Mark 5:21-28

²¹ When Jesus had crossed over [in the boat] again to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. ²² Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet ²³ and pleaded with him repeatedly, “My little daughter is in her last moments. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be rescued, and live.” ²⁴ So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. ²⁵ And there was a woman who had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years. ²⁶ She had been put through much suffering under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but grew worse instead. ²⁷ She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his coat, ²⁸ for she said, “If I only touch his clothes, I will be rescued.”

the right rescuer

Both of these people—Jairus and the woman—came to Jesus with the same desperate longing: rescue. Jairus came pleading for his daughter’s life. The woman came pleading for her own. Their circumstances were different, but their need was the same. And both of them, in their moment of deepest fear, found themselves drawn to the only One who could do anything about it.

They were also both people society would have labeled as “rich.” Jairus was a synagogue ruler, a man of influence, a man whose name carried weight. The woman, at least at one point, had enough resources to spend everything she had on doctors and treatments. But her wealth evaporated in the pursuit of healing, and she was left with nothing but disappointment and decline. Jairus still had his status, but none of that mattered when his daughter was dying. Illness does not bow to influence. Death does not respect position. Suffering does not pause for the wealthy.

And that is the quiet truth beneath this story: when life collapses, every earthly advantage becomes powerless. Money cannot stop disease. Influence cannot shield us from grief. Reputation cannot rescue the people we love. In the end, both Jairus and the woman found themselves standing in the same place—empty‑handed, frightened, and in need of mercy.

I once stood beside a father who was facing the death of his young daughter. I remember the ache in his voice, the helplessness in his eyes, the way his whole body seemed to sag under the weight of sorrow. I longed to give him the rescue he needed. I longed to speak a word that would turn back the tide. But I couldn’t. None of us can. There are no guarantees in life, no promises that shield us from loss. But there is one thing we can always say with confidence: coming to Jesus is always the right choice. He may not always rescue in the way we imagine, but He never turns away those who come to Him. He never wastes a cry for help. He never ignores a trembling hand reaching out in faith.

Jairus came to Jesus, and Jesus walked with him. The woman came to Jesus, and Jesus stopped for her. Both found that the Savior is never too busy, never too distant, never too overwhelmed to meet the needs of those who seek Him. And that same Savior invites us to come—not with polished prayers or perfect faith, but with our fears, our griefs, our desperate hopes, and our trembling trust.

LORD, we need rescue, for ourselves and for our loved ones. Teach us to come to You with our fears, to trust You with our burdens, and to rest in the confidence that You are the One who hears, who cares, and who saves.