Dying Daughters | Sunday, February 15, 2026

Amen. Praise the Lord. Thank you, Christian. Good morning. Hello, Cross Connection. You guys can have a seat. It is so good to see you here this morning.

As we gather today, we are going to be praying desperately because this next week is going to be stormpocalypse in San Diego. Prepare yourselves. Storm watch is beginning. I'm sure the news will have 24-hour team coverage to ensure that we are all safe. Then it will probably sprinkle twice, because that's what happens here in San Diego, right? Yes, indeed.

I was talking to a couple of friends this past week—one lives in Baltimore and another in Tennessee. They were trying to escape the frozen insanity, and I said, "It's 81 degrees here." Yes, I have the ministry of jealousy when I talk to my friends in the frozen parts of the world.

I'm so glad that the bridge of the song we were just singing serves as a reminder to us that all our hope is in the Lord. I think that's a really good reminder. It's important to remind ourselves that our ultimate hope is in Him. Sometimes we can forget that when we see the challenges that others are facing or when we ourselves go through difficulties.

The passage before us this morning is one of the more difficult texts of the Gospels. It is not difficult because it presents doctrinal challenges; there isn't anything in this passage that is hard to parse linguistically. There are no difficult grammatical issues here. Jesus doesn't introduce a riddle to solve, nor is there a hard saying to wrestle with.

This passage is challenging because it stirs deep hurts over delays and losses in our own lives. Those can be the most difficult passages, as they confront us with the very real challenges we face. The fact is that we live in a broken and fallen world, and every single one of us will, at some point in our lives, experience these struggles.

Confronted with difficulty, we often find ourselves reflecting on our experiences. If we are blessed enough to not experience significant challenges, we must acknowledge that we live in a society that suppresses difficulty. We are privileged to keep at arm's length many of the challenges and hardships that countless people throughout history and in various parts of the world today face. However, there is no possible way to live a storm-free life. Even if we manage to escape the challenges of suffering and difficulty in this world, we will inevitably confront it in the lives of those we love or those close to us.

This brings to mind a passage that highlights the hurts associated with delays and losses. More than ten years ago, I had a conversation with an acquaintance at a gym. I knew this individual to be an avowed atheist, as he had made it clear before that he did not believe in God. He also informed me, knowing I was a pastor, that we should avoid discussing such topics. Consequently, our conversations tended to be somewhat superficial. I didn't want to push too hard, but I was always looking for an opportunity, even if the ground rules had been set.

During our conversation, I don't even remember the exact context, but he said, "Well, you do know that I don't believe in God." I replied, "So I heard." He continued, "But you know, I used to believe in God." This piqued my interest, and I asked him, "Oh really? What happened?" He explained, "Well, my dad died of cancer, and I had prayed that he would be healed, but he didn't get healed."

What I have discovered is that many people who find themselves in a position similar to this individual do not reject God because they have rationally reasoned through the evidence for naturalism or their atheistic position. They haven't wrestled with the philosophical issues of creation and the cosmos. Often, those I interact with who identify as atheists are, as a friend of mine would say, not atheists but "hate theists." They are angry at God, and perhaps they have good reason to be angry, as something significant happened in their lives, much like what this individual was sharing with me.

Happened in his life. God didn't show up. He didn't show up at the time or in the way that he expected God to show up. The thought process goes something like this: If God were all-knowing, all-loving, and all-powerful—the omni-attributes of God that Christians believe in, as revealed in the Scriptures—then He should have done X, Y, or Z in this situation that I was facing.

The reasoning therefore follows for an individual, like the guy I was talking to at that time, that since God didn't show up and do X, Y, and Z, He either does not know, does not care, or does not have the power to deal with the issue that I'm going through and facing at this point in time. Or He just doesn't exist. This passage before us is difficult because it reminds us that sometimes God doesn't show up in the way that we think He should. He doesn't show up for the right people at the right time in the right way, according to my right understanding of everything.

Just so you know, I always have a right understanding of everything. Don't you? Sometimes we think we do, for sure. If anyone would say yes to that, it would be Tater.

If you would open your Bibles this morning to the Gospel of Luke and stand with me. If you don't have a Bible, you can raise your hand, and an usher will bring you one. If you open about the middle of your Bible and start turning to the right, you'll find the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke. Luke chapter 8 is where we're going to finally finish this passage today, beginning at verse 40.

