Mark 5:21-43: The woman who bled and Jairus’ daughter

It’s appropriate to begin a Bible study series on the miracles in Mark this time of year. It’s Epiphany. It’s time for the revelation of Christ, and few things will do that better. I mean that with depth. As children know, Jesus’ miracles show us that he is the Son of God, but they do so much more. Jesus urged us to have the faith of a child, not the understanding of one.

Our first study puts the opportunity on full display. Mark 5:21-43 gives us the rich density of a “Markan sandwich.” Mark starts one story, interrupts it with another, and then finishes the first.

Asking for a miracle

Here’s the first piece of bread: A father named Jairus, a synagogue ruler, falls at Jesus’ feet. He’s desperate. “My little daughter is dying,” he says. He’s a dad in anguish. Jesus goes with him. It’s what you do when there’s a 911 call. A crowd sees what’s happening and presses in. It’s like a concert without assigned seats. Everyone’s jostling, wanting to see.

Then Mark gives us the middle of the sandwich. There’s a woman in the crowd who’s been bleeding for 12 years. After many doctors and with her money gone, she had only gotten worse.

The stories are connected. We know it not just from the narrative juxtaposition but also from the careful detail. The girl is 12, and this woman has suffered for 12 years. If you were filming this, you might go back 12 years to the same hospital. In one room, a new father holds his little girl for the first time—pure joy and awe. In another, a woman hears doctors say, “We have no idea. You should go home.” They don’t look connected, but they are.

Suffering is the great equalizer. It brings them both to the same place: the feet of Jesus. You think Jairus would have landed there if it weren’t for this? You think this woman would have? Few things are more effective at bringing us to Jesus’ feet. When we’re weak, we look for strength. When we’re sick, we look for healing. When we realize we’re sinners, we look to Christ for his righteousness.

This woman has her plan: a ninja healing. She’s going to sneak up behind Jesus and touch his clothes. She feels so unclean, ashamed, and alone that she literally can’t face Jesus. She executes her plan. Immediately, the bleeding stops, and she feels it in her body.

Jesus feels it too. He turns around. He looks. “Who touched my clothes?” he says. The disciples are confused. Everyone’s touching him but not with the touch of faith. Jesus keeps looking. She falls at his feet, and the text intentionally says that she tells him “the whole truth.” Jesus stops everything to listen, and he’s not like other listeners. When many people listen, they don’t really listen. They have too much inner noise. Also, they’re not taking it in. They’re thinking of how to respond. Jesus stops and listens to 12 years of pain.

We only sense what that stoppage actually means when Mark completes his sandwich and puts on the last piece of bread. He does it with deep pathos. Jesus speaks to the woman who has poured out her story. His word for her is daughter. Daughter means the whole world to the woman, but at the exact same time, the word means something entirely different to Jairus. Because it’s then that Jairus hears the word daughter for a different reason. “Your daughter is dead. Why bother the teacher anymore?” It is then that he finds out, as we do, that it’s too late. But, of course, that’s the connection. Jesus is, in a sense, too late for everybody. Jesus had been 12 years too late for the woman. The shame had sunk in. Her money was gone. And, clearly, it is too late for Jairus. His daughter was gone.

Answering the call in his time

We have arrived. There, in the mutual interaction of the two stories, we come to a revelation of Jesus. Sometimes, we tritely say, “God is always on time.” It wouldn’t have seemed that way to anybody there. That’s because God is neither late nor on time. He is beyond time, ruling and using time for our good.

For this woman, now is the time, and Jairus’ 911 call won’t rush it. This is the moment that woman needs to be called daughter. But for Jairus? He can hurry up and wait. Why? We can imagine that Jairus mostly gets what he wants when he wants it. He needs to learn that his status as a religious ruler or religious do-gooder does not get him in with Jesus—it’s faith, only faith. Plus, consider this: When’s the right time to do a resurrection? Exactly. Any time at all.

The point? When it looks like God is doing nothing in your life, he may very well be working everything in you.

Of course, Jairus can’t see any of that yet. All he hears is, “Why bother the teacher anymore?” But Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” Jesus goes to the house. He hears all the mourners and says, “Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep.” They laugh at him. So Jesus puts them all out. Fragile faith needs support. Then comes the most tender moment. Jesus takes the little girl by the hand. I used to imagine that he says it loudly—“Little girl, get up!” —like a command. But you can’t say “little girl” loudly. He takes her hand like a father waking his daughter: “Honey, it’s time to get up.” Death isn’t a big deal to him. “Rise and shine, little one.”

See the stories—they’re all connected to the biggest story of all. Why did Jesus stop the bleeding? Because he bled for the woman. Why did Jesus take the hand of Jarius’ daughter so tenderly, loving Jarius that way? Because he was going to lose the kind touch of his Father when he suffered on the cross for Jarius. Why could Jesus end Jarius’ daughter’s death? Because Jesus took on all death for her—and for us too. Jesus lost everything to give you everything—to end the bleeding in your life, to end all the death in your life, to give you eternal life.

And there is the revelation: Jesus is not slow, as some understand slowness. He is always loving you, perhaps most when it seems like he’s not. And in the end, as you wait, know this: He will give you everything.

Don’t be afraid. Only believe.

This is the first article in a five-part series on Jesus’ miracles in the gospel of Mark.

Author: Jonathan Bourman
Volume 113, Number 1
Issue: January 2026

The Markan sandwich

The gospel of John is known for its use of signs and “I am” statements. The gospel of Matthew is known for its recording of long, vital sermons from Jesus. Luke’s gospel is known for its emphasis on Jesus as the Savior of all people.

One of the literary marks of Mark is the “Markan sandwich.” A Markan sandwich is a literary device where he takes one story, begins telling it, then interrupts it to tell another before finally returning to his original story. The stories interact with and interpret each other.

Read these other examples of this literary mark:

• Mark 6:7-30: Mission of the Twelve and John the Baptist
• Mark 14:1-11: The chief priests plotting Jesus’ death and the woman anointing Jesus