Trusting God’s Pace
This week I found myself going back to a story I’ve taught before. Not because I was studying for something. Just because it came back to me. One of those moments where something you’ve said before starts speaking back to you in a different way. It’s the story of Jairus in Mark 5.
I remember teaching it from the angle of urgency. A father coming to Jesus with nothing left but hope. His daughter is dying, and he doesn’t have time to waste. When Jesus agrees to go with him, it feels like the story is moving in the right direction. That’s how I taught it. But I don’t think I paid enough attention to what happens in the middle.
On the way to Jairus’ house, Jesus stops. A woman reaches out to Him, and instead of continuing on, He turns and gives her His full attention. He listens. He stays there. He lets that moment unfold. And Jairus just stands there. I’ve read that part plenty of times. I’ve taught through it. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt it quite like I do now.
There’s something about being in a season where you’re waiting on your own body to heal that changes how you read a story like that. It slows everything down. It makes you more aware of time. Of pace. Of the fact that things don’t always move as quickly as you want them to.
Healing, at least for me, hasn’t been dramatic. It hasn’t been a sudden return to normal. It’s been steady, uneven, sometimes frustrating. You take a few steps forward, then you realize you’re not quite where you thought you’d be. And there’s not much you can do to speed it up. That’s what I see in Jairus now.
He’s not being ignored. Jesus is still with him. But the pace is not what he needs it to be. And in that moment, he has no way to change it. Then the message comes that his daughter is gone. That’s the part that sits heavy. Because now the waiting isn’t just uncomfortable. It feels like it cost him something.
And right there, Jesus says, “Be not afraid, only believe.” No explanation. No reason given for the delay. Just those words.
I’ve come to realize that belief in moments like that doesn’t feel strong. It’s not loud or confident. It’s quieter than that. It’s the decision to stay with Jesus even when the timeline doesn’t make sense. That’s been the kind of trust I’ve been learning lately. Not the kind that looks ahead and sees everything working out, but the kind that stays present and keeps walking, even when progress feels slow.
Galatians says not to grow weary in doing good, because in due season there will be a harvest if we don’t give up. I’ve always liked that verse. But I don’t think I’ve felt the weight of “due season” the way I do now. There’s a timing to things that I don’t control. Healing has its own pace. And it doesn’t adjust itself to my expectations. But that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.
Jairus had to stand in that space where everything felt delayed, where the outcome looked worse before it got better, where he had to decide if he was still going to trust Jesus without any clear evidence that things were turning around. And Jesus was still moving toward him. That’s what I keep coming back to.
Not trying to rush the process. Not trying to force the outcome. Just learning what it looks like to trust God in a pace I didn’t choose. Because sometimes the hardest part of faith isn’t believing that God can do something. It’s believing that He’s still at work when it feels like everything has slowed down.
