They went directly to Jairus. "Your daughter is dead," they said bluntly. "There is no need to further trouble the teacher." The utter lack of sensitive propriety appalled Jesus. Jairus caught his breath. Stunned and confused, he turned to leave. He looked at his wife, now a stranger. He healed her with the merest unconscious touch. Why couldn't he . . ?

The woman looked on, not quite grasping what was happening. And then, in an involuntary action, she cried, "Jairus! God be praised! Do not despair. Only believe. As he loved me, so also he loves you! As he loves you, so also he loves our daughter!" Still on her knees, her hand flew to her mouth as if she were surprised at her own words. She glanced at Jesus, who laid his hand on her head and smiled.

"Jairus," Jesus said, "Ignore these men. Believe your wife's witness. Your daughter will be healed."

The men glowered at Jesus. "You are a cruel prophet," they declared. "You give this man false hope. His daughter is dead. There is nothing anyone can do about that. The sooner our synagogue ruler accepts that, the sooner he can go on with his life and the better our place of worship will be run."

The grieving father looked at Jesus with tentative eyes. "Come," said Jesus. "Let us go to her." We all started to follow. The crowd surged with us.

On arrival at the house of Jairus, Jesus halted yet again, "Wait!" he commanded, "I want no one with me except Jairus." And then pointing to Peter, James and John, he said, "You three come as well." Then he paused, observing the mother and spoke quietly to her, "You come, too." With prescient anticipation and hope, she followed the others into the house.

Inside, there was a commotion. Flute players and professional mourners had already been summoned. They beat their breasts and wailed loudly. Jesus, annoyed by this shallow display of grief, said to them, "Stop all this ridiculous commotion and wailing! Why are you carrying on like this? Off with you! This child is not dead. She merely sleeps." The incredulous snickering that followed was filled with contempt and scorn. They knew full well the child was dead. They did not, however, attempt to resist Jesus. His authority and command could not be challenged. They all retreated from inside the house and stood impatiently outside waiting for reality to prove this trickster wrong. No mere magician could bring a dead child back to life.

He took the girl's parents and those he brought with him and entered the child's room. She had lived but twelve summers. Now she lay pale and lifeless on her bed, her lovely life abbreviated, truncated. She would never be a bride; she would never know the joy of holding her infant child to her breast. The awful sense of irreversible finality was enough to break the coldest heart, to embitter the most joyful spirit. But Jesus took her by the hand, stroked her hair and said quietly, "Sweet little Prisca, wake up. You have many summers yet to fill, many winters yet to brighten." Nothing. Long moments passed. Then, gently her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes blinked open, clear and crystal. Abruptly, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. After a moment of orienting her self, she stood. Seeing her father, she ran to his outstretched arms. The raw emotional power of watching father and child holding desperately to one another brought ready tears to everyone's eyes. Even Jesus. The mother, whom Jesus had earlier healed, came and stroked the child's hair and knelt beside their embrace. When the girl saw the woman, she seemed momentarily distant, and then her eyes widened in recognition. "Mama?" she inquired softly. And then "Mama!" she almost screamed; then threw her arms around her mother. They held each other in loving reunion, Jairus looking on. Then he, too, embraced them both. They were together, once again.

The tension broke and Jesus told them to give her something to eat.

Her cheeks wet with glistening tears she whispered to her husband, It is him, Jairus. It is Messiah. I know it. He has come, and we have been touched by the same hand that formed the stars, the hand of love that gives, that brings healing and life . . .

"There is no need to tell anyone of this," said Jesus to the family. "Keep it and cherish it just for yourselves." But as soon as Jesus left the home, outsiders surged in.

In a moment someone came to the door and loudly announced, "She's alive and well! And the mother has returned, healed and clean!" News of what had taken place spread everywhere.

We left the house of Jairus that day warmed with the pleasure and glow of what had happened. Even though Peter, James and John were the only ones among us who were actually present when it occurred, Jesus had done something wondrous and we all felt that we had been a part of it. As we walked, we came upon two men holding on to each other and staring into space. A diminutive girl-child was attempting to guide them toward us. "There he is!" she exclaimed with lights in her voice. "Come!" tugging on them to follow her. She would brook no argument. "Call him, daddy. He can hear you."

Suddenly the older of the two cried out, "Jesus, Son of David! Have mercy on us!" They were thin and gaunt. It was plain that these men, and the girl as well, did not eat very often. They were draped in torn blankets, beards grey and matted. They were a pathetic sight and one not too uncommon in the streets of Capharnaum. The presence of the child, however, arrested our attention. We wondered who she was and what bearing she had with these men. "Shout, Abiud, shout!" said the girl's father. "We must make him stop!"

"Jesus! Lord!" shouted the younger of the two, "Have mercy on us!"

