Sun Kwak, “The Gospel Diameter”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gusCHi8Xok

TEXT: Mark 5:21-43

[21] And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. [22] Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet [23] and implored him earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.” [24] And he went with him.

And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. [25] And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, [26] and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. [27] She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. [28] For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.” [29] And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. [30] And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” [31] And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’” [32] And he looked around to see who had done it. [33] But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. [34] And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

[35] While he was still speaking, there came from the ruler’s house some who said, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?” [36] But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” [37] And he allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. [38] They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. [39] And when he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.” [40] And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. [41] Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” [42] And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement. [43] And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

SERMON: “The Gospel Diameter”

Andrew Root was once interviewing people’s personal encounters for a book. And he shares about this single mom by the name of Rachel. Rachel was in her mid-thirties, with a couple children nine and seven, at the time. And as he’s interviewing her, he’s getting one word answers. But he apparently didn’t get the point. He keeps peppering her with more questions. But then, eventually he gets to asking her the question he’s been waiting to ask — Have you ever had an experience where you felt so ministered to, that you felt it was the real presence of Jesus Christ? And there, she stopped giving one word answers and opened up into a story. She shared about how she was a single mom, because she lost her then husband four years ago when he was on a routine business trip. And so, one day, she picks up the phone from a hotel, and she gets the news that her husband is dead. But they need her to identify his body. And it’s in Chicago, so she makes her way over there after dropping her then five and three year old off at her parents’ home. She takes a cab to the morgue, and she doesn’t realize that the cab driver actually parks the car, to stay with her, instead of leaving. She’s taken to a side room. And she’s there, just standing there petrified and unable to move. She was still, she shares, for a minute and a half but in her words, it felt like a day and a half. Megan Devine writes: “In moments of suffering, you need someone to hold your hand while you stand there in blinking horror, staring at the hole that was your life. Some things cannot be fixed; they can only be carried.” And I’m presuming here, she’s just standing there, in blinking horror and staring at the hole that was her life. And so, her husband’s body is wheeled out under a sheet. And just as the sheet is being lifted, she feels a hand on her shoulder. An arm comes around the front with a water bottle. And she turns and realizes that it was the cab driver, who she assumed to be someone random, someone just passing by. But in this moment, she felt so ministered to — that it changed her whole disposition about her next days. That heading to this moment, she didn’t know how she was going to make it through. But somehow, at that moment, she just knew that God was going to take care of her. Even through the surprise means of a touch and the longer than expected stay of a stranger.

Humans have such incredible power to be able to impact each other. We have no idea how much it means to a young mom who’s struggling with all sorts of mom guilt, of a gesture like stooping to the level of her kids who are behaving like kids — to make them feel seen and valued, and not merely tolerated. Or, to simply asking her how she’s doing — like how she’s actually doing. Which is why we lose out as a community when you don’t show up. Because you never know when that touch on the shoulder, that bottle of water, that unexpected stay, that listening ear. We never know what impact it might have on others, because our lives are all intertwined into a greater tapestry that is God’s community. And as we’re going to see, that’s what Jesus does. He brings people together into his story — people of differences, people of extremes. Scot McKnight calls the church the fellowship of difference. And it’s what we see throughout Jesus’ ministry. Even from his birth — Gentile magi and Jewish shepherds, which were cultural elites with religious outcasts. All the way to his death — religious insiders like Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, alongside socially disqualified women like Mary Magdalene. Jesus has this unique way of bringing people diametrically different to come together in the meeting point of the gospel story. And it’s what drives our narrative today, as we spend our third and final week observing this story involving two daughters of God who are intertwined into this narrative after twelve very different years experienced.

As we’ve been unpacking this bit by bit, but this story is a bit of a collision course. There are two stories that are tied and bound together in this interaction with Jesus. You have Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue. And as we learned and unpacked last week, he has a daughter. And she’s twelve. And at the time of him approaching Jesus, she’s about to die. At the very same time, here’s this woman who’s had this condition of incessant menstrual bleeding for these same twelve years. And their stories are so different, and yet, come into convergence. Twelve years ago, you had this family rejoicing over the birth of their daughter. As we noted last week, Luke’s Gospel tells us that she’s their only child. There she was celebrated and loved in the family and in the religious community. And at the very same time, you have this woman who feels something go wrong with her body. And for twelve years, she’s spent all she had on physicians for her seemingly incurable condition. We don’t know when she spent all her money. But it may have been some time. Meaning that she’s not only sick, she’s likely without a place to call home. You put this with the fact that menstruation makes one ceremonially unclean — whatever you think about that, it’s in the Bible, in Leviticus 15. And so, according to her people, she’s not allowed. And so, she’s been outside of her religious community for these twelve years — religious communities like the one Jairus was involved in and had some influence in. All to say, there is no possibility for these two to have their paths cross. Here were the extremities of society, and yet, here their stories intertwine — twelve years of time and a moment with Jesus.

