Life as a shepherd in the days of Jesus was not easy. It was a job for the poor, which meant it did not pay well, and the risks were great. Although lions and bears were no longer frequently sighted in Israel in that day, they still existed, and the shepherd’s weapons amounted to a staff and, if he possessed one, a sling. Days were long, nights were cold, and sheep are notoriously stupid. It took constant vigilance to keep them safe and in line. And so, when the opportunity arose, and when the grazing was ample enough to combine flocks for a feeding, the shepherds no doubt looked forward to an evening enjoying the company of other shepherds. To find safety in numbers and to pass the night along with tall tales and warm drinks was likely a rare treat.

Ever wonder how long Simeon was waiting—day after day in the temple courts—for the Messiah to be revealed? The Bible does not share that information with us. Could have been days, weeks, months or years; maybe even decades. He waited because, as a man who knew the power of the Holy Spirit in his life, it was made privy to him that if he would patiently wait he would live to see the Lord’s Messiah, who would bring about the “consolation of Israel.” Simeon wanted to see hope and salvation for Israel and he knew that these could only come about through the work of Messiah, the long-awaited hope of Israel.

John and Jesus were friends—probably cousins as well. In all likelihood they grew up at least acquainted with each other. It may be one of the factors why he (along with his brother James) was so ready to jump out of his father’s boat and join the ministry of Jesus when he called him to be his disciple. During Jesus’ three-year ministry, John was, it appears, constantly by his side.

Cornelius was a “God-fearer,” a moniker that designated a Gentile who worshiped the God of Israel as the only true God, and who followed the moral code of Israel (while not participating in the ritual sacrificial system). They were not full converts to Judaism, but they did worship on the periphery of the faith. In Acts 8 we hear of the Ethiopian eunuch, who had gone to worship in Jerusalem at the temple and was met by Philip on his way home. Through Philip he encountered Christ. It appears that God saw to it that these God-fearers had the opportunity to hear and know about Jesus in the early days of the church.

Some of the lingering illnesses that people suffer cause us to pity them, pray for them, and reach out to them. Some do not seem to bother us at all. For many, a woman suffering from what amounted to a twelve-year menstrual flow simply does not register as a problem we care much about. After all, people suffer from much more serious ailments which are far more deadly. Embarrassing? Yes. Inconvenient? Absolutely. Debilitating? No. But consider for a moment what this woman in Jesus’ day had to endure.

The last embers of life were fading out in Jesus. He had endured a sleepless night, celebrating a Passover meal with his disciples before the temple guards arrived with Judas the betrayer leading them. This was followed by an arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, and then to hasty nighttime trials, a transfer to Pilate, the Roman procurator, then to Herod, the Jewish king, and finally back to Pilate. His accusers had plied him with many questions throughout the evening; then came the unlawful beatings at the hands of both the temple guards and the Roman soldiers placed in charge over him. Finally, he was stripped, tied to a post and whipped with a cat of nine tails, tearing through his back and into his muscles. Marched to the place of execution and nailed to a cross, he now hung naked and bleeding profusely, only to have to endure the taunts and jeers of the crowd and the two men crucified on his left and right. One of the men, our passage for today demonstrates, cursed Jesus while at the same time begging to be saved from his fate. The other, however, saw in Jesus one last hope.

Jairus, the synagogue ruler, was getting worried. When he left home to look for Jesus his daughter was alive, but just barely. By God’s grace he found Jesus quickly, and with very little effort was able to persuade him to accompany him back to his home, where she was waiting for his touch. Now a woman had stopped their progress by inappropriately touching the hem of the Master’s robe, causing him to stop in his tracks, seeking the culprit. Their conversation seemed to go on forever. Yes, he was pleased that Jesus had demonstrated mercy to the woman, from the little he overheard from their conversation she was certainly desperate. But so was he! His little girl was sick, on the verge of death. If Jesus did not pick up the pace she would be beyond the reach of anyone, even a great healer like him. Finally, the conversation was drawing to a close, but then he saw them— servants from his home—making their way toward him through the pressing crowd. His heart went cold, for he knew the news could not be good. When they told him that his daughter had died, and to trouble the Master no more, it was like a knife to the heart. Now all was lost.

Nathaniel’s doubts were answered in a far more important way