It may well be that this ruler defied public opinion and home advice in order to call in Jesus.  Many a man is wisest when his worldly-wise friends think he is acting like a fool.

Here was a man who forgot everything except that he wanted the help of Jesus; and because of that forgetfulness he would remember for ever that Jesus is a Savior.

It is beautiful to watch Jesus deal with Jairus and lead him to joyful victory. Throughout this entire event, it was our Lord’s words that made the difference.

The word of faith (v. 36).

At this point, Jairus had to believe either his friend or the Lord Jesus. No doubt all of his being responded with convulsive sorrow when he heard that his beloved daughter was dead. But Jesus assured him, “Be not afraid, go on believing” (literal translation). In other words, “You had a certain amount of faith when you came to Me, and your faith was helped when you saw what I did for that woman. Don’t quit! Keep on believing!”

It was easier for Jairus to trust the Lord while his daughter was still alive, and while Jesus was still walking with him to his house. But when Jesus stopped to heal the woman, and when the friend came with the bad news, Jairus just about lost his faith. Let’s not be too hard on him. We have probably given way to doubts when circumstances and feelings have overwhelmed us. Sometimes God has delayed and we have wondered why. That is when we need that special “word of faith” from the Lord, and we receive it as we spend time in His Word.

During this delay, Jairus is no doubt a bit antsy. His frustration is worsened by the tragic news that his daughter has just died. “Death” is placed at the very beginning of the Greek sentence for emphasis. It comes out something like this: “Your daughter is DEAD!”

The servants are concerned with Jesus as well as Jairus. They don’t want him needlessly bothered. But Jesus ignores their message. He quickly grabs Jairus’ attention and tries to refocus it from fear to faith. Mark makes it look like Jesus stops the crowd where they are and does not allow them to come to Jairus’ house. Luke probably expresses it more clearly when he says that Jesus only allows three apostles in the house (Peter, James and John), along with the child’s parents. These inner three are also given the exclusive privilege of seeing the transfiguration (Mt 17:1; Mk 9:2; Lk 9:28) and following Jesus into the garden of Gethsemane (Mt 26:37; Mk 14:33).

Jewish mourning customs were vivid and detailed, and practically all of them were designed to stress the desolation and the final separation of death.  The triumphant victorious hope of the Christian faith was totally absent.

Immediately death had taken place a loud wailing was set up so that all might know that death had struck.  The wailing was repeated at the grave side.  The mourners hung over the dead body, begging for a response from the silent lips.  They beat their breasts; they tore their hair; and they rent their garments.

Outside the house there is quite a commotion. According to Jewish burial rites, a crowd would gather and make a great deal of noise. Even poor families were required to hire at least two flute players and one mourner (m. Ketub. 4:4). The word “mourning” involves beating the chest as a sign of sorrow. It apparently takes Jesus and Jairus long enough to get there that a funeral crowd has already gathered.

The rending of gaments was done according to certain rules and regulations.  It was done just before the body was finally hid from sight.  Garments were to be rent to the heart, that is, until the skin was exposed, but were not to be rent beyond the navel.  For fathers and mothers the rent was on the left side, over the heart; for others it was on the right side.  A woman was to rend her garments in private; she was then to reverse the inner garment, so that it was worn back to front; she then rent her outer garment, so that her body was not exposed.  The rent garment was worn for thirty days.  After seven days the rent might be roughly sewn up, in such a way that it was still clearly visible.  After the thirty days the garment was properly repaired.

Flute-players were essential.  Throughout most of the ancient world, in Rome, in Greece, in Phoenicia, in Assyria and in Palestine, the wailing of the flute was inseparably connected with death and tragedy.  It was laid down that, however poor a man was, he must have at least two flute-players at his wife’s funeral.  W. Taylor Smith in Hastings’ Dictionary of Christ and the Gospels quotes two interesting instances of the use of flute-players, which show how widespread the custom was.  There were flute-players at the funeral of Claudius, the Roman Emperor.  When in A.D. 67 news reached Jerusalem of the fall of Jotapata to the Roman armies, Josephus tells us that “most people engaged flute-players to lead their lamentations.”

The wail of the flutes, the screams of the mourners, the passionate appeals to the dead, the rent garments, the torn hair, must have made a Jewish house a poignant and pathetic place on the day of mourning.

