Fear Not; Only Trust!
Hpoward the close of one of the busiest days which our Lord spent upon earth he was sitting at meat in the house of his disciple Matthew. The crowd of Capernaumites, who had awaited his landing from the opposite shore of the lake, had followed up to Matthew’s house and seem to have lingered about the doors while he was at dinner. Presently a ruler of the synagogue enters the dining-room in great distress, and, throwing himself down at Jesus’s feet, sobs out the words: “Come right to my house. My daughter is dying.”
Sorrow sent him to Jesus. It is very probable that more than one who reads these lines was first led to him from the same motive. It required just that shock to your slumbering heart to arouse you and to make you feel your need of a Divine Friend. The best office which severe trouble can perform for us is to send us to Jesus. Blessed be that blow which startles us into calling on Christ.
The Master rises from the table instantly and accompanies Jairus toward his dwelling. There is a touch of pathos in the word “only.’7 The dying child is an only daughter; the one light of his home is flickering in the socket. That one precious life hangs entirely upon a word from that nrysterious Rabbi, whom he is following along with anxious heart. Presently the crowd halts. Jesus has felt a touch upon the fringe of his robe, as it laid over his shoulder. It was not the bottom of his robe that was grasped by some one bowing to the ground amid the jostling throng. But, slipping up slyly behind him, a wretched woman — half-dead with a loathsome hemorrhage — had just touched the sacred tassel or fringe that hung upon Christ’s shoulder. “Who touched me?” Quick-spoken Peter half rebukes him by telling him that the whole crowd are surging up against him, and the question is preposterous. The eye of Jesus soon falls upon the poor woman whose faith has just stolen a blessing. She drops at his feet and confesses that her trust in his power was so great that she only touched his robe in order to be cured.
In the mean time Jairus is standing still and waiting for the conversation to be ended. It may be that his fatherly anxiety was getting very impatient. But it was a happy halt for him. He witnessed the miracle of healing. He heard the sweet words spoken to the frightened woman: “Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. Go in peace.’7 Here was a lesson to strengthen his own faith. There is a lesson for us too in that incident of our Lord’s stopping on his way to perform one good deed in order to perform another act of love. Many Christians are so wrapped up in one or two favorite schemes of benevolence, which become their “hobbies,” that they have no time or thought for cases of suffering close by them.
Jesus was never idle; neither was he ever in a hurry. He could afford to let that dying girl breathe her last, while he halted to do a kindness to the sad woman who had been bleeding for twelve years.
Up comes a messenger with fatal tidings. He brings the hard fact to Jairus: “Thy daughter is dead.” And then he adds the unfeeling advice: “Don’t bother the Master.” This homely English word expresses exactly what the cast-iron man said to the broken-hearted father. There are just such people in the world now. They smite you with bad news as with a javelin, and then follow the blow with the hackneyed stoicism: “There’s no use in worrying over it.” The child was dead. Why need the poor father ask Jesus to go another step?
Just at this point comes in that coincidence between the trouble of Jairus and the spiritual troubles that beset our souls oft and again. Here comes in the coincidence between that father’s utter helplessness and distress and those very same feelings in the breast of many an anxious seeker for salvation. The soul is tormented with a sense of guilt and feels utterly helpless to relieve itself. The hard fact of guilt and weakness and liability to perish stares him in the face. Unbelief croaks in his ear: “Why bother yourself any longer about religion? Why worry God with bootless prayers?”
And here, too, come in those wonderful words of our dear Master, which have rung like a heavenly bell in the ears of so many a troubled, anxious sinner. I am thankful that the messenger blurted out that blunt message to Jairus. For our Lord overheard it and pronounced those precious words to the sorrowing father: “Fear not; only trust!” It is a pity that our version does not translate the Greek word into the better word “trust,” instead of the more vague one “believe.” What Jesus bade that father do was to trust the dead darling to him, and “she shall be made whole.” We can imagine the ruler as walking the rest of the way with steady step and quiet tongue. Fear may have whispered: “What if he can not do it? It is too good to be true.” Bat faith replies: “All things are possible with him. He has just cured a woman’s twelve years7 sickness in an instant.” So he goes calmly along to the house of death, and calmly up into the chamber where the little corpse is lying. And when Jesus touches the dead hand and exclaims “Talitha cumi!” behold! his faith is swallowed up in sight!
This is a wonderful scene and one of the most inspiring, instructive, and comforting in the whole Book of Divine Love. Those words spoken by Christ to Jairus have been a golden counsel to millions of- inquiring souls and a golden comfort to millions of afflicted saints. Fear not; only trust! The one brings torment; the other brings peace. Doubt always disquiets. Trust calms the troubled heart as Christ’s omnipotent voice calmed Galilee’s tempest into smooth, unruffled silence. Doubt cripples all exertion. A doubting inquirer is not ready either to pray as he ought or to obey as he ought. Faith prompts to pray for help, and then to do what Jesus bids. Doubt dishonors Christ; insults him. Trust takes him at his word and believes that he can save a soul already dead in trespasses and sin. “I found I had nothing to do but trust him/7 said an intelligent convert to her pastor, after many weeks of distress had ended in serene peace. And these words — “Fear not; only trust’7 — were the manna which we gave to a dying friend last week. He said that they prepared him to feel “safe in the arms of Jesus.”
Kind reader, you and I have some hard climbing to do before we reach the top. We must imitate Alpine climbers and keep strong hold of the Guide. Let us take short views. If we look over the precipices, we shall grow dizzy. If we look too far ahead, we shall grow discouraged. Let us rather put our weak hands into Christ’s strong, loving grasp, and all the time listen to his cheering words: “Fear not; only trust 1”