There, the author records: "So it was when Jesus returned that the multitude welcomed Him, for they were waiting for Him. And behold, there came a man named Jairus, and he was the ruler of the synagogue. He fell down at Jesus's feet and begged Him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter of about 12 years of age, and she was dying. But as Jesus went, the multitude thronged Him. Now a woman, having a flow of blood for 12 years, who had spent all her livelihood on physicians and could not be healed by any, came from behind and touched the border of Jesus's garment."

Blood stopped, and Jesus said, "Who touched me?" When all denied it, Peter and those with Jesus said, "Master, the multitude throngs about you and presses you, and you say, 'Who touched me?'" But Jesus said, "Somebody touched me, for I perceived power going out from me."

Now, when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling and, falling down before Him, declared to Him in the presence of all the people the reason she had touched Him and how she was healed immediately. He said to her, "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well. Go in peace."

God, I pray as we consider this text together this morning—a text that does bring to the surface hurts and pains from losses and delays—would you speak to us? Would you transform us by the renewing of our minds? Help us to see more clearly, to see differently, to have a new perspective on not just this text, but on our lives, ourselves in this world, who You are, and how You work. God, continue to transform us. Lord, help us to be transformed more and more into the likeness of Your children. We ask this today in Jesus' name, and all those that agreed said, "Amen." You can be seated.

The text begins there, "So it was when Jesus returned." This means we need to refresh our memory for a moment about where we were last week. If you were here with us, Jesus was on the opposite side of the Sea of Galilee. He was on the eastern shore in a region called Gadara. While he was there, he was met by a man who was severely demon-possessed; he had a legion of demons. Ultimately, through the course of the story, Jesus delivered this man, who had been tormented and had tormented other people for a very long time, of his demons. The demons were cast into a herd of swine that ran down into the sea, and they all died.

Of course, the farmers who kept those swine were not too happy, so they came to Jesus and said, "We don't want you here." So He left. Now He returned, back to the other side of the lake, the western side, probably to the town of...

Capernaum was basically the base of operations for Jesus. It was the hometown of Peter, Andrew, James, John, and others, including Matthew. When Jesus returned to Capernaum, the multitudes welcomed him and were very happy to see him. As he returned, he was immediately greeted by a pleading man named Jairus. We are also given the occupation of this man; Jairus was the ruler of the synagogue, something akin to a pastor. In that community at that time and place, the ruler of the synagogue was a highly valued person in society.

You can visit the ruins of Capernaum. I have been there many times, and I was just there a few months ago. The synagogue of Capernaum is the most prominent synagogue in that region of northwest Galilee, and it is the largest one. The ruins of the synagogue are still there, and the ruins of what is believed to be Peter's house are just a very short stone's throw away from the synagogue. Jesus had been to that synagogue many times before.

Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, knew who Jesus was, and perhaps Jesus knew who he was as well. However, one thing is certain: everybody in Capernaum knew who Jairus was. He was a well-respected and well-to-do man. In a Jewish community in the first century, any village that had ten Jewish families, or ten Jewish adult men with families, was required to put forth the funds needed for a synagogue. A ruler would then be chosen to oversee it, and he would be supported by their tithes. Therefore, everyone knew who Jairus was, and he was regarded highly.

Now, Jairus came and cast himself down at Jesus' feet, begging for help. This was not the position you would normally see someone like Jairus in, but desperate situations call for desperate actions. He made a scene and did not care about what others would think. This is often difficult for us, as one of the worst things we can imagine is being embarrassed. We will do almost anything to avoid embarrassment, which is why so many people hate public speaking. If I invited any number of you up here to speak, it would likely be a daunting task.

For just a couple of minutes, unless your name is John, you might think, "I can't possibly do that." You would be very angry at me if I forced you to do so, because we see it as a source of embarrassment. To keep from embarrassment, we will almost do anything.

But this man is in a desperate situation, and his perception of social standing has gone out the window. He just doesn't care. Why? Because his only daughter, about 12 years of age, is dying. Every parent here this morning can relate to Jairus' desperation. Even if your children are now adults and have moved on, and you don't see them every single day of the year, you can still identify with the desperation here.

We don't know how long Jairus' daughter has been sick, and it doesn't really matter. What we do know is that now it's an emergency. In an emergency, all bets are off. Everything is put aside. No time can be wasted. In the dust, at Jesus' feet, when His feet met the land in Capernaum, we see the most well-respected man in the community making a show of himself in a place where honor and shame rank very highly.

