Waiting

Mark 5:21-43

        Kipling wrote, “If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting, yours is the Earth and everything in it. Even more, you’ll be a man, my son.”  Thank goodness the bar for manhood has slipped over the past 100 years.  I suspect waiting, especially waiting on others, is not something many of us immensely enjoy.  How many of you husbands enjoy waiting for your wives to get dressed?  Of course if I was to poll the wives, you would tell me being ready would not be an issue if you didn’t have to dress everyone else first.  Waiting is a universal problem.  Everyone is usually waiting on someone else.  And unfortunately when we wait, thoughts of Kipling seldom surface to remind us what a virtuous person we can become by displaying the gift of self-restraint.

        This morning’s text is all about waiting, not just for our children, not just for our spouse, not even for the stranger who is in line ahead of us.  It is about waiting for God.

        The Psalmist writes, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in God’s word I wait.  My soul waits for the Lord longer than the watchmen for the morning.”  I can understand that.  Some mornings I look out on Lake Monocan anticipating the coming of the new day.  Sometimes I sit on my deck as the sky turns dark replacing the brilliance of the sun with the flicker of distant stars.  My soul is soothed by God’s repeated formula for the night finding light and vice versa. I revel in the transformation of each 24 hour dance as the sun rises and sets.    But the text we have before us doesn’t take place in the tranquility of a stable universe.  It happens in the middle of the day, in the midst of the instability of human life when even waiting a single moment can be the difference between life and death. It is the story of a man and a woman, brought together in their quest for a moment with God.  Neither knows the other, neither has the patience to wait, yet both have their lives come to an agonizing halt as they attempt to defy death through a word, a touch, a blessing from this rabbi  with the mysterious power to turn night into dawn.  

        The man’s name was Jarius and he was a leader in the Synagogue.  Jarius was probably quite aware of who Jesus was and may have participated in some of the debates discussing the validity of the ministry of Jesus.  Most of the members of the Synagogue viewed Jesus as a dangerous man who was to be avoided at all cost.  Under normal circumstances there is no way a member of the Synagogue would approach Jesus in broad daylight, but this day was not normal for Jarius.  His daughter was terribly ill and the doctors were certain her death was immanent. Forgetting all he had heard about Jesus,  Jarius fell to his knees and begged Jesus to drop everything and follow him to his daughter’s bedside.  He had no time to waste on religious protocol.  His daughter was going to die unless Jesus could save her.

        The woman also had a name but it was not recorded.  Unlike Jarius, she was not a person of position.    People only knew her as “that sick woman”.  She has been bleeding internally for over twelve years and had spent all her income looking for a cure.  Now she was penniless and treated as an outcast. She had heard about this young rabbi who had the power to heal with a single word.  Like hundreds of others she waited for her time to see the healer.  She was not the only one hoping for relief from a life of misery.  Everyone was pushing forward to have a word of grace from Jesus.   She got within a few feet of him.  She could actually see his face and hear his words.  She realized her dream of a cure might finally be realized.  But then there was some commotion as a man demanded the immediate attention of Jesus  She recognized Jarius.  She had seen him when she visited the Synagogue.  What could he possibly be saying that was more important than her twelve years of misery?  Jesus seemed to respond to Jarius and began to walk with him.  With disregard for anyone but herself, the woman pushed her way through the crowd.  She walked over the lame and bullied her way past the blind.  She cried out but her voice was muffled by the crowd.  In an act of desperation she reached out and grabbed the cloak of Jesus.  Suddenly everything stopped.  The bleeding….stopped;  Jesus…. stopped;  Jarius…. stopped; the heart of his daughter…..stopped; the hope of a father………….. stopped.

        I have read this story many, many times.  It seems as if Jesus was caught in a dilemma in which there were two tragedies and Jesus could only respond to one.  In this case, Jesus does not even make the choice.  The woman intervenes, violates the space surrounding Jesus and holds on for dear life.  Jesus feels his power to heal being drained from him. He stopped to address the woman and when his attention is turned to her, the child of Jarius dies.   This is such a tragic story rivaling a Greek drama. But we all know the story does not end in death.   After addressing the woman, Jesus follows the grieving father home and the child is resurrected.  When one reads the story it causes us to marvel at the power of God to create life in the face of death.  But I think there is a second story to be observed. Let’s push you past the happy ending and consider, if just for a moment, the demands we place on God.

        We have a nameless woman who stepped in front of folks with equally debilitating illnesses.  She reached out, grabbing the cloak of Jesus, to get his attention.  Worst of all she stopped Jesus from his appointed rounds.  She predetermined her illness was much more important than the life of anyone else.

        Second we have Jarius.  When all was well, Jarius probably cursed Jesus as some charlatan whose sole purpose was to excite the local population.  But that was before his daughter became ill.  Then nothing else mattered.  Like the woman he pushed folks aside to get to Jesus.  He literally used his authority to be first in line.  Neither the woman nor the man had time to wait for God. Their priorities were more important than even the agenda of Jesus.

        Why must everything be on our time?  Why must others, including God, fall in line behind our priorities? Those are impossible questions that someone a lot braver than I might want to address.  Still I wonder, in our non-essential moments, are we were willing to daily sit and wait on God? 

        I expect all of us at some point in time have bullied our way through life’s obstacle course just to touch the robe of the savior.  But how often do we stop in the midst of an ordinary day just to acknowledge God’s presence?  How often do we celebrate the miracle of God’s grace?  How often do we remember God is always with us?  How willing are we to intentionally disrupt our daily lives to stop, wait, and give thanks for Gods presence?  How willing are we are to seek out God before, rather than in, the midst of a crisis?

        The Psalmist reminds us that we are to wait for the Lord as the watchmen waits for the morning.  Ever had a conversation with someone who has a consistent prayer life? One thing that impresses me is their understanding of what constitutes a crisis.  Another is their response should an actual crisis arise.  The have the ability to wait, then act, at precisely the right moment.  They have a keen understanding of Isaiah’s promise that those that wait upon the Lord shall have their strength renewed.   I am too much like the characters in our text.  I don’t have the discipline to wait.  I am afraid if I act on anyone’s time but my own I will be late or left behind.  So I grasp the robe, I push to the front.  I demand to be heard because my crisis is more important than anyone else.  I extinguish my strength failing to abide in God’s time, a time where the child lives, a time where the soul is soothed, a time where when I yield, I receive abundantly. 

        Howard Thurman claims when he waits in the quiet experience of prayer, without being held hostage by his anxieties, he finds the vision to see the hand of God in everything in which he is involved.   

        Stealing from Thurman, might I suggest our daily prayer be:

        Lord,  open unto me:

                Light for my darkness,

                Courage for my fear,

                Hope for my despair.

                Joy for my sorrow,

                Love for my hate.

                Thy Self for my self.

                In Your time, rather than mine.

                                                                        Amen.