Healing on Both Sides of the Lake

A Tale of Two Daughters

In Mark 5, there's this striking little moment—a woman sneaks up behind Jesus, touches his clothing, and Jesus feels power go out from him. Almost as if he's some kind of healing battery, transferring divine energy through a touch. But really, what Mark is doing here is weaving something much more profound. He's laying out two stories side by side: one of a woman who has suffered for years and another of a young girl from a respected household. Two daughters, two lives, two radically different places in society. And yet, Mark places them in the same breath.

Returning to Familiar Shores

After his encounter across the lake—in the Gentile regions of the Sea of Galilee—Jesus returns to the Jewish side. This time, the sailing is smooth. A crowd is waiting, and immediately we meet Jairus, a leader in the synagogue. Think of him as the chair of the board at Commons. He’s popular, respected, influential—likely a Pharisee-adjacent figure, part of the system but not beholden to the rigid images we might associate with it.

And Jairus doesn’t come with arrogance. He falls at Jesus’ feet, pleading for his daughter. This is not about status; this is about love. About desperation. And Jesus agrees to go with him.

An Unexpected Interruption

But then, the story pauses. As the crowd presses in, a woman who has been bleeding for twelve years reaches out, hoping just to touch the edge of Jesus' robe. And there's nuance here. She has been through it—suffering not just physically but emotionally, spiritually, likely even financially. The Greek in verse 26 can be translated to say she "suffered from many healers," suggesting she's been exploited, not helped.

Her hope rests in an old prophecy—Malachi 4: the Son of Righteousness will rise with healing in his kanaf, or wings. Jewish tradition held that the kanaf included the tassels of a rabbi's robe. So she reaches out to this hope, this rumor, this whisper of healing.

And it works. Power moves. Healing happens. Jesus feels it. He stops.

Daughter, You Are Seen

He asks, "Who touched me?" The disciples are incredulous—everyone is touching him. But Jesus insists. And the woman, knowing she can’t stay hidden, comes forward. She’s trembling. And then Jesus says something remarkable: "Daughter, your faith has healed you."

Daughter.

The same word used for Jairus’ child. In one word, Jesus elevates this woman—marginalized, isolated, forgotten—to the same beloved status. Her faith, not her pedigree, is what matters. She is not an interruption. She is the story.

Grace Is Not a Zero-Sum Game

While all this unfolds, word comes that Jairus' daughter has died. Too late, it seems. But Jesus doesn’t panic. He simply says, "Don’t be afraid; just believe."

And so, healing comes again. A second daughter is restored. But this time, it’s framed in the broader tapestry Mark is weaving: a God who calms storms, crosses boundaries, sees the unseeable, and restores what seems lost.

The Whole Arc of Grace

Each of these four stories around Lake Kinneret shows us a different facet of Jesus: calming chaos, confronting oppression, honoring interruption, and fulfilling hope. Any of these could stand alone. But together, they challenge us.

Because it's easy to see grace in the dramatic—a storm stilled or a demon cast out. It's harder when it's close to home. When it asks us to pause for the person clawing through the dirt just to be seen. When it means making room for grace not just over there but here.

So yes, there is grace for the man on the other side of the lake. But just as importantly, there is grace here—for your neighbor, for your estranged uncle, for your trans nephew who makes you uncomfortable.

The grace that calms storms and overthrows Legions? It’s the same grace that stops everything to affirm the dignity of one woman. It's the grace that heals daughters on both sides of the lake.

Let that be the grace that reshapes how we see our homes, our cities, our communities—our very selves.