Awakenings...

A while back I was on my way to a birthday party, when the flow of traffic was interrupted by an unknown source.  I couldn't see far enough ahead to figure it out, and realizing I was going to be late, I started to get frustrated, muttering a few rude comments under my breath.  I was quickly silenced when I realized this was not meaningless traffic or "stupid Indiana drivers" as I had originally thought... it was a funeral procession.  Convicted, I whispered, "God, I'm so sorry.  Please comfort them." 

I was struck by the irony.  Here I was on my way to a birthday celebration, only to be interrupted by a funeral procession.  I wondered how many times funeral processions are passing right in front of me, and I miss them - men, women and children who are suffering, lost, broken, "dead mean walking," but I'm too busy to notice.  I have places to go, people to see, and my own life to celebrate.  I began to think about Jesus and what He would do in situations like these...

Jesus had a knack for turning funerals into birthday parties.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible (yeah, I know, I say that about all of them) is found in Mark 5.  Jesus is surrounded by crowds of people, healing their sicknesses and restoring life, when a man, a father named Jairus, shows up saying that his daughter is at death's door.  He asks Jesus to come with him, believing that He alone can save her. 

Jesus leaves the entire crowd for this one, dying child. 

On the way, He is interrupted by the woman we know as the one with the "issue of blood."  The moment Jesus spends with her turns out to be the death of Jairus' daughter.  Jairus' heart sinks, while those around him moan, "It's too late.  Why bother Jesus any more?"  But Jesus has plenty of life to give.  "Don't be afraid," He replies.  "Only believe."

Jesus and Jairus make their way to the house where the young girl lies dead in her bed.  Friends and loved ones are already mourning there, and they laugh at Jesus for suggesting He is able to restore this child to life.  But Jesus is not intimidated by the laughter of men.  He moves toward this girl and speaks life to her: "Talitha, koum," which means, "Little girl, arise."  

It's interesting that Jesus chose these words.  Mark makes a point to mention that she is 12 years old, the age at which a girl would be considered a woman.  Still, Jesus intentionally refers to her as a child, and in response, this "Talitha" arises to new life.  That word "arise" in greek literally means "to be roused from sleep, from sitting, from lying,  from disease, death, obscurity, inactivity, ruins, or non-existence; to rise up [again]."

Many of us are simply enduring life from one deathbed or another.  We lay around in beds of insecurity, intimidation, inactivity and loss.  In childlike faith, the voice of Life calls us to rise - to be awakened, to hear and respond in trust and live.  We tend to believe less as we grow up, but in God's mixed-up Kingdom, He calls us to believe more - to believe the impossible, the irrational, the inconceivable - believe and live.   

On this day of "Talitha, koum," Jesus walked into a funeral and turned it into a birthday.  He is present, now, to do the same with us.  So, Talitha Koum, boys and girls... arise.

Oh...and Happy Birthday.