You know that awful, quiet place inside where hope seems to run out and everyone else’s voices sound louder than God’s? Jairus and the woman with the bleeding both meet that place—one desperate for a child’s life, the other desperate for her own healing—and both reach for Jesus. Their stories prick something universal: we want to be seen, touched, and made whole when circumstances say “it’s too late.” What does it mean that Jesus stops for the woman’s hidden plea on the way to a public crisis?

In all three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew 9:18–26, Mark 5:21–43, Luke 8:40–56) the scenes are joined: Jairus, a synagogue leader, begs Jesus to heal his daughter; on the way a woman with chronic bleeding reaches out and is healed by touching Jesus’ garment. Mark gives the fullest account (including the Aramaic phrase “Talitha koum”), Luke closely parallels Mark, and Matthew retells the sequence more briefly. All three record the crowd’s scoffing and Jesus’ words to Jairus—“Do not fear, only believe”—and the tender command that brings the girl back to life. (John does not include this paired incident.)

These passages reveal Jesus’ authority over disease and even death, but they reveal something else as well: he refuses to be hurried past private pain. He welcomes both the public and the shame-scattered private plea. He names the woman “daughter,” calls the little girl by name (or speaks directly to her), and invites faith that resists panic. Don’t miss the weight here—this is not display for spectacle but the Kingdom breaking in where people are desperate, messy, and afraid. The challenge: faith must stretch beyond what seems possible. The grace: Jesus meets that stretched faith not with scorn but with touching compassion.

Today, pick one “too late” situation you’ve been carrying—an illness, a strained relationship, a lost dream. For five minutes, sit quietly, breathe, and say to Jesus the words he spoke: “Do not fear; only believe.” Then take one small, concrete step: send a text, make a call, bring a meal, or write a letter. Let your reaching be an act of faith—like the woman’s touch—and trust that Jesus notices, names you, and moves toward life.