Because you think about what brings them together. It’s suffering, it’s crisis, it’s need. Billy Graham would say — The ground is level at the foot of the cross. And this was the posture of the early church whenever people would gather around the table for the Lord’s Supper. Slave and master, male and female, Jew and Gentile — one person looking to the next, confessing — You need this just as much as I do. And Jesus here brings together these two people, who have had different experiences, for the same allotted time. And for Jairus, who was certainly pressed on time, Jesusmakes him wait. And for this woman, who perhaps wanted invisibility and to go by unnoticed, he makes her his center of attention, and then calls her daughter. Seemingly, Jesus doesn’t give them what they want but of course, knows exactly what they need. And these set of stories is what scholars call the Markan sandwich. Not unique to Mark but a way he uses to bring two stories together, with a little added emphasis, where the middle is the main part. And in this sandwich here from verses 21-43, you have Jairus’ story from verses 21-24. Then, you have it appear again from verses 35-43. In the middle of this sandwich is this socially irrelevant and religiously disqualified woman in verses 24-34. Everyone else would have told Jesus that there is no question — Jairus’ daughter is not only the more desperatesituation, but she’s the more important situation. But Jesus has other ideas. Seemingly, this was Jesus’ way of turning things upside down in his upside down kingdom of grace, reversing the orders of this world.

In the ending of the movie Parasite. And if you haven’t seen it, shame on you. We’re not a church that shames, we’re all grace here. But shame on you, if you haven’t seen the movie. It’s a Korean film from 2019 that won all kinds of awards that year. And one of the main themes that’s played out is the separation of classes in the Korean society. And our resident film expert Josiah can unpack the deeper nuances of the film after the service. But there’s all kinds of visuals of this separation of classes throughout the film. You have the poor who are housed underground in homes where the toilets are oddly elevated — a visual to show that even human excrement is deemed higher than they are. There’s a repeated visual of stairs that represents the hierarchy and the steepness of the climb. But also that filth flows downwardand is kept downward. And all of this is intended to show that there are levels and extremes and sharp distinctions and markers for separation. That there was no place where the poorest of the poor would be able to mingle on the same level with the richest of the rich. But, through some trickery, these extremes come into collision in a home far uphill. Here in this rich family’s home, there are some workers who serve the family — people who cook, people who clean, people who drive, people who tutor. And unbeknownst to this wealthy family, they’re all actually members of the same family. And this family happens to be the lowest of the low in society’s totem pole. But through some deception and trickery, they’ve made it there to earn some money for themselves and to get themselves out of the financial hole they were in.

But in this crazy end scene, it’s a celebration — a birthday party for the son of the wealthy family. He’s an only child, so he’s extra celebrated. And with the chaotic happenings that involve some unexpected violence, the daughter of the poor family is stabbed and bleeding to death. And her situation is obviously urgent. All the while, birthday boy has just fainted due to being in shock. And so, the dad of the wealthy family calls on the dad of the poor family — to drive his son to the hospital. While this dad of the poor family has his dying daughter in his arms. It makes absolutely no sense from a logical standpoint — one child about to die and one child in privileged shock. But the director Bong Joon-Ho, what he was expressing was that there’s no empathy because the rich just don’t care about the poor — they’re far too removed from them. And it’s something not just in Korean society but a reality that surfaces wherever extremities lie. This idea of separation being the means for apathy is something that Bryan Stevenson also notes. Stevenson, who authored the book Just Mercy, serves the underprivileged community pro bono, in order to provide them adequate legal defense when they are unjustly charged and to face unjust incarceration. And in a Q&A after a lecture he gave at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC, an audience member asked what would cause the most change, for these underprivileged to be served better. And what they with means and financial aptitude could do from afar. And you would expect him to say something like — Share your resources. Give of your wealth. But that’s not what he said. And his response was immediate — Proximity, is what he said. That proximity creates empathy that otherwise wouldn’t be possible if you were looking on from a distance.

And it reminds me of one of my friends and her story of grace. That for the longest time, she had such a hard time making friends. Because she was afraid that when she drew too near, people would find out things about her and move away from her. But in Jesus, she met someone who when he knew everything about her didn’t move away from her but rather drew nearer to her. Because Jesus creates this community around him, not just by bringing people together. But in him drawing near to his people, even at the cost of his life. And note something here in our passage. We noted that in this moment of desperation, these two people of difference with Jairus and this bleeding woman — they have their stories merged together in Jesus. And when you examine their respective actions, you actually see parallel postures. You look at verse 22, and you what you get is Jairus who’s said to fall at Jesus’ feet. And then, with this woman in verse 33, we’re told that she likewise was said to fall before Jesus. And this forever links them together in this interwoven story. That the community of Jesus is formed through a people who aren’t adequate and proper or with much to offer. But it’s formed through the union of those who fall at his feet.

