"He's alive."
"The child is not dead but asleep," Jesus said in Mark 5 as people were mocking him for believing a synagogue's daughter was alive when they just proclaimed her dead.
"Don't be afraid; she will be healed," Jesus tells this leader, Jairus, in Luke 8:50.
My son literally looks like a zombie in the mornings. I've taken photos of him with his head hanging low, eyes closed and mouth welcoming flies. He'll say he is awake if you question him.
Doctors have diagnosed him a "spectrum" kid as early as age 4 but now he is a teen in full blown hormone insanity. As much as I want to believe rebellion, cluelessness and inability to make decisions is a natural part of adolescence, I know this is the kid who was ALIVE in faith. He would meditate for hours at an adoration session and encourage adults with words from the Bible.
Now he is wandering the neighborhood like Night of the Living Dead running on impulse. You never know if he is going to get on the bus coming home. High school brings such freedom like friends who drive, friends who walk and after school clubs. No one goes home anymore but I'm the parent crazy enough to call cops, search the neighborhood and panic.
I'm on my knees, like Jairus, fallen at Jesus feet, pleading for Him to come to my house. No wonder this leader's story is at the same time another woman physically does just that. She has been a bleeding outcast for 12 years but finds herself in one of the crowds waiting to see Jesus.
I imagine me like her, low crawling like the best soldier out there. My face is trampled and body is bruised by the fast-paced feet of bodies towering over me who full of their concerns they want to address to the Healer. Sand is inadvertently kicked into my eyes. I can't see in the whirlwind around me but I know if I just get to Jesus I can be free. Finally one dirt and blood crusted finger nail reaches His hem.
Two things happen; Jesus knows power went out of him and the woman was healed immediately.
A "suddenly" will come to my son and calm this storm. Meantime, I'm stretching out my arms in praise desperately holding on to promises God will redeem. I must have an eternal perspective of this storm or I can lose my footing in this fast-moving train around me.
Although it is loud, I hear God whisper over my son.
"Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." (Eph 5:14)
I'm sure I'll be clapping like thunder that accompanies God's lightning mad with joyful noise the day I see my son slowly drift up into a firm stance as a man of GOD.
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