We had arrived at the courtyard of Peter's home. But on hearing these cries, Jesus stopped yet again. He looked weary. "Bring them inside," he said and entered the door. When the two men were brought to him, he asked them, "Do you believe that I am able to give you back your sight? Do you actually believe I can give you new eyes?"

The girl nodded her head affirmatively, tears in her eyes. The men replied without hesitation, "Yes, Lord, we do believe that." The odor of their unwashed bodies filled the room.

"What is your name, child?"

"Damaris, sir." She looked at Jesus and smiled sweetly. "I know who you are. You have come from God our Father."

"How is it you know about this?" he smiled. "And how is it you lead about these two men?"

"This is my daddy, sir, and this is my uncle. Their eyes were cut out by Roman soldiers." She did not answer his first question.

Jesus offered an explanation. "Sometimes a child knows things adults do not," said he.

Jesus placed a hand on each of them, covering their eyes. "According to your faith then, be it done to you." He removed his hands to reveal beautiful eyes with clear pupils, their sight restored completely. The girl's hands went to her mouth in awe. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, "You can see!" "Abiud!" she pronounced the name with a musical lilt, "You can see!" Father and brother fell to their knees in gratitude. The child said gleefully, "I must tell Prisca! The old priest was right!"

"First, come with me." It was Matthew. He had in times past seen these men. Indeed, it was Matthew who had reported them to the Romans for not paying tribute. Often, out of guilt, he had given them alms to relieve their circumstances. But it was not nearly enough. Leading the men and the girl-child to his home, he charged his servants, "Bathe these men, give them new robes; place rings on their fingers, and necklaces about their necks. They are my honored guests; treat them with dignity and respect." When they were finished, Matthew came into the room. "Better," he observed. "Come, it is time to eat." Matthew, finished with his meal, pushed his plate aside and drank the last dregs of his wine. "Gentlemen," he began, "I wish to make a proposal which I would be grateful if you were to accept. I have a modest but comfortable cottage in the back of my home which no one is using. The servants have kept it clean and livable, but it has remained empty for years. I would be honored if you would live there and help maintain my home. With all my travels these days, it is hard to keep up with a large house. And," he said firmly but with a smile, "if tax people ever bother you again, I want to learn of it immediately." Such was the turn of events in the lives of those whom Jesus touched. I speak here of Matthew, even more than the men he healed.

Damaris had, in the meantime, been taken aside by the ladies of the household, fed and pampered for the first time in her short life. She emerged a few hours later wearing a delicate blue gown, her hair braided and shining. Now that her father could see, he discovered that she was no longer a young girl but was becoming a lovely young woman. Matthew continued, "I would like Damaris to live in my home and learn from the other women. She needs women in her life at this age. And she will be free to help care for you both."

Matthew turned to the girl with a twinkle in his eye, "Damaris, why don't you visit your friend Prisca, now?" The child bounced up and down and made to run for the door, then stopped. After momentary hesitation, she returned to Matthew and kissed him on the cheek.

"May God bless you, sir, for what you have done." Matthew hugged her gently and then released her. She put her shoulders back, held her head high, and walked with regal grace toward the door.

As the two men and the girl-child lived in Matthew's home, they also went about and told everyone and anyone who would listen what Jesus had done for them. All of Galilee heard about it.

As a consequence, others were brought to him as well. One of these was a man possessed of a demonic spirit. He couldn't speak. His eyes bulged, and he shook uncontrollably. Jesus spoke so quietly none of us could hear what he said, but the man's shaking ceased. He opened his mouth and said clearly and distinctly, "Thank you, Lord."

Those in the house of Peter standing about while Jesus did all of this began to murmur, "Nothing like this has ever been seen in all the history of Israel."

But there were a few Pharisees with their attendant scribes, insufferable legalists, who opined among themselves, "This man is controlled by the prince of demons. That is how he has the power to do tricks like this."

These religious functionaries were interrupted by the child standing near them. "My daddy sees," she said plainly and boldly. "My uncle sees," she declared. "How is it that you cannot?"

The men were not unaffected by the big, insistent eyes of the child. "What did you say, my dear?" not unkindly.

"Demons do evil things," she said. "If he was a demon, as you say, how is it that he does good things? How does a demon heal?"

They looked at each other, but said nothing. The eldest of them glanced at the child and gave her a perfunctory, humoring smile. Then they turned and left.

It is a marvelously satisfying thing to be so close to God's power, to see it so physically, so concretely at work. Damaris and Prisca became notable women in the early days of the believing community. Damaris served the church in Athens and Prisca in Ephesus. Our brother Paul came to know them well. I wish you could have been there, dear reader. I wish with all my heart that you could have also seen all that Jesus did and said. There was so much more than could possibly be recorded. I wish you could have seen it, smelled it, tasted it. How I pray these pages will help you do just that.