First Reading - 2 Samuel 18:9-10, 14, 24-25, 30-19:3
Gospel - Mark 5:21-43
There are moments in life when love and loss collide, when hope rises and falls almost at the same time. In those moments, faith is stretched between trust and pain, between waiting and surrender. Today’s readings bring us into that deeply human space and reveal a God who meets us not only in victory, but also in grief and vulnerability.
The First Reading tells the heartbreaking story of Absalom’s death. David’s reaction is raw and unfiltered. He weeps, crying out again and again for his son. This is not the voice of a king, but of a father whose heart is shattered. David does not hide his grief, nor does Scripture soften it. Even though Absalom had rebelled against him, David’s love remains. Grief here is not weakness; it is love laid bare.
This reading reminds us that faith does not shield us from sorrow. Loss still hurts, even when we trust God. Scripture gives us permission to grieve honestly, without pretending that everything is fine. God does not ask us to suppress pain, but to bring it into the light.
The Gospel presents another pair of deeply emotional encounters. Jairus comes to Jesus desperate for his dying daughter, and a woman suffering for years reaches out in quiet hope. Both are powerless by worldly standards. One is respected and public, the other hidden and unnamed. Yet both approach Jesus with faith that risks vulnerability.
In both cases, Jesus does not rush past their pain. He pauses. He listens. He touches. He speaks words of reassurance. The woman is restored not only physically, but socially and spiritually. Jairus is told not to fear, only to believe. Even when death seems final, Jesus brings life.
Dear friends, there is the faith that cries out in grief, like David. And there is the faith that reaches out in hope, like Jairus and the woman. God receives both.
Many people carry unspoken grief while still longing for healing. Others feel caught between loss they cannot change and hope they barely dare to hold. Today’s word assures us that God meets us in both places.
The invitation today is to bring everything to God: the tears, the fear, the fragile hope. Do not assume that faith means having no pain. Faith means trusting God enough to show up honestly.
When grief is acknowledged, it begins to heal. When hope is expressed, even quietly, it opens the door to grace. And when we place our brokenness into the hands of Christ, we discover that even in moments of loss, God is still at work, restoring life, dignity, and hope in ways deeper than we expect.
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