If pressed, I couldn’t give an accurate answer to the exact day or time. It began when I noticed man after man, woman after woman coming into the meeting place healthy. I knew without a doubt they had been sick. Now though, they were well. I was, of course, curious, “Why and how were these people healthy, not sick?”
I finally asked, “You were always miserably ill and it was one thing after another with you, what’s changed?” The answer was a person.
That day I stayed home from work. My wife and I sat facing each other. We whispered, cried, and prayed. Our daughter had a sickness. The sickness had gotten worse. We begged the doctor to do something. He tried. He failed. Our twelve year old daughter suffered what? Today her skin-color faded into a pallid grayness.
As her mother and I sat together beside our daughter’s bed, holding our child’s hand, stroking and squeezing it, we heard a commotion from the street. Reluctantly I released her hand, stood up, and rushed to the doorway. My wife followed. I called out to a neighbor who hurried by our home. “What’s going on?”
“It’s him! He’s arriving in a boat!”
I glanced into my wife’s eyes. Message sent. Message received. “You go, I’ll stay here,” she said.
I touched her cheek. I pulled her toward me. I kissed her forehead. I bent and tightened my sandal laces. Then, I ran with the crowd to the shore of Galilee.
This day was different from any other, I’d never experienced a crisis like this. I perspired with desperation. My head resisted , still my heart insisted he could help. I passed many as I pumped my legs and arms. ‘I have to go faster,’ was my thought. Hope drove me. I spotted my
destination. I was close.
I pushed through the crowd that had arrived before me. I stood in front of him as he stepped out of the boat. With no shame, all pride forgotten, I pleaded, “Please come with me. My daughter is dying!”
“Sure, let’s go.”
Miracles happened as we quick-stepped toward my house, but I wasn’t aware of them until later. On the way, I did notice, a small woman distracted him. He momentarily hesitated. What I noticed more were a few of my friends coming. They arrived and said, “Don’t trouble the Master anymore, your daughter has died.”
My heart broke. My spirit was crushed. He heard what they said and he said to me, “Don’t worry. Just have faith?”
Through tears I focused on my daughter in her bed at home. I took a step and then we were home.
He instructed the crowd to wait outside. They did. He and I, and three other men who had been with Him in the boat, entered my home. The house was packed with family and friends weeping loudly. “What’s the matter? Why are you carrying on like this? The child isn’t dead, she’s only sleeping,” He said.
Everyone laughed. He ignored their lack of knowledge and ordered, “Please wait outside.” Perhaps out of respect for me and the situation, they complied.
I rushed to the bedroom. He followed. My wife already knelt beside the bed and sobbed as she pressed her head into our daughter’s body. He stepped forward. He took our daughter’s hand. “Little girl, get up!”
In the name of Jesus! She got up and walked!
He said, “Give her something to eat. This mission is finished.”