(Written by Liz Rodrigues and brought to life in Dramatic Presentation @ the Orange County Gospel Fellowship 2013)
The day I saw him, I threw myself at his feet. I worshiped him too. What else does one; a ruler and I have no power to heal my daughter? I saw him in the synagogue; (Mark 1) we were amazed; he spoke like one who had authority not like a teacher of the law.
The man possessed with evil spirits entered the synagogue and he called him by name, Jesus of Nazareth. He question Jesus and asked him if he was the Holy One of God. It happened so quickly; Jesus spoke and a loud shriek was heard; it still echoes in my soul. In a moment; just with a spoken word, this man was free. We were all amazed. A new teaching and he, Jesus, has authority.
So when my daughter was dying I ran to his feet. The crowd was massive but somehow I reached him. I humbled myself before him. I pleaded with him, I had no shame. I’ve seen what he can do. He speaks with authority; even evil spirits obey. I begged, my little girl is dying, come please, put your hands on her and she will live. He begins to walk; it’s just a matter of time and she will be well. And then she, the woman that touched his garment, interrupted us.
The healing that my little girl needed; she took it. She was made whole even as the news that my twelve year old daughter had died. I cried; my head hung in shame. A synagogue ruler, and I have no authority; I can’t even get the teacher to my home in time to save my little girl.
The words of the messengers, don’t bother the teacher, your daughter is dead.
He ignored the messengers. He looked at my distraught face and said, “Don’t be afraid, just believe” He allowed no one to follow except for a few of his disciples. I could barely walk. As I arrived the wailing and crying just confirmed what I already knew. She was gone! He questioned my family and my friends. Why are you crying? She is not dead but just asleep.
How does one go from crying to laughing? But that’s exactly what they did, they laughed in his face. Again he pushed the crowed away and entered my daughter’s room where she laid, cold and dead. He was not afraid to be defiled. He touched her and began to speak. It’s that authority again; I recognize it. So I watched him; Jesus, the One with the power to heal. He told my daughter, “little girl get up”. To my wonder, though she was dead, she awoke and breath came back to her. He must be the Holy One of God! Who else can do miracles?
I remember my daughter’s words: Daddy why does Jesus have to die? Did he not make me live?
God bless you!~Liz