Mark 5:21-24 “When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him while he was by the lake. Then one of the synagogue rulers, named Jairus, came there. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, ‘My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.’ So Jesus went with him.”

Death is the big enemy we can’t seem to beat. We can hold it off for a while, but eventually it is going to win. As a professor of mine used to say, “The death rate has remained constant through all human history: one per person.” In his letter to the Corinthians Paul described it this way: “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:26). Death had come knocking at the home of a man named Jairus, and it posed a challenge to his faith.

Throughout the gospels, the men who were leaders in the synagogues were generally against Jesus. They didn’t support his ministry. As such a leader in his synagogue, Jairus was likely a relatively wealthy and respected man. If anyone in town had the resources and access to get his daughter the best possible care, it would be him.

But none of that had worked. The unrelenting approach of his daughter’s death drove Jairus to Jesus to seek his help. He knew about the miracles Jesus had been performing. By this time everyone did. Jesus was his last hope, and time was running out.

There are no atheists in foxholes, they say. A number of years ago I read in article in which an atheist scientist described how his atheistic mother who was dying of cancer would call out to God and ask him “why” in the worst of her pain. When it passed, she would wonder why she did that because he didn’t believe in God. The imminent threat of death can move even hardened unbelievers to pray.

And death is never very far away. We have medical know-how that is unequaled in history–chemicals, compounds, machines, devices, and knowledge that have added almost 30 years to the average person’s life over the last 100 years. But each time we cure one disease, it seems like three new ones pop up. Each new mass shooting, each new natural catastrophe, every report of a fatal accident, every terrorist attack is a reminder that I or someone I love might not make it home alive today.

The third stanza of the hymn I Walk in Danger All the Way reminds us, “Grim death pursues me all the way; Nowhere I rest securely. He comes by night, he comes by day, And takes his prey most surely.” You don’t have to be sick to know it’s just a matter of time.

Like Jairus, then, we need to realize how weak and helpless we are in the face of death. We need to be aware that our time is short. We need to let it drive us to Jesus as our only hope, our only help. Like the old standard prayer for those who mourn a death, we need to let it “teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain hearts of wisdom and finally be saved.”