When death came, a mourner was forbidden to work, to anoint himself or to wear shoes.  Even the poorest man must cease from work for three days.  He must not travel with goods; and the prohibition of work extended even to his servants.  He must sit with head bound up.  He must not shave, or “do anything for his comfort.”  He must not read the Law or the Prophets, for to read these books is joy.  He was allowed to read Job, Jeremiah and Lamentations.  He must eat only in his own house, and he must abstain altogether from flesh and wine.  He must not leave the town or village for thirty days.  It was the custom not to eat at a table, but to eat sitting on the floor, using a chair as a table.  It was the custom, which still survives, to eat eggs dipped in ashes and salt.

The response of Jesus

Jesus tells them to stop mourning because she is not dead but only asleep. He used that same figure of speech to describe Lazarus (Jn 11:11; cf. Mt 27:52; Acts 13:36; 1 Cor 11:30; 15:20, 51; 1 Thess 4:14). The crowd, taking his words literally, laugh at him. They know when someone has died. They are not stupid, but they think Jesus is. Then again, Peter had just committed the same error when Jesus said, “Someone touched me.”

[Response of Jesus in John 11]

Jesus responded to death (or what death did to others) in John 11:33: “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”

The Greek language is vivid here: it’s from a word {embrimaomai: em-brim-ah’-om-ahee} that means “to snort with anger like a horse.” The presence of these Jews, the grief of Mary, Christ’s own concern, the problem of the raising of Lazarus—all greatly agitated the spirit of Jesus…He struggled for self-control.

The word of hope (v. 39).

 “The child is not dead but sleeps!” were our Lord’s words of hope to Jairus and his wife. To the believer, death is only sleep; for the body rests until the moment of resurrection (1 Thes. 4:13-18).

The spirit does not sleep; for in death, the spirit of the believer leaves the body (James 2:26) and goes to be with Christ (Phil. 1:20-23).

This truth is a great encouragement to all of us who have had Christian loved ones and friends depart in death. It is His word of hope to us.

Faith—Fear: fear is the opposite of belief. Believing God eliminates fear. Believing that God actually cares and will deliver one through any and all circumstances of life erases fear. If God does care, there is nothing to fear. However, if one does not believe that God cares, then fear is present. Why? Because there is no one beyond man to help, and man’s help is limited—very limited. There are many times in life when man’s help is not enough, or even close to being enough. Therefore for the unbelieving man, there are all kinds of things to fear: unfortunate circumstances, bad health, accident, loneliness, death, the loss of anything and everything—family, profession, friends, business, home.

The word of love and power (v. 41).

There is a very lovely thing here.  In the gospel itself, “Maid!  Arise” is “Talitha Cumi”, which is Aramaic.  How did this little bit of Aramaic get itself embedded in the Greek of the gospels?  There can be only one reason.  Mark got his information from Peter.  For the most part, outside of Palestine at least, Peter, too, would have to speak in Greek.  But Peter had been there; he was one of the chosen three, the inner circle, who had seen this happen.  And he could never forget Jesus’s voice.  In his mind and memory he could hear that “Talitha Cumi” all his life.  The love, the gentleness, the caress of it lingered with him forever, so much so that he was unable to think of it in Greek at all, because his memory could hear it only in the voice of Jesus and in the very words that Jesus spoke.

This passage is a story of contrasts.

(i)  There is the contrast between the despair of the mourners and the hope of Jesus.  “Don’t bother the Teacher,” they said.  “There’s nothing anyone can do now.”  “Don’t be afraid,” said Jesus, “only believe.”  In the one place it is the voice of despair that speaks; in the other the voice of hope.

(ii)  There is the contrast between the unrestrained distress of the mourners and the calm serenity of Jesus.  They were wailing and weeping and tearing their hair and rending their garments in a paroxysm of distress; he was calm and quiet and serene and in control.

Why this difference?  It was due to Jesus’ perfect confidence and trust in God.  The worst human disaster can be met with courage and gallantry when we meet it with God.  They laughed him to scorn because they thought his hope was groundless and his calm mistaken.  But the great fact of the Christian life is that what looks completely impossible with men is possible with God.  What on merely human grounds is far too good to be true, becomes blessedly true when God is there.  They laughed him to scorn, but their laughter must have turned to amazed wonder when they realized what God can do.  There is nothing beyond facing, and there is nothing beyond conquest-not even death-when it is faced and conquered in the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Unbelief laughs at God’s Word, but faith lays hold of it and experiences the power of God. Jesus did not make a spectacle of this miracle. He was sensitive to the feelings of the parents and grieved by the scornful attitude of the mourners. Talitha cumi is Aramaic for “Little girl, get up!” Jesus added, “I say unto thee” (with the emphasis on the I), because it was by His authority that her spirit returned to her body (Luke 8:55). The words were not some magic formula that anybody might use to raise the dead.

he girl not only came back to life, but was also healed of her sickness, for she was able to get out of bed and walk around. Always the loving Physician, Jesus instructed the astounded parents to give her some food lest she have a relapse. Divine miracles never replace commonsense human care; otherwise, we are tempting God.

