Then He took the child by the hand and said to her “Talitha, cumi”…

 

 

I was between twelve and thirteen years of age when I decided to trust Jesus Christ as my Saviour and Lord.  That’s around fifty years ago now.  Yes, I know, prehistory.  Before smartphones, ipads, Google, microwave ovens and means I was even born before television (in my country at least). 

The road’s been long and winding with many painful valleys and breathtaking mountains along the way, and yes I’ve had a few regrets, but I have never regretted that youthful, life defining decision. 

The story of the twelve year old girl Jesus raised from the dead has always touched me deeply because we were both the same age when Jesus came and found us in our sad circumstances.

This is for you, talitha.

 

What ancient hands are these

That rest upon my brow

Softly caressing my forehead

Soothing and cool

So much more welcome

Than the molten fever

Who’s burning fingers pressed

Without relent

Merciless and cruel

Stealing away my strength

 

What gentle voice is this

Invading my twilight

Echoing down hallowed halls of time

Bidding me return

Wooing me with promises

Of songs yet unsung

Memories yet unwritten

Of life and joy

And love and sorrows

Waiting still to come

 

What eternal breath is this

That floats across my face

And serenades my sleeping soul

To quicken and awake

What fragrance this

That floods me now

Reviving all my senses

And speaks to me

Of hidden things

Mysterious and sacred

 

What dancing eyes are these

Smiling back into my own

Older than the ages

Younger than the dawn

Reflecting life to all my parts

As one who is reborn

How warm their quiet greeting

Irresistible their gaze

The eyes of One I’ve never met

That somehow know my name

 

I had a dream of somewhere close

Where pain and sorrow are unknown

And truth and mercy meet as one

And waking I beheld my dream

Within my Healer’s Face

A child I am, but still I know

I’d travel over all the earth

To hear that voice and know that touch

To gaze upon that Face again

No cost could be too much

 

Taken from Mark 5:35-43 

©Cheryl McGrath, Bread for the Bride, 2012