We don't live in the same kind of culture, but the Middle Eastern culture is one of honor and shame. Jairus is desperate for help. All his other options have been exhausted. There's only one choice left for him. He couldn't wait any longer, and he didn't care if he jeopardized his position in the eyes of other people. He now comes to Jesus and casts himself down at His feet. Nothing else matters—your social standing, your position. What good is social standing when your only daughter's life hangs in the balance?

I've seen this desperation before. For more than 15 years now, I have been serving as a chaplain with the Escalito Fire Department. There have been times when I've been on a fire engine as a ride-along, and the call comes in. Dispatch notifies us that it's a child. Let me tell you something: the fire department moves quickly, but they move extra fast when it's a child. I've seen the desperation when we arrive on the scene and a parent is screaming because it's their child. That desperation is heart-wrenching. You can ask any firefighter.

I know many of them; they will tell you the calls that weigh on them are the calls where they still remember the cry of a mother. This was one of those situations.

Point number one, if you're taking notes: Jesus is frequently sought only in the most desperate of situations. Much to our shame, maybe years later, but that is the case. There are more than a few of you here this morning who came to Christ for the first time because of a desperate situation. Sometimes that's the only time we seek Christ—when He is our last call, when all other bets have failed, and when we realize we only have this option.

I am so grateful that when that moment comes, Jesus didn't say to Jairus, "Where were you six months ago?" The synagogue at Capernaum was the place where the leaders of the synagogue conspired against Jesus to trap Him with a man who had a withered hand on the Sabbath day. Jairus might have been a part of that. Jesus doesn't say, "You should have come sooner." He doesn't rebuke last resort prayers or slow faith. Isn't that good news? It is good news.

Because it's true that Jesus doesn't rebuke slow faith or last resort prayers, He immediately goes with Jairus to his home. But as He went, the multitudes thronged Him. Time is of the essence in this situation. Doesn't it always seem that way? Imagine Jairus for a moment; things are moving in slow motion for him at this moment, and they just got slower because there's a traffic jam.

Doesn't it always seem to be the case? You need to get somewhere now, and you hit every single red light on El Norte Parkway. Or Escondido has chosen to do construction on virtually every street in town right now. Have you noticed? Yes, you have. It's just stop and go the whole way. The multitude thronged Him, which means to press in upon, but it gets worse.

Now, in verse 43, a woman...

Having a flow of blood for twelve years is a significant condition. We can use our imaginations about what that means for someone who has spent all her livelihood on physicians for more than a decade. She has given everything she possibly can to try to deal with this problem, which is not just a medical condition; it is also a social standing issue in that culture.

The Levitical Law, as outlined in Genesis, Exodus, and Leviticus, is often the book where most people get stalled when they read through the Bible in a year because it can be tough. My son has been reading it recently and has asked me questions about it. In Leviticus, we learn that a woman in this condition, which is already an embarrassing thing—something she would not want others to know about—must inform the authorities of the synagogue about her condition. As a result, she is considered ceremonially unclean. Not only does she have a medical problem, but now she is also ceremonially unclean. She cannot go to the synagogue or participate in regular social environments. According to Leviticus, she is unclean. Can you imagine having to live with that shame? I can't even wrap my brain around it.

Interestingly, how old is Jairus' daughter? Twelve years. How long has this woman suffered? Twelve years. It is not an accident that these two situations align. She has spent all her livelihood on physicians, yet she could not be healed by any of them. Then, she came from behind and touched the border of His garment. The term "border of His garment" is important. If you do a word study on this in Greek, you will discover that it refers to the tassels of Jesus' garment. Orthodox Jews, even today, wear tassels on their garments according to the book of Leviticus, which represent the law. This reminds us that Jesus was Jewish—really Jewish—and that He had tassels on the wings of His garments.

So, she comes up behind Him and touches the border, the tassels, of His garment, and immediately her flow of blood stops. She could tell in that split second that something was different. Power went out of Him and into her, and she was changed. What the physicians could not do, the great Physician did.

Now, again, put yourself in her situation. She has lived with shame for twelve years, ostracized and outcast from social life. In a moment, she knows she is healed. The joy...

The exuberant joy is immediately destroyed when Jesus stops and says, "Who touched me?" Everything turns to total terror. He is surrounded by people who are touching Him, and He knows that someone touched Him with intent. She knows it was her, and she is doing everything she can to hide. She is not supposed to be there; she is unclean. According to Leviticus, she is making every person she touches unclean, including Him, because she has touched Him.