For in the community of God, our plot lines converge not when we profess our competencies but rather our lack, our common need for Jesus. And I don’t know about you, but 2025 has been a hard year for me. And I know for a fact that it’s been an exponentially harder year for some of you. And I’m so glad we’re here together, to share Jesus and the hope we have in him. In 2025, I’ve experienced some overdue ministry fatigue, I’ve seen people I love suffer and then die. Some who I walked with every step of the way and some I wish I could have been there for more than I had. And it’s been really taxing. But you know? It’s also been incredible. Because when God’s people hurt, the community becomes like velcro — we just stick to each other. Something about the pain, something about the suffering, something about the sadness. It makes tough guys cry, and it makes tight-fisted hoarders give. God really uses these moments to build the church together and more firmly pressed together. As we fall on our knees, in our needs before Jesus.

There’s this story of a mustard seed. And it’s not the parable we find in the Gospels, it’s actually a Buddhist story. But bear with me here — I’m not going off the rails, I’ll bring it back to Jesus. The story involves a mom who was grieving the loss of her son. He was playing outside nearby the house, and he suddenly drops dead. And so, she’s so distraught that she has him attached to her body everywhere she goes. The neighbors get so worried about her that they send her to the Buddha, to get some answers. And so, she goes to him, and she tells him about her grief and immense sadness. And what he then tells her is that she needs to find a house to borrow a mustard seed — but it can only be from a house that has never experienced sadness. And so, she goes house to house, and she’s asking for this mustard seed. But of course, she never gets that mustard seed, because everyone has their sad story to share. And so, she doesn’t get this mustard seed but amasses these stories of sadness. And there, she begins to experience healing through this community who have also felt sadness and experienced deep grief.

There’s so much healing that happens when you know that you’re not alone. And in this case, that there are others who understand. That in fact, everyone gets sad and has experienced sorrow, even deep sorrow. But do you want to know how Christianity gives the best and most unbreakable hope? Because in understanding our common pain, in falling at the feet of Jesus. It leads us to something — that Jesus creates this community, not only because he assembles us together. But because he’s a part of the community. That he’s not only who merely brings people of suffering together. But he enters in and joins and ultimately takes the place of our ultimate suffering to bring us deepest community. For he’s met us in our needs, and he’s met us in our tears. And he’s met us in our deepest, darkest brokenness. For wasn’t it Jesus who had his blood shed in order to be outcasted from the community of God, where he would be crying out — My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Where in Hebrews 13:11-12, we’re told that he was cast outside the city gates as the one sacrificed and outcasted for us? And while he takes Jairus’ daughter’s hand while asleep, wouldn’t it be Jesus who would lose his Father’s hand on the cross, when dying for our sins in the ultimate death? We come together and are joined when falling before Jesus. But we are permanently tied together when we see Jesustaking our place.

In our crisis, in our need, we come week by week to see Jesus, to be reminded of our forgiveness, and to have his healing hands pressed upon our souls. For in Jesus, we not only have the common place where the extremities of society are gathered. But in Jesus, we have the one who bridged heaven and earth, who stepped into the eternal divideof sinful and holy. In Jesus, we have the only means where a sinful people are able to come into interaction with a holy God. Because of his gospel of grace so generously offered to us. And so, we who come around Jesus, even the most distant from one another come together from the very edges of this gospel diameter. For in the center is a greater gravitational pull than the very things that push us further away from one another. For in Jesus, we have one who’s drawn near. And in spite of our sins and rebellion and what we know is ugly inside, he doesn’t leave but stays. “In moments of suffering, you need someone to hold your hand while you stand there in blinking horror, staring at the hole that was your life. Some things cannot be fixed; they can only be carried.” Because this community is built when we see our Savior King who carried the cross, who grips our hands. That when we feel our grip on the rope loosen, we are assured that the grip is stronger on the other side of the rope. Because he holds us and he holds us together. For this gospel diameter is as far as east is from the west. This is what the end of Ephesians 3 says about God’s love. And it’s what Psalm 103 says about God forgetting our sins. Because the love of God is for those who admit to our sins and our need for him. And he promises that he remembers not our sins but the outstretched arms of Jesus — east to west on the cross, gathering a people of difference to him. Those he would never let go, because it’s a community he not only formed but promises to never leave.