As with previous miracles, Jesus told the witnesses to keep quiet (Mark 1:44; 3:12). Perhaps the word got out from the mourners that the girl had been “in a coma” and had not actually been dead. According to them, there had not been a miracle after all! However, there had been witnesses to the miracle. The Law required only two or three witnesses for confirmation of truth (Deut. 17:6; 19:15), but for this miracle there were five witnesses! We have reason to conclude that Jairus and his wife became believers in Jesus Christ, though there is no further mention of them in the Gospel record. All her life, the daughter was a witness to the power of Jesus Christ.

He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James. When they came to the home of the synagogue ruler, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep.” But they laughed at him.

Mk 5:40b-43 with Lk 8:54-56–After he put them all out, he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. ⁴¹He took her by the hand and said to her, “ Talitha koum!” (which means, “Little girl [my child^LK], I say to you, get up!”). ⁴²[Her spirit returned, and^LK] Immediately the girl stood up and walked around (she was twelve years old). At this they [her parents^LK] were completely astonished. ⁴³He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat ²⁶News of this spread through all that region.

When Jesus raises this little girl from the dead she is completely restored. She does not just “wake up;” she gets up and starts walking around. Furthermore, Jesus tells her parents to get her something to eat. (She must have been a typical teenager).

It is also curious that Jesus commands the parents not to tell anyone about the miracle. If Jesus ever said anything unreasonable, this was it! The crowd already knows that she is dead. It would be pretty difficult to conceal her once she is revived. Likely what Jesus means is to conceal the details of the raising. In other words, don’t talk about how Jesus did it. We can understand why. The crowds are already oppressive. The Gerasene demoniac was commanded to go tell what had happened since that country needed to develop faith.

This place is bursting with faith, curiosity, and crowds. Jesus does not need any more publicity here! In fact, in the very next chapter (Lk 9:7-9) Jesus’ reputation as a miracle worker is going to lead to an official inquiry by Herod.

All this attention would lead to a premature announcement and incomplete understanding of his Messiahship. The crowds have already been told that she was only sleeping. They may accept this as a resuscitation from a coma. This would still be considered a wonderful miracle but not quite as phenomenal as raising her from the dead. Despite Jesus’ attempt to “play down” this miracle, news of it spreads like wildfire.

After he put them all out, he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which means, “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”) Immediately the girl stood up and walked around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished. He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat.

WHAT VOICE WILL WE LISTEN TO?

Yes, God’s Servant is the conqueror over danger, demons, disease, and death. This series of miracles illustrates how Jesus met and helped all kinds of people, from His own disciples to a pair of demoniacs; and it assures us that He is able to help us today.

This does not mean that God always must rescue His people from danger (see Acts 12) or heal every affliction (see 2 Cor. 12:1-10); but it does mean that He holds the ultimate authority and that we need never fear. We are “more than conquerors through Him who loved us” (Rom. 8:37).

Jesus’ question was directed to the mourners, not the other people in this story-his disciples and the grieving family. The role of mourners was to insist that everyone pay homage to the facts: Death had won again. A beautiful little girl’s life was forfeit, and they all had to bow before reality. The final enemy had claimed another victim. But Jesus challenged the mourners.

The question he asked the mourners is more obscure than the other questions we’ve looked at in this series  “Why all this commotion and wailing?” In that culture there were no telephones, email, or other ways of getting the word out. When someone died, professional mourners would gather and a wail would start. They probably had been standing by, since this was a prominent man and his daughter had been sick. As soon as she died, they would have started playing the instruments, crying aloud, throwing dust in the air, and tearing their clothing. Thus word would begin to spread that the child had died.

We see a tension beginning in verse 35 when some men from among these mourners came from the house and said very matter-of-factly to the synagogue ruler, “Your daughter is dead. Why bother the teacher anymore?” That is, “Let’s face this terrible reality. Jesus has nothing left to say. Leave behind the rabbi and his religious instruction. It’s all useless in the face of death. Maybe the spokesmen for God have something to say when there is still reason to hope, but there is no reason to hope. The child is dead.” Jesus deliberately ignored them and challenged what they said. He turned to the heartbroken father and urged him to believe rather than despair.