I think she had probably been thinking about if ever there was an opportunity where there was a crowd around Him and He was on the move, that would be her moment. Now she has found the opportunity, and she makes her way as covertly as she can through the crowd. As Jesus is on the move with Jairus, who is kind of tugging at Him, she quietly comes up and touches the hem of His garment. She is instantly healed and just wants to fade away, letting the crowd keep going as she stops and walks away. No one ever has to know.

Then He says, "Who touched me?" When all denied it, Peter and those with Jesus said, "Master, the multitude throngs and presses You, and You say, 'Who touched me?'"

Put yourself in Jairus's sandals. Imagine the situation from his perspective. Think about it like this: You're the parent in the passenger seat of the ambulance. Your child, your only child, is in the back of the ambulance, and you're going code three to the hospital. The paramedic says, "Starbucks. I could use a coffee right now." No! Jairus is devastated in this moment. They do not have time for this. Time is of the essence. He must come now; his daughter, his only daughter, is dying. There is no time for delays. He has made a scene; he has made a fool of himself. The most prominent individual in Capernaum has made a fool of himself.

Casting himself at the feet of Jesus, Gyrus found that it paid off. However, as Jesus was on His way, traffic became bad and only got worse. In the midst of this, Jesus suddenly asked, "Who touched me?" He stopped, and while it is total speculation, perhaps Gyrus knew this woman. After all, she would have had to go to the rulers of the synagogue to inform them of her condition twelve years prior, around the time he was welcoming his newborn daughter into the world. She would have had to let them know her situation, and eventually, they would have had to tell her, "We're really sorry, we can't help you, and you can't come here anymore."

She was the kind of person Gyrus would have known. Now, in the crowd, she tried to come in secretly. This brings us to point number two: Jesus is frequently thronged by desperate seekers with desperate situations. Gyrus did not have time for this, but Jesus did. He said, "Somebody touched me," as recorded in verse 46, "for I perceived power going out from me."

Note this; you might want to underline verse 47. When the woman saw that she was not hidden, her joy turned to terror. Jesus knew who touched Him, and she knew she had touched Him, but nobody else understood what was happening. "Wait, why are we stopping? Somebody touched me. I felt power go out from me."

When she realized she was not hidden, she came trembling and fell down before Him, using the same words that were used of Gyrus a couple of verses earlier when he fell down before Jesus. She declared to Him, in the presence of all the people, the reason she had touched Him and how she was healed immediately. Jesus responded to her, calling her "Daughter," a word that, in that moment, would have filled her with total joy.

Being received by Him is a word that, in that very moment, shatters the heart of Jairus. "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well; go in peace." She had wanted to be covert in this situation. If she could just get in there, this would be the perfect situation. Now, however, she has been outed. She has been looking for this moment, and now she cannot be hidden.

The Gospel of Matthew tells us what was going through her mind in Matthew chapter nine, verse 21. She said within herself, "If only I touch the hem of His garment, I will be made well." Now, it's a superstitious faith; it may not be the best kind of faith, but Jesus doesn't chastise it. He didn't rebuke her for her faulty faith or her flawed kind of theology. Instead, He says to her, "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well; go in peace."

But why did He out her? Could He not have just let her go quietly into the crowd? Why expose her in this moment? I never even thought about that question until about 20 years ago. I was sitting, like you're sitting right now, listening to my friend David Guzik preach at Calvary Chapel in Ziegen, Germany. He was teaching on this passage and asked that question: why expose her? The things he shared with the congregation then have stuck with me ever since, and I want to share them with you now.

David said Jesus called her out because He wanted the woman to know that she was healed. He didn't want there to be any doubt. You might have experienced this before; you think that maybe something has happened, maybe there's been a healing, but you still question it. Maybe it will come back—the doubt that we all wrestle with. He wanted her to know that she was healed.

Second, He wanted others to know that she was healed. They needed to know she was now a daughter, accepted and brought back into the fellowship, into the community—the one who had been an outcast, the one who had been set apart from social life. Third, He wanted her to know why she was healed. It was not because she touched...

His garment was not a superstitious thing; it wasn't just about touching it to receive a blessing. He said to her, "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well. Go in peace." He did not want her to think that she had stolen a blessing, that she took something he wasn't willing to give. No, he wanted her to know that he was willing. At other times, people came to him saying, "Lord, if you will, you can make me whole." And he responded, "I am willing." He did not want her to think she had stolen a blessing.

Furthermore, he wanted to encourage Jairus's faith. I don't think it's an accident that he called this woman "daughter." Jesus was aware that Jairus was seeking a miracle for his daughter, and now Jesus heals this other daughter. Finally, he wanted to bless the woman in a special way by calling her "daughter." This word signified that she was no longer an outsider, that she was no longer an outcast. This brought great joy and immense rejoicing in her heart. When Jesus says "daughter," it tears at the heart of Jairus and shatters it into ten million pieces.

