Snapshot
👀: Original post.
My Dear Friend
Two very different needy people anxiously awaited Jesus' arrival by boat in Capernaum (Mark 5:21-43). Noting this, Warren Wiersbe stated, “Jairus was an important synagogue officer, and the woman was an anonymous ‘nobody’; yet Jesus welcomed and helped both of them.” His point is well made.
Indeed, as a “ruler of the synagogue,” Jairus was respected, influential, and honored wherever he went. But this woman, who had suffered continuously for twelve years from a menstrual hemorrhage, and had spent all she had on many physicians without being healed, was at the opposite end of Israel’s cultural spectrum.
She was a social and religious outcast, beyond medical help, financially broken, and without husband, children, or congregational fellowship, and probably misjudged daily by self-righteous Jews who suspected God was punishing her for her sins! Yet, amazingly, Jesus ministered healing to this woman, and also resuscitation to Jairus' daughter, with equal compassion and respect. I love this! How beautifully unlike us Jesus is.
We are so deeply infected with “the pride of life” (1 John 2:16) that we are easily impressed with people bearing the marks of worldly greatness - an elite education, high office, great wealth, commercial success, vast popularity, athletic prowess, dramatic ability, musical gifts, and so forth - and often approach them with great contemplation, trepidation, and veneration. Why? They’re somebody. And we must be very careful how we handle them.
Simultaneously, we are so easily dismissive and disrespectful of those bearing the marks of worldly insignificance - the very poor, the weak or handicapped, convicted criminals, those lacking higher education, those who have failed in their trade or profession, the ungifted, or others lacking achievements or accolades - and overlook or insult them, and send them away without help. Without a kind word. And without even a twinge of guilt. Why? They’re nobody. So, they are unworthy of our attention.
If Jairus had come into our church, we would have given him immediate recognition, effusive compliments, and patient, tender ministry. James perfectly describes this hypocrisy in his stinging rebuke of social prejudice and favoritism (James 2:1-13). But if this poor, hemorrhaging woman had dared to approach us, we would have promptly sent her away with a glare and a rebuke - and possibly a “prophetic word” justifying our callousness - long before she could have gotten close enough to touch the hems of our pharisaical garments. (Okay, I’m being a little severe, but you get the point.)
Or, if we are more “progressive” Christians, we would have done the reverse. We would have ministered to the woman’s need because she was - and truly, she was! - a “disadvantaged person.” And Jairus? We would have dismissed him instantly as a rich and powerful male - the very worst of the worst homo-sapiens, deeply and incorrigibly infected with all kinds of congenital biases, and irremediably guilty by association with the past sins of his privileged fathers - and smugly sent him away. Without any help. Without a kind word. Without considering his character. And without the faintest twinge of doubt or guilt. Why?
“He’s a ruler. He’s affluent. He’s a man. So, he’s a bad person. Let his daughter die,” some would say, “it’s Yahweh’s judgment anyway, because he hasn’t redistributed all his wealth to the poor, or supported women’s ‘health’ rights, or made reparations or given land to the Samaritan refugees.”
But Jesus paid no attention to the political, ideological, academic, or social trends of His day, nor does He to those of our day. (See Exodus 23:3, 6-9; Leviticus 19:15; Deuteronomy 1:16-17.) He was beautifully unfazed by all of it, or any other kind of unreasonable human reason, nonsensical common sense, or unjust social justice. He just saw two fallen, suffering, desperately needy children of Adam, and ministered to the needs of each with exactly the same compassion. Why? He was void of favoritism, both the usual and reverse kind.
And so is any man or woman who has received His life and Spirit, fed on His illuminating Word, sat submissively at His feet, pondered His perfectly fair judgments (John 8:11), soaked in His supernatural, transformative presence, and who is, with full surrender, letting Him have His way. Such Christlike Christians will treasure a person because he or she is a person, made in the image of God, beloved by God, purchased by Jesus' death and blood on the cross, of great value potentially to our King and His kingdom, and passionately dear to the Father’s heart. And they will allow no other demographic distinctives to color their thoughts or guide their actions.
And so, with this spiritual, Christlike attitude, they love, serve, help, and minister to whoever they find, wherever they are, whatever their needs, whatever their (real or imagined) caste, without respect of persons. To somebodies. And to nobodies. That’s beautiful. That’s kingdom living. That’s how Jesus thought and acted. He cared for the somebodies and the nobodies and all the bodies in between. And so must we - or deeply grieve and disappoint Him!
Oh, and did I forget to say He did not care what race people were? He ministered deliverance to a demonic Jewish woman (Mary Magdalene), salvation to a thirsty Samaritan woman (John 4), and deliverance to the daughter of a desperate Gentile (Syrophoenician) woman (Mark 7:24-30), all with equal compassion.
Let us pray, “Oh, maranatha!” or, “Come Lord Jesus!” And, also, let us plead, “Thy kingdom come!” This alone is our great hope for the future.
Meanwhile, in the present, let us pray, “Thy will be done” in all of us, your born-again people! Then, let us personally hasten His will and kingdom in our own hearts and lives. How?
Let us love, respect, and minister to the somebodies, and the nobodies, and all the bodies in between.
