The Faith That Waits in the Room

There’s a story in Mark 5 that gets a lot of attention.

Jairus, a synagogue leader, falls at Jesus’ feet. His daughter is dying. He pleads with Jesus to come. The crowd is pressing in. And in the middle of it all, Jesus stops to heal someone else. By the time they arrive at Jairus’s house, the worst news has already come.

Your daughter is gone.

But Jesus keeps going. He tells Jairus not to be afraid, just to believe. And then something happens that often gets overlooked.

“He did not let anyone follow Him except Peter, James and John...
When they came to the home of the synagogue leader... He took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with Him, and went in where the child was.”
—Mark 5:37, 40 (NIV)

Her mother was there.

She’s not named. She never speaks. She isn’t quoted.
But she’s in the room. In the moment. In the miracle.

While Jairus ran out to find help, she stayed home. She sat beside her daughter, helpless to fix it. She heard the breathing slow. She watched the color fade. And when death came, she didn’t leave. She stayed.

And when Jesus arrived, she was invited in.

She stood in the room, not with answers, but with presence.
She didn’t bring the miracle. But she was there when it happened.

Sometimes faith doesn’t look like bold declarations or big prayers.
Sometimes faith looks like staying in the room.

Staying when your heart is breaking.
Staying when it feels hopeless.
Staying when you have no idea what Jesus will do, but you’re still holding space for Him to do it.

You may not be the one who fixes it.
You may not be the one who runs out to get help.
But your faith, your presence, your willingness to stay near the pain matters.

And Jesus invites you in too.

He is still entering rooms where grief has settled in.
Still speaking life where things feel lost.
Still raising what looks like it’s over.

And sometimes, He lets you witness it simply because you stayed.

A Simple Prayer

Lord, thank You for seeing the ones who stay in the room. The ones who don’t have the words but still choose to hold on. Help me to remain faithful in the waiting. Even when I don’t understand, help me trust that You’re still coming. And when You do, let me be found close.
Amen.