Talitha Koum

28th April, 2020

These last six weeks have both gone by in a flash - here and gone as quickly as the birds I notice more than ever in the garden, and as second-hand tickingly slowly as waiting for my sourdough bread to be ready. The world of lockdown is a world of paradox…….beautiful sunny days as plants and trees burst in to bloom, whilst sickness and the dark fear of what might be has also spread its way across the land; furlough, rest and slower days for some and busier than ever squeezed and weighty times for others.

There’s been kindness and generosity and neighbours united whilst we are shutdown and locked down in the middle of virus crisis. Connection in the middle of social isolation. Ways through the seemingly impassible sea of impossibility.

Seedlings of hope peeking their way out through the composted remains of uprooted plants and the past it fruit of another life.

This is the real world that we are waking up to.

It’s not that there isn’t death, or actual loss, or evident heartbreak.

But that there is a sound and a story that is more convincing than the one on the news, than how things at first appear……there must be more, there is hope.

That the awakening that we have all longed for – whether we have known it or not – has been set in motion.

There’s another story of awakening that I just can’t stop thinking about.

It’s the story of when Jairus goes to Jesus and asks him to come and heal his sick daughter – you probably know it – Jesus sets off and along the way heals a few more people and then a messenger comes and says it’s too late  - the girl has died.

Oh how her Dad’s heart must have stopped, his world arrested on hearing that time and sickness had relentlessly left her behind.

But Jesus goes anyway. He walks into a community and a household where life has gone and hope has been lost. Grief and disappointment swirling and hurting…..why was he so slow to turn up? It’s too late Jesus, you’re too late – she’s dead!

And then there is this profound moment. Unswayed by everything and everyone around him, with the girl’s parents, Jesus goes to the room where the girl is lying on her bed; her place of rest, her place of illness and the place where she now lies motionless.

And then. He tenderly – with kindness and compassion and gentleness and care – takes her hand.

And he speaks to her and says, “Talitha koum”

Little girl, wake up

My sister, stand up

Little one, arise.

It’s time to wake up. To breathe in. To get up and live!

He holds her hand, he speaks to her and a miracle happens. Life is restored.

And in this moment, these are his words of life to you too.

It’s time to wake up now. His gentle awakening, his tender touch squeezing reassurance…..Morning is here, the day has begun, there is a new beginning full of possibility.

It’s time to wake up from your slumber – your restorative sleep, your collapse after hard work exhaustion sleep, your boredom nothing better to do sleep, your sick in bed fitful sleep.

Wherever there is loss, where life has gone, when it feels like the clock hands have ticked past the possibility of hopes and dreams fulfilled….it’s not too late. Your purpose is not done, your dreams are not dead, your relationships are not finished. The dormant child-like hopes are not dead. It’s not too late, they were merely sleeping.

If ever there was a time of reversal, of resurrection, of restoration, it is now. Like the colour and life in the canals of Venice and Southampton waters, the clearing and clean air giving way to views of beautiful mountain ranges that have lain beneath the smog. The sound of birdsong, and closeness of creatures usually scared off by the daily hustle…no longer a faint whisper of another world but a discernible song of the impossibly possible. It is a miracle of life restored and hope renewed.

A miracle that you are invited to.

Talitha Koum.

Little one, wake up.

A miracle that begins with connection.

Wherever you are, wherever you lay your head – Jesus is there. He reaches out with tenderness and squeezes his reassurance, his physical, feel-able, (oh how we long for that) tangible presence with you.

He speaks to you with affection. There is no shouting or drama, but gentleness and care. And he speaks with purpose – to the parts of you that even you do not understand. Reminding you of what it looks like to really live, of who and how he made you to be. A call from spirit to spirit that awakens and restores and renews the miracle of life.

The story of awakening is of a father’s love, a journey to find Jesus, a child’s hopes and dreams, potential and promise– seemingly snatched. But then. Jesus turns up. And he changes everything. Death is not final, the end is the beginning, it’s not too late, hope is restored. It’s impossible. And possible.

This is your story if you want it to be. Will you wake up and get up? Awaken and arise? He is gentle and tender, reassuring and kind. But present and waiting for you.

Talitha Koum.