So the tension is, Who are we going to listen to-the voice that is announcing the victory of the grim reaper, insisting that we bow before him; or the voice of Someone else who says, “Don’t be afraid; rather, believe”?

Let me clarify that the issue here is not grief. Grief in the face of death is always appropriate. Sorrow, confusion, numbness of heart and mind, questioning, loneliness-none of the emotions that go with losing someone you love were in view when Jesus challenged these professional mourners.

n 1 Thessalonians 4:13 Paul writes, “Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.”

The statement there is not, “Don’t grieve.” Paul’s point is that you should not grieve hopelessly. Jesus, you remember, cried at the tomb of Lazarus. Even knowing that Lazarus would be given life again for some years to follow, Jesus wept. He wept for the loneliness that people experience when a beloved one is taken. But the calling for Christians is not to break down in the face of the final enemy’s awful death’s-head smile and his claim, “I win.” The challenge of faith is to acknowledge our hurt, but not give way to hopelessness.

THE TENDERNESS AND THE SEVERITY OF JESUS

This is the second of three raisings Jesus performed. The first was the widow’s son at Nain (Lk 7:11ff). The third will be Jesus’ personal friend Lazarus, in Bethany (Jn 11). Like his OT counterparts, Elijah and Elisha (cf. 1 Kgs 17:20-24; 2 Kgs 4:17-37), the power of God flowed through Jesus even to raise the dead.

There are two ways I’m going to ask you to look at the ministry of Jesus in this story. One is the tenderness with which he cares for the family, and the other is the severity with which he treats the mourners. Both of them show us something important to believe about him.

Let’s consider the kindness of the Lord. He was tender with this father who had just heard that his child had died. The father’s heart must have sunk like a stone. He had hoped that Jesus would get there before the child died. Now it was too late. The man didn’t see any miracle to believe in, only the word of the Lord. “Trust me; I have something left for you. This is not the end of the story.”

We see the kindness and gentleness of the Lord in the room where the little girl lay on her bed deceased. He took her by the hand. I’ve mentioned before how easily Jesus ignored all the laws of ritual cleanness. Touching a dead body would have rendered him unclean. But of course this body was not going to stay dead for long. Then he used a wonderful phrase in Aramaic, the language of the household, of the townspeople, not the language of commerce and the wider world. As Peter told Mark this story, and it was recalled by the disciples, they couldn’t help but repeat the phrase Jesus used because it was so touching: “Talitha koum!”-“Dear little girl, get up!”

Commentators have made some wonderful observations about this phrase. This child had probably heard the phrase, “Little girl, get up!” scores of times in her life. When she was just learning to walk as a toddler, stumbling and falling to the ground, her parents would reach down and say, “Dear little one, get up!” as they helped her up. And as a youngster she would sometimes want to stay in bed when she should have been up doing something else, and her parents would lovingly say, “Dear little one, get up!” People who loved her would have often said, “Talitha koum!” So when Jesus touched her and spoke these words to her, they were the tender words that someone who cared for her would say.

The last observation we can make about Jesus’ tender care for these people is that it was he who was sensitive enough to ask that she be given something to eat. This child had been sick for some time and had probably not been able to get nourishment regularly. She would have needed something to eat. Everyone else was so shocked by what happened that they didn’t even think about it. But the Lord stayed tenderly focused on her needs.

All of this is to make a point. When we are in extreme situations, when death itself threatens and all seems lost, when we seem gripped by the power of the final enemy to destroy and blight our existence, when we find ourselves desperate and falling and hopeless, there is wonderful theology that can be brought to bear: the great themes of heaven, eternal life, the victory gained when Jesus was raised from the dead, and so on. But it’s also important to have the tender touch, the intimacy of Jesus, knowing that he is with us even though we’re going through “the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4). We can call on Someone who is present, strong, caring, and understanding, and who even remembers that we need something to eat.

The other ministry of Jesus in this text is his challenge to the mourners. I don’t think he had any particular grievance with them as individuals, but he was denying the role they were playing in the drama, urging acceptance of the loss of everything. They were advocating a kind of emotional acquiescence that says, “There’s no reason to appeal to God or those who teach in his name. It’s time for us to do the hard work of giving death its due.” In that sense Jesus refused them. He ignored them, he challenged them, they in turn ridiculed him, and he subsequently threw them out.

