Justin Taylor:
Tim Keller, King’s Cross: The Story of the World in the Life of Jesus
, pp. 67-69, commenting on Mark 5:38-42:
Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement.
Do you think it is odd that when Jesus arrives at Jairus’s house he says that the girl is just sleeping? The parallel account of this story in Matthew and Luke’s Gospels make it clear that Jesus understands she’s dead. She’s not mostly dead; she’s all dead. Then why does he make that reference to sleep?The answer is in what Jesus does next.
Remember, Jesus sits down beside the girl, takes her by the hand, and says two things to her.
The first is talitha. Literally, it means “little girl,” but that does not get across the sense of what he’s saying. This is a pet name, a diminutive term of endearment. Since this is a diminutive that a mother would use with a little girl, probably the best translation is “honey.”
The second thing Jesus says to her is koum, which means “arise.” Not “be resurrected”: it just means “get up.” Jesus is doing exactly what this child’s parents might do on a sunny morning. He sits down, takes her hand, and says, “Honey, it’s time to get up.” And she does.
The rest here.
O’ the gentle yet powerful hand of a Savior who comforts even the dead as he conquers the one who has the power of death.!
“Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil.” (Heb 2:14)
What a wondrous mingling of tenderness and power. Hallelujah, what a Savior.
I love how Jesus is unhurried and unrattled here. Just before going to see the little girl, Jesus wants to stop and see who touched him in the crowd. If I were her father, I would have been beside myself, saying, “We don’t have time for that!! We must get you to my daughter NOW!” But Jesus is as unrattled by death as we are by a slight headache. We’d say, ‘That’s easy to fix. Take a Motrin and get a good night’s sleep.’
For Jesus even death is infinitely easy to fix. Take her hand and say, ‘Honey, get up.’
I love the tenderness.