Mark 5

The Little Big Things

He commanded that something should be given her to eat. Mark 5:43.

Our text today is a wonderful ending to a wonderful story. In some ways it is the most wonderful bit of that wonderful story. I wonder why!

Of course you have all heard the tale. You know how one day, while Jesus was talking to a crowd of people, a man pressed through the throng and, flinging himself at Jesus' feet, begged Him to come and save his child who was even then dying. His name was Jairus, and he was a great man in his own way, for he was what the Jews called a “ruler” of the synagogue that is to say, he was chairman at all the church meetings. As the Jews were very proud of their churches and their religion that meant that he was a much-thought-of man. Some people believe that the synagogue of which he was ruler was the synagogue of which we hear in another miracle the synagogue which had been built at Capernaum by the Roman centurion whose sick servant Jesus healed. Perhaps Jairus was one of those who pleaded with Jesus on that occasion for the cure of the centurion's servant. Perhaps that was why he came to the Master again when the physicians told him that there was no hope for his child. She was his only child, and we know that he loved her dearly, for when he spoke of his “little daughter” he used a pet word, a term of endearment “my little girlie” he really said. He felt sure that even now, although the case was desperate, Christ had but to lay His hand on the child, and at His touch her sickness would pass away, and she would be his healthy, merry, happy little daughter once again.

You remember how Jesus went at once to help, and how the crowd, who were curious to see what would happen, followed. You remember how the procession for it was almost that halted because one of the crowd, a woman who had been ill for years, touched the tassel at the corner of Christ's robe and was immediately cured of her illness. You can imagine how impatient the anxious father must have been at the interruption, how he must have said to himself, “This woman could have waited, but every moment is precious if my child is to be saved.” And while Jesus was still speaking to the woman you remember how there came a messenger from the ruler's house saying, “There is no use troubling the Master further. The child is dead.” It must have been a terrible moment for the poor ruler, when he heard that he was too late. But Jesus, we are told, paid no heed to the words of the messenger. He just said to the ruler, “Fear not, only believe.” He turned to the crowd and asked them to come no farther, and then He picked out three of His disciples to accompany Him and went on with the ruler to his home.

He did not need anyone to tell Him which was the house, for long before He reached it the cries of the mourners marked it out. In Palestine you must know that when anyone died the custom was to announce the death to the neighborhood by loud weeping and wailing. So when Christ arrived on the scene He found the usual crowd of friends and neighbors wailing and beating their breasts and lamenting the lost child. To these He said, “Why do you weep and make such a tumult? The child is not dead, she is only sleeping.” But they laughed Him to scorn. Sleeping indeed! They knew better than that! And so Christ turned out of the house that scoffing, unbelieving crowd of men and women, and, taking with Him only the three disciples and the child's father and mother, He went into the room where she lay.

He took her little cold hand in his warm strong grasp, and He spoke to her two words, “Child, arise!” just as your mother sometimes wakens you in the morning with the words, “Child, it's time to get up.” And at His touch the little girl opened her eyes and sprang up feeling as well and happy as any of you do when you are called to rise on a sunny summer morning. She was brought back not merely to life that would have been marvelous enough but she was brought back to health. She did not have to rise and feel her legs shaky, she did not need to have breakfast in bed for weeks, nor did she require tonics from the chemist and a change of air to make her cheeks rosy. She was absolutely well all in a moment.

Then came what I think the most wonderful bit of the story the bit we have chosen for our text. Jesus told her father and mother to give her something to eat. Was that more wonderful than bringing her back to life? Yes, in a way it was. You see when you think that Christ is the great Son of God it seems quite natural that He should perform a splendid miracle. But when you think that He is the great Son of God it seems extraordinary that He should remember that a little sick girl who has been living on practically nothing for days but who has suddenly become quite well again must be very hungry. The child's father and mother were so overjoyed and excited that they never thought of anything so ordinary and everyday as food. But Jesus, who thought of everything, especially of all the little things that other people considered of no importance, remembered that Jairus' ‘‘little girlie” needed a good meal.

Now I wonder if you have ever noticed that the greatest men the world has known have been the men who remembered the little things that less great, men forgot. They were busy all day with big things, but in the midst of their “busyness” they found time to remember the little things. And it is the little things, after all, that often matter most in life.

Today there lives in a certain famous Scottish town a certain famous man. If I were to tell you his name you might not recognize it, but some of your fathers and mothers would. Shall I tell you the greatest thing I ever heard about that man? It was what some people would call a very little thing indeed. He was born in a little manse in the Highlands of Scotland. He was the eldest son of the house and he had several brothers younger than himself. They were all very clever, and later when they grew up they scattered far and wide over the kingdom. But every year in the summer they came back for a few weeks to their little old home, for they had a mother whom they all loved dearly. They spent those weeks fishing, golfing, cycling, walking, or lazing in the sun; and they all had a really time together. But it was the greatest and most famous among them who remembered the little things. He took off his coat and he mowed the lawn. He got the shears from the tool shed and he trimmed the privet hedge. A visitor remarked to his mother how neat the garden looked. “Oh yes,” she replied, with a smile, “that's Robert. The others never think of little things like that, but he always remembers.”

Boys and girls, Christ always remembered. Shall we remember too?