We need to see the Lord here as directly opposing proud death, personified for us in John Donne’s sonnet. Almost always in Scripture when there is a crisis moment, it takes place in a face-to-face confrontation between the champion of heaven and the destroyer with his lies. It happened in the Garden when Eve was faced with the tempter and she and then Adam fell before his persuasion (Genesis 3). Jesus stood face-to-face with that same tempter in the wilderness immediately after he was baptized (Matthew 4:1-11; Mark 1:13; Luke 4:1-13).

 

God commanded Moses to go into Pharaoh’s court and stand by himself with only his brother as his second in the duel, facing the power of Egypt and the authority of Pharaoh. It happened when a shepherd boy named David took only five stones and a sling out to face the giant on a plain between the Israelite and Philistine armies (1 Samuel 17). The champion of heaven had to stand there against the reviler. It happened when Elijah stood on Mount Carmel by himself against four hundred priests of Baal. (1 Kings 18). Elijah was the champion of heaven, telling the truth into the darkness.

That is the way Jesus is presented in this story. He was throwing down a gauntlet, saying, “Proud death, I’m coming for you. There is going to come a day on a hill outside Jerusalem not many months from now when we’re going to fight to the end. And I want you to know right now I’m giving life back to a beloved child for a family of people I care about, and I’m doing it deliberately to say, ‘You don’t win.’ The end of the story is not death. The final enemy is not the champion.”

“DON’T BE AFRAID; JUST BELIEVE”

Jesus made two statements in this text that we can benefit from practically. The first is in verse 36. Jesus’ word to the father was, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” The writer of Hebrews makes an interesting point about the fear of death: “Since the children have flesh and blood, [Christ] too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death-that is, the devil-and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Hebrews 2:14-15).

When we assume that the grim reaper stands at the end of every life claiming it, destroying all that has gone before, when there is no reason for hope, then we live in fear of the end. It casts a terrible shadow backward from our future to our present. We’re afraid that the love we experience, the friendships we have, our accomplishments will be lost and forgotten someday, and the bodies that serve us now will decay and will grow less and less useful to us. So we become willing to do anything, to listen to any kind of lie or foolishness that will numb the fear of the death that awaits us. Our enemy uses our fear to ruin us even further.

When we have One who is greater than death on our side, when we don’t have to fear what’s before us, when we know for sure that all the best things that have ever happened in our life are going to last forever, that the love relationships we have in Christ go on and on, that nothing of eternal consequence is ever lost to us, then instead of living in fear, we can live in confidence. When we see things begin to break down and we realize we’re nearer the day that we’ll be with the Lord, we can be optimistic and hopeful instead of afraid.

One of the subplots in Walt Disney’s version of Peter Pan is of Captain Hook and the crocodile. At some point in his life, Captain Hook’s hand was bitten off by a crocodile, and the crocodile liked the taste of it so much that he spent the rest of his life pursuing Captain Hook, wanting to eat the rest of him. Now, the crocodile had also swallowed an alarm clock, and he made a ticking noise everywhere he went. And at various points in the story, Captain Hook would hear a ticking noise, and it would terrify him. He would run scared and lose his bearings because the ticking noise always meant that the crocodile that was going to destroy his life was nearby.

That is the way the fear of death operates in us. Something reminds us that the “crocodile” is going to “eat” us someday, and we act foolishly. Instead of being firm, steady, and confident in the Lord, we find ourselves willing to do terrible, destructive, embarrassing things.

Jesus’ word to the father is also a wonderful word to us: “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” There’s a champion fighting for us who is greater than the enemy who wants to destroy us.

“THE CHILD IS NOT DEAD BUT ASLEEP”

The other statement to note is in verse 39: “The child is not dead but asleep.” Now, she was dead. It wasn’t as if this child was just in a deep coma (which Jesus knew but no one else did) and he was going to revive her. The word “slumber” or “sleep” is used this way many times in the Bible. We read it in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 earlier. Jesus also used it of Lazarus (John 11:11).

Jesus said the child was asleep as a direct contradiction to the mourners who came in verse 35 and said, “Your child is dead, forget the rabbi.” The story would have a future. This little girl was going to be given back her life.

Believing people can and should use the term “sleep” to talk about brothers and sisters who have died. If they are asleep, they can wake up. They have not expired. We are merely deprived of their company temporarily. Jesus’ language of death clearly implied, even demanded, a day to come when the dead will awaken, and everything will be made new. Jesus was urging his people who love him to believe that he would triumph, not the Grim Reaper.

