I died once. In my house, while my mother sat next to my bed. At 12 years old, my life was abruptly cut short.
I had been sick and my parents were losing hope that I’d pull through. They’d tried everything to make me better, and I just kept getting worse. But we had heard stories of a Man. A man who could walk on water, multiply lunches, heal disease, cure blind eyes and cause lame feet to leap.
This man called Jesus. We’d never met Him, but my mother said she’d try anything to keep me alive. So my father went to find him. And he did. He told Jesus that I was sick and Jesus turned to follow him back to our house.
But on His way, someone detained him. A lady who had suffered for many years. She’d spent all her money to see doctors who, in the end, couldn’t help her at all. I guess she’d heard the stories of Jesus too, because on His way to me, she found Him. And she had so much faith, that she knew if she could just touch the hem of His garment, there’d be healing. And it was immediate.
Jesus stopped right there to ask who had touched him. And it was in those moments when new life started for her, that life ended for me.
I’ve always wondered if I would have lived if Jesus hadn’t stopped there. But Jesus had a purpose in not getting there in time.
Did it cause more pain? Yes. My mother knelt there waiting for Jesus, weeping, watching as I struggled to take my last breath. In those moments, hope died. She sent a servant to tell Jesus that it was too late, but He came anyway. He still cared.
When he got to my house, He took my hand and told me to arise.
I’ve thought a lot about that down through the years. The very year I was born, this lady’s health started to decline. For the whole 12 years I had lived my life, she’d had an issue of blood that wouldn’t stop. While I laughed, and ran, and played, she suffered. Pain. Humiliation. Loss. Heartache.
But that day all because Jesus was coming to help me, she received healing. And Jesus may not have gotten there in time to stop me from dying, but He did something even better than healing me. He raised me from the dead.
My life had purpose. Has purpose. Sometimes Jesus doesn’t get to where we want Him to be when we want Him to be there, because He’s working miracles while we’re waiting. Sometimes, our greatest heartaches produce someone else’s longed for miracle.
Sometimes waiting is God’s opportunity to do the impossible. God’s purpose in our pain writes a more beautiful story than Him allowing pain to never come.
My mama dug a well for me. Not a literal one, but when I got weary of hearing about purpose, she reminded me of what that well holds. I’ve drawn from that well many times. And each time, I find that there’s purpose in waiting. There’s purpose in pain. And that death sometimes brings new beginnings.
If you’ve experienced death – death to your dreams, your hopes, your plans, your wishes; just wait. Jesus brings dead things back to life.
I am the daughter of Jairus