Just then, while Jesus is saying to this woman, "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well," Jairus feels a tap on the shoulder, and someone quietly whispers to him, "Your daughter is dead. Don't trouble the rabbi. It's too late." What crushing words! "Your daughter is dead"—the words that no parent ever wants to hear.

Again, the woman with the issue of blood is overflowing with exuberant joy and rejoicing because of her healing. But now Jesus has reintroduced her back into the culture, saying, "Daughter, be of good cheer." The crowd, the multitude pressing in around him, is in awe and total amazement, while Jairus just deflates.

This is where the difficulty of this passage comes in. Point number three: Jesus's care for others frequently feels like neglect of me. Have you ever felt that? That's what this acquaintance of mine shared with me all those years ago.

I prayed, and it got worse. Nothing got better. He died. The hardest moments are when Jesus stops for someone else, and it seems as though He overlooks me. There are many people who are angry at God today because of that very situation. They're in your family; they're in my family. I've had conversations with them.

But when Jesus heard it, He answered him and said, "Do not be afraid. Only believe, and she will be made well." When He came into the house of Jairus, He permitted no one to go in except Peter, James, John, and the father and mother of the girl. Now, everybody wept and mourned for the girl, but He said, "Do not weep. She is not dead, but sleeping." They ridiculed Him, knowing that she was dead.

We've seen a dead body before. It's a really strange thing. If you've ever been in that situation—many of you have not—I have been there on a number of occasions where you watch someone move from death to life. It's an amazing thing. It's hard to even fully wrap your brain around in that moment that something happens, but it's like the body is still there. The body is still warm. The cells are still moving, and yet something has gone. It's an amazing thing to behold. It is clearly different from one second of breath, and then breath becomes air. It's final. There's no turning back.

They ridiculed Him. Point number four: apart from faith, the words and ways of Jesus can seem ridiculous. Certainly, that's the case. There are many things that you read in the Scripture that make you think, "Come on." There are many things that we believe that other people say to us, and they respond, "You believe that? That seems ridiculous." Sometimes, we are embarrassed to even admit that. Yes, I do believe that. Your cousin or your coworker looks at you, rolls their eyes, or you just sense in their body language their ridicule.

Jairus's daughter was dead. The people knew it. He knew it. The situation was dire.

Hopelessness can often feel overwhelming, but those are the perfect conditions for Jesus. In Psalm 34, the Psalmist says that the Lord is near to those who are of a broken heart. He draws in Jairus and his wife, taking Peter, James, and John with him as he goes into the house. He puts all of them outside. In verse 54, he takes her by the hand and calls, saying, "Little girl, arise."

This is interesting because the Gospels are recorded for us in Greek, but this phrase is in Aramaic, the dialect of the community there: "Talitha cumi," which means "little girl, arise." He takes her by the hand and says, "Little girl, arise." Then her spirit returns. That's fascinating. She rises immediately, and he commands that she be given something to eat. Her parents were astonished. That doesn't even begin to explain it; it's like the understatement of the passage. Her parents were astonished, but he charged them to tell no one what had happened. He had told everybody that she was asleep. Perhaps that was a form of messianic cover—she was just sleeping, and they didn't know how to diagnose a dead patient. He instructed them to tell no one what had happened.

This is one of those difficult passages of Scripture. It's challenging because, despite all the delays and speed bumps in the narrative, both of the dying daughters in this passage are raised up and restored, which is great. I mean, it's a happy ending. The woman with the issue of blood for twelve years is made whole and reintroduced back into society. Jairus's daughter is alive; she's eating. However, it's a difficult passage because that's not always what happens for us.

Years ago, during a conversation with an acquaintance, he shared about his father's death and how his prayers went unanswered. His dad died, and I could feel his pain and anger. I understood his pain and anger because it's not abnormal; it is the normal experience. Death is terrible, and we hate death. Death should always anger us, and it angers God.

I've done dozens and dozens of funerals in the last 27 years. The first funeral I conducted was for a grieving mother and father who lost their child, a boy at birth. Their funeral was just me and them in a tiny little box with the remains of their dead child. Sadly, their marriage didn't survive, because frequently, they don't in those situations.