How Faith Faces Death

Faith is needed in all the circumstances in life, but it is never needed more than in the face of death. I would like to remind you of four words from the Word of God which describe the relationship of faith and death.

These words are the source of true comfort, hope, and joy, in the face of death. They are words which are offered to all men, but which are experienced only by those who have come to faith in Jesus Christ.

1. Faith Faces Death Squarely

Hebrews chapter 11 has often been referred to as the “Hall of Faith”. It is a summary of the faith of many of the characters described in the Old Testament. While we find the word “faith” frequently in chapter 11, there is another word (or concept) which is found alongside of faith–it is death.

While every one of these members of the “Hall of Faith” had faith, every one of them died without receiving the promises which they believed and acted upon in their lives.

We see, then, that biblical faith is that faith which faces death squarely, indeed, which looks beyond death. If men can say, “Where there’s life, there’s hope”, the man or woman of faith can say, “Where there is death, there is hope”, for faith is the basis for hope beyond death.

2. Faith Takes Death Seriously

Faith does not deal with death by minimizing it, it deals with sin as a most serious matter. Death is serious because it is the penalty which God has pronounced on sin.

Death is serious because it is a certainty for all men. Death is to be taken seriously because, as God says, “It is appointed unto men once to die, and after ther comes judgment” (Hebrews 9:27).

Jesus took His own death seriously as well, as can be seen from His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. Death must be taken seriously, for it is the unavoidable consequence of sin.

3. Faith Enables the Christian to be Comforted, even to Worship God, When a Loved One Has Died

In the first chapter of the Book of Job, we are told of the tragic death of Job’s children (Job 1:18-22). Job was a man of faith. He did not merely accept the news of her children’s death, he fell to the ground in worship.  What was it that enabled Job to worship, when all of her children died tragically, and (from a human point of view) prematurely?

Job’s faith was evidenced in three ways.

1. Job had faith in the power of God.

Job believed in God’s sovereignty, in the fact that God was in control. Thus, he did not view the death of her children as a natural disaster (though, in a sense, it was), but as an act of God. He said, “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD” (1:20).

Job knew that his children were not his, ultimately, but God’s. He knew that just as God had given her children life, God had also taken it away. To Job, it was not “their time”, it was “God’s time”. God was in control, specifically in the manner and timing of the death of her family. Thus, Job could worship.

1. Job had faith in His person.

Job’s faith was rooted in the character of God. God was both powerful and good. Job, we are told, “did not sin nor did he blame God” (1:22). He did not see God as being in any way “at fault”, as doing wrong in the death of His children. He was a God whom Job trusted. Thus he worshipped him, even in this time of tragedy.

1. Job was willing to trust God in the death of her children, even though he did not understand it.

Job knew that God was good, and that God had taken his children in death. Job did not know why. And it would seem that his faith was such that he did not need to know why, at least not then. Time will sometimes reveal those reasons, but it is often only in eternity that they will be known. Faith finds comfort in the power, in the goodness, and in the purposes of God, even though we do not understand them at the moment.

4. Faith Views Death Through the Person and Work of Jesus Christ

Part of the reason why death is so difficult for men is because they fear death. The writer to the Hebrews speaks of the incarnation and death of Jesus Christ was in order that He “might deliver those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives” (Hebrews 2:15).

Christians no longer fear death because of their faith in Jesus Christ. He came to die in the sinner’s place, to bear the penalty of death.

He not only suffered God’s wrath, He was raised from the dead, so that death no longer reigns over the Christian.

Death is a defeated foe. Death holds no fear for those who have faith in Christ.

“Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.”

 

The people we love who are in Christ and who are no longer with us, will be with us again. Jesus said in John 14:2-3, “…I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

The condition of heaven is that we’ll be together forever. We grieve because everyone must grieve when their heart is broken, but we don’t have to grieve as hopeless people. We can be filled with confidence that heaven’s Champion won the greatest of all the confrontations.

Jesus gave his life and was raised from the dead. Life wins and death loses. That changes everything, not only about the people we love who have died, because we know we’ll be with them again, but about how we live our own life now. We don’t live fearfully. We have the option of living confidently, aggressively, hopefully, optimistically, enthusiastically, waiting for the day, excited about life to the very end when we fall asleep, knowing that we will wake again.

John Donne’s sonnet ends with these lines:

“Death thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.”

Below are some of the very last words of Scripture we have about the human condition in the future that will last forever. The apostle John ends his Revelation with a description of the new heavens and new earth, when, having awakened forever, we participate in the re-creation of everything, and life that is forever begins.