Walking With Christ

(Part 1 of 16)

Mark 5:42–43 (42)And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement. (43)And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.(ESV)

We like endings. There’s something satisfying about reaching the moment when everything finally changes.

The giant falls. The sea opens. The prison door swings wide. The blind man sees. The sick person is healed. The dead girl gets up.

That’s where we usually stop telling the story. But the people in those stories didn’t stop living when the story ended.

The crowd eventually went home. The excitement faded. The sun went down. And then it came back up the next morning.

What happened then?

That’s where I want to spend some time. There are stories throughout Scripture where God does something extraordinary, the immediate crisis reaches its conclusion, and the biblical account moves on. That isn’t a flaw in Scripture. The Bible told us what we needed to know. But sometimes it’s worth standing at the edge of the story for another moment and recognizing something incredibly simple: Their story ended for us. Their life didn’t end for them.

Jairus’s daughter might be one of the clearest examples. When Jairus first came to Jesus, his daughter was dying. He begged Jesus to come. Then, while Jesus was still on the way, the message arrived. “Your daughter is dead.” It was over.

At least, that’s what everyone around Jairus believed.

Jesus continued to the house. People were already mourning. Jesus walked inside, took the girl by the hand, and told her to get up. And she did.

A twelve-year-old girl who’d been dead stood up and started walking around.

Mark tells us everyone was overcome with amazement. Of course they were. What else do you do when the dead girl starts walking?

This is the moment we remember. This is where the sermon usually ends. Jesus has power over death.

Absolutely. But Mark gives us one more little detail. Jesus looked at the parents of the girl He’d just raised from the dead and told them: Give her something to eat.

I love that. A few minutes earlier, death was in the room. Now they’re making dinner.

The extraordinary immediately collided with the ordinary. Jesus had done what only Jesus could do. Now her parents needed to do something they could do. Feed your daughter.

The miracle didn’t eliminate ordinary responsibility. It restored it.

Before Jesus arrived, they couldn’t feed their daughter. They couldn’t comfort her. They couldn’t raise her. They couldn’t fix what had happened. They’d reached the end of what human effort could accomplish.

Jesus stepped into that place and did what they couldn’t. But after He did, He handed responsibility right back to them.

Now you can feed her. So feed her.

We spend a lot of time praying for the moment when everything changes. God, heal this. God, restore this. God, open this door. God, deliver me from this. God, bring my child home. God, save my marriage. God, give me another chance.

Those are good prayers. But sometimes we become so focused on the miracle that we never think about the morning after it.

What are you going to do if God answers?

What happens after the door opens or the relationship is restored?

What happens after the addiction is broken or the opportunity finally arrives?

What happens after you receive the thing you’ve spent years asking God to give you?

There may still be breakfast to make, work to do, relationships to rebuild, habits to change, consequences to face, or responsibilities waiting for you.

The miracle doesn’t necessarily remove ordinary life. Sometimes it gives ordinary life back to you.

Imagine Jairus waking up the next morning. Scripture doesn’t tell us what happened. We shouldn’t pretend that it does.

We don’t know what his daughter said. We don’t know what breakfast looked like. We don’t know whether Jairus spent the morning staring at her because he couldn’t quite believe she was sitting there. We don’t know. But we know she needed to eat. Jesus made sure of that. And there’s something beautiful hidden inside that tiny instruction. God cares about what happens after the miracle.

Jesus didn’t see the resurrection as the end of His concern for this girl. He noticed that the living girl was hungry. Sometimes we separate the spiritual and the ordinary far more than Jesus does.

We look for God in the resurrection. Jesus also points toward the sandwich.

We look for God in the impossible breakthrough. Jesus also cares about what we’re supposed to do afterward.

There are moments when only God can do what needs to be done. And then there are moments when God’s already done His part and tells us to get up and do ours.

Maybe you’ve been praying for the door to open. Good. But if it opens, walk through it.

Maybe you’ve been praying for restoration. Good. But if restoration comes, start rebuilding.

Maybe you’ve been praying for freedom. Good. But if the chains fall off, learn how to live without them.

Maybe you’ve been praying for another chance. Good. But when tomorrow comes, do something with it.

The miracle may happen in a moment. Living after the miracle can take the rest of your life.

Over the next several messages, we’re going to look at people whose biblical stories reached their ending while their lives continued beyond the edge of the page.

Some walked home healed. Some returned to places where everyone remembered who they used to be. Some survived fires and had to continue serving in Babylon. Some received victories that created entirely new problems. Some were given a tomorrow they never expected to have.

We won’t invent what Scripture doesn’t tell us. Sometimes the answer will simply be: We don’t know. But we can still stand at the end of their stories and recognize that morning came. Because morning always comes eventually.

The crowd goes home. The excitement quiets. The testimony has been told. And you wake up the next day.

Jairus’s daughter was alive. That was the miracle. Then somebody had to feed her. That was life.

Don’t become so focused on waiting for God to change everything that you forget something important: After God changes everything, you still have to live.