Death should anger us. I've shared this at every funeral I've done. God never intended or desired for us to suffer death. It is not His punishment; it is the sad reality of evil and wickedness, the opposite of God. When God is rejected, that's the only alternative. He is life, and apart from Him is death. He hates death, and death is a strong enemy. The promise of the Scriptures is that the last enemy to be destroyed and conquered will be death. But even still today, death seems to reign because we all endure loss in death.

A year ago, my friends lost their 16-year-old daughter to cancer. They did everything right according to the right things you do, like Jairus and his wife did. They raised their kids in the church, their only son and their only daughter. They prayed for them and taught them the Scriptures. They prayed with them and prayed together for her, and hundreds of people prayed for her, not just here but throughout the whole world, and she died.

Last August, as many of you know, my younger brother Danny died in a tragic accident. He and I had plans for this year, things we intended to do together. A little more than a year ago, he was here in this room when I conducted the wedding for my older brother. I saw Danny all dressed up and thought to myself, "Well, maybe the next wedding I will do will be his." Instead, I did his funeral.

My sister just yesterday met a girl we didn't even know about, who apparently was a very close friend of Danny's, someone he didn't tell us about. But that won't happen. A faithful woman in our church, whom I've known since I was a teenager, has been a source of support during this difficult time.

Daughters and I used to attend a Bible study at their house when I was a teenager. Her daughter, whom I've known since I was 15 years old, recently died of cancer. She served on the mission field with her husband and took care of their two special needs sons. We prayed for her, but she's gone.

There are others here today who have terminal diagnoses and difficult things you are facing. We know this because we read your prayer requests, and many of those requests may seem like they go unanswered. This is a difficult passage of Scripture. So how do we wrestle with that? It seems like He heals others and takes care of those individuals, as we read in this story, but what about me?

I want to remind you that no prayer is for naught. This life is not all there is. The last foe to be vanquished will be death. Let me summarize with a few things to consider.

First, Jesus is not indifferent to your pain, and He isn't annoyed by desperate prayers or too little faith. He said to Jairus, "Do not be afraid; only believe."

Second, Jesus is not limited by what we call "too late." They said, "She's dead. There's nothing you can do. Don't bother the master any longer."

Third, the message of this story is not that if you just believe hard enough, then you'll always get a miracle. Rather, the story reminds us that Jesus is the kind of Savior you can trust in, even when the outcome is not what you begged for.

This brings us to the final point: our desperate situations will find their ultimate resolution in eternity. Here’s the reframe. As I shared a few weeks ago, we don't see reality as it really is, and Jesus wants us to see reality as it truly is. Our culture has been forced into a totally naturalistic view of everything that sees...

This life is only this place, and therefore, this is all that there is. If that's the case, there's every reason to be absolutely hopeless. But Jesus comes and says that reality is bigger than you think it is. He reframes reality and says, "I want you to see reality for what it really is."

What is reality as it really is? According to the Scriptures and according to Jesus, which is what I believe—even though some people will tell me it's ridiculous—this life is not all there is. To be absent from this body and to be absent from this world is to be present with the Lord. The Scriptures speak about the coming of the Messiah in Isaiah 53, referring to the suffering servant. It says, "And by His stripes, we are healed."

The ultimate healing is not the healing from an issue of blood or the healing from cancer. The ultimate healing is the healing from sin and death that is only found in Jesus through the resurrection. That is the ultimate healing. Yes, there are times here on earth when the ills and pains, the sicknesses, and the tragedies are not resolved in the way that we think they might be or ought to be. But in eternity, they are. The last enemy that will be destroyed is death, as stated in First Corinthians 15:26.

That is the reframe that brings things into clarity. If today you find yourself in the place of the woman with the issue of blood—hopelessly and helplessly, year after year, seeking restoration and deliverance—remember that Christ is the one who says, "Daughter, be of good cheer. Your faith has made you well. Go in peace." He is the same Christ who says, "Little girl, arise." He is the same Christ that you will one day hear say, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of the Lord."

That is the good news that a hopeless world desperately needs to hear. Would you stand with me as we close in prayer? God, thank You for this difficult passage. I pray that You would use it to open our eyes to see a little bit more clearly and to understand reality as it really is, not the reality that we think we understand.

According to our cultural awareness, Lord, open our eyes that we might see. God, would you restore the joy of our salvation as we trust in you, knowing that one day death will die and we will be in your presence, where there is no more sickness, suffering, or tears. There is joy and rejoicing forevermore.

God, thank you for this text. I pray that you would use it as an encouragement, as a source of strength, faith, and hope—a hope that does not disappoint. We praise you, Jesus. It's in your name we pray. Amen.