Introduction
Will you keep following Jesus when obedience feels unsafe, the timeline feels wrong, and your heart asks, “Do You even care?” The central lesson in Mark 5:21–43 is that Jesus is not “safe” in the way our comfort-craving hearts want, but He is unmistakably good, His unmatched power is always joined to His compassion, and He calls me to surrender, trust, and go public with faith even in impossible circumstances. Mark has been giving us a string of real-life “parable-like” stories, earthly scenes that carry heavenly truth. After the parables of Mark 4, we watched Jesus lead His disciples into storm, fear, and the display of His authority. Now, before we pause Mark for Advent, we reach a fitting “grand finale” to the journey so far: two intertwined scenes where Jesus’ authority over sickness and death collides with the deeper question every suffering soul asks, does He care?
Like the Narnia line about Aslan, “Safe? … of course he isn’t safe. But he is good.”, Mark is showing me that following the King means entering places I would rather avoid. Yet in those very places, I learn the goodness of Christ.
Main Points
Will you keep following Jesus when obedience feels unsafe, the timeline feels wrong, and your heart asks, “Do You even care?” The central lesson in Mark 5:21–43 is that Jesus is not “safe” in the way our comfort-craving hearts want, but He is unmistakably good, His unmatched power is always joined to His compassion, and He calls me to surrender, trust, and go public with faith even in impossible circumstances.
Mark has been giving us a string of real-life “parable-like” stories, earthly scenes that carry heavenly truth. After the parables of Mark 4, we watched Jesus lead His disciples into storm, fear, and the display of His authority. Now, before we pause Mark for Advent, we reach a fitting “grand finale” to the journey so far: two intertwined scenes where Jesus’ authority over sickness and death collides with the deeper question every suffering soul asks, does He care?
Like the Narnia line about Aslan, “Safe? … of course he isn’t safe. But he is good.”, Mark is showing me that following the King means entering places I would rather avoid. Yet in those very places, I learn the goodness of Christ.
Following Jesus Beyond “Be Safe”
Our culture trains us to treat safety as the highest good: avoid danger, avoid discomfort, avoid anything that might shake us. But Mark’s story confronts that instinct. Jesus repeatedly brings people (and disciples) into fearful situations, storms, demons, suffering, and now disease and death.
This is not a marketing-version of Christianity where church is merely fun, branded, and emotionally safe. In Mark 4–5 the recurring atmosphere is intense fear, not because Jesus is cruel, but because His holy authority disrupts everything. The question isn’t mainly, “Can God deliver?” The deeper question we all carry is, “Does He care?” (implied from Mark 4:38: “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?”)
I need this framing because it prepares me to interpret the next scenes correctly: Jesus’ power is never detached from His compassion, and discipleship means learning trust inside the very places I want to avoid.
Desperate Surrender At Jesus’ Feet
When Jesus returns by boat to the Jewish side, a great crowd gathers (Mark 5:21). Then a synagogue ruler named Jairus falls at Jesus’ feet and begs for his dying daughter (Mark 5:22–23). Notice the repeated pattern across these stories: people fall down before Jesus. Real surrender often rises not from my “good-natured volunteer heart,” but from desperate circumstances that expose how little control I really have.
Jairus’ request is as raw as it gets: “My little daughter lies at the point of death… lay Your hands on her, so that she may be healed, and she will live” (Mark 5:23). And then comes a quiet but stunning answer: “So Jesus went with him” (Mark 5:24).
That action speaks loudly to the question “Do You care?” Jesus doesn’t merely give a theological lecture; He goes with the suffering father. When I’m at the end of myself, one of the clearest evidences of Christ’s compassion is that He draws near and walks with me.
Faith In The Perfect Healer
On the way to Jairus’ house, Mark gives an “interlude” story: a woman suffering a flow of blood for twelve years (Mark 5:25). She has suffered under many physicians, spent all she had, and only grew worse (Mark 5:26). This is another impossible circumstance, human solutions fail, money cannot purchase healing, and the affliction continues.
She hears about Jesus, comes behind Him in the crowd, and touches His garment saying, “If I touch even His garments, I will be made well” (Mark 5:27–28). Immediately she is healed (Mark 5:29).
There’s a discipleship lesson here: her faith is imperfect (she attaches hope to the hem of His clothing), but it is faith directed toward the right Person. It is not “perfect faith” that saves; it is faith in the perfect Savior. Even mustard-seed faith, placed in Christ, reaches the One who truly heals.
And I must reject the counterfeit forms of “relic faith” that still exist today, treating objects as if they carry magical power. Jesus is not a commodity; He is the living Lord.
Jesus Restores The Unclean Publicly
This woman isn’t just physically suffering; she is socially and religiously isolated. On that side of the lake, her condition marks her as unclean, cut off, ashamed, and likely lonely. That helps explain why she tries to be healed quietly and disappear back into the crowd.
But Jesus stops and asks, “Who touched My garments?” (Mark 5:30). The disciples think it’s a ridiculous question because the crowd is pressing in (Mark 5:31). Yet Jesus isn’t confused or threatened; He is doing something more compassionate than a “drive-by healing.” He looks around so the woman will come forward, tell the whole truth, and be restored openly.
She comes “in fear and trembling” and falls down before Him (Mark 5:33). Then Jesus speaks identity and peace: “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease” (Mark 5:34).
Jesus doesn’t only bring her body back to neutral; He brings her whole life back into the light, restored to God and to community. This is where discipleship gets personal: I often want private help and quick relief, but Jesus loves me too much to leave me hidden. His pattern is confession, restoration, and belonging.
That’s why the normal “next step” of gospel mercy is not secrecy but obedience that can be seen: confession, baptism, and life in the body of Christ (implied from the sermon’s exhortation). Jesus doesn’t merely patch my pain; He claims me as family.
God’s Delays And The Temptation To Despair
While Jesus is still speaking to the woman, messengers arrive from Jairus’ house: “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?” (Mark 5:35). Those words are more than an update; they are a spiritual temptation: Stop bothering Jesus. It’s over.
I need to name this temptation because it’s common in suffering. When the situation crosses from “hard” into “impossible,” despair whispers that prayer is pointless and hope is naïve. The scene also exposes how we judge urgency: Jairus is “on the clock,” and Jesus appears unhurried. It can feel like an injustice, like watching someone else get helped first when you believe your need is more urgent.
But Jesus is not anxious, not panicked, and not limited by what limits me. His compassion for one sufferer is not neglect of another. He is writing a deeper story than my timeline can interpret.
Do Not Fear, Keep Believing
Jesus immediately speaks to Jairus: “Do not fear, only believe” (Mark 5:36). The sermon captured the force well: Do not be afraid, keep believing. Keep believing what you believed when you first fell at His feet. Keep believing when the situation moves beyond your categories of “fixable.”
This is where discipleship becomes a lived decision. Faith is not denial; faith is refusing to let fear become my master. Jesus is calling Jairus, and me, to trust His goodness when everything looks like finality.
And this is the “unsafe” goodness of Jesus: He will bring me to the end of myself so I stop negotiating for control, and instead rest in His character. He is dangerous to my pride, my self-reliance, and my demand for a predictable life, but He is good, and His goodness is not theoretical. It walks with me into the darkest rooms.
Conclusion
Mark 5 is not merely a showcase of Jesus’ authority over sickness and death; it is a discipling invitation to trust the heart of God. Jairus shows me surrender when I’m desperate. The bleeding woman shows me that even imperfect faith can reach a perfect Savior, and that Jesus restores the ashamed and isolated publicly with peace and belonging. And the delay, followed by the dreadful words “she is dead”, exposes how quickly my heart is tempted to stop bothering God.
Yet Jesus’ word stands: “Do not fear, only believe” (Mark 5:36). He may not be “safe” by my modern definitions, but He is good. His power is real, and His compassion is deeper than I imagine. So I will follow Him, through fear, through tears, and through the places where only His presence can sustain me.
Lord Jesus, I confess how often I want a version of discipleship that feels safe, controlled, and private. Forgive me for measuring Your care by my timeline and my expectations. Teach me to surrender at Your feet like Jairus, and to reach for You in faith like the suffering woman. When delays tempt me to despair, speak Your word into my heart: “Do not fear, only believe.” Restore what is broken in me, heal what You will, and give me peace that is deeper than circumstances. Make me willing to go public with obedience, to live in Your community, and to trust that You are not only powerful, you are good. Amen.
Conclusion
Mark 5 is not merely a showcase of Jesus’ authority over sickness and death; it is a discipling invitation to trust the heart of God. Jairus shows me surrender when I’m desperate. The bleeding woman shows me that even imperfect faith can reach a perfect Savior, and that Jesus restores the ashamed and isolated publicly with peace and belonging. And the delay, followed by the dreadful words “she is dead”, exposes how quickly my heart is tempted to stop bothering God.
Yet Jesus’ word stands: “Do not fear, only believe” (Mark 5:36). He may not be “safe” by my modern definitions, but He is good. His power is real, and His compassion is deeper than I imagine. So I will follow Him, through fear, through tears, and through the places where only His presence can sustain me.
Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus, I confess how often I want a version of discipleship that feels safe, controlled, and private. Forgive me for measuring Your care by my timeline and my expectations. Teach me to surrender at Your feet like Jairus, and to reach for You in faith like the suffering woman. When delays tempt me to despair, speak Your word into my heart: “Do not fear, only believe.” Restore what is broken in me, heal what You will, and give me peace that is deeper than circumstances. Make me willing to go public with obedience, to live in Your community, and to trust that You are not only powerful, you are good. Amen.