Suddenly she began running around the boarding area,
calling her son’s name. Evidently she had just discovered her toddler was gone. “Billy! Billy!” Within a few seconds she hit
full panic-mode. She began to scream: “My little boy is gone! He’s two years
old with blond hair! BILLY! BILLY!”
Some people stood up and began looking for the boy.
The mother continued to run randomly around the room, crying out for her son. Within a
few minutes a police officer appeared, and shortly thereafter the boy was
found. He had wandered around the corner and was engrossed in playing with a toy.
His mom sobbed as she hugged him to her chest.
I bet she didn’t care that she looked out of control. Getting
him back, safe and sound, was all she cared about.
When you’re desperate, propriety and convention go out the window. Who
cares if you look like a raving lunatic, if you get the help you need?
Every time I think of that woman, it reminds me of the story
of Jairus in Mark 5. He was the desperate father who came to Jesus because his
little girl was near death.
He fell at Jesus’ feet and begged Him: My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay
your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live (v. 24).
I wonder how he said those words. Did they come out in a
rushing sob? Had he rehearsed them so much that he spoke them woodenly, like a
man in a daze? Or was he so filled with determination that he said them, not as
an entreaty, but as a command?
And did he imagine Christ’s possible responses to his plea?
Would Jesus ignore him? Turn away with a sad expression that said, “Too
late. Sorry.” Would the Lord refuse to help him at all?
Whatever scenario he had played out in his mind, his heart must have soared with what Jesus actually did. Christ didn’t say a word. He
just dropped everything and went with the desperate father (v. 24).
Desperate people were always interrupting Jesus. A leper (Mark 1:40-42), a Gentile mother (Mark 7:25-30), the father whose son was demonized (Mark 9:14-28), blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52). And the Lord always had time for them.
I admire and love Jesus because He cares for weak, frightened, lonely, desperate people who hope against hope that somebody will help them, who have no other hope but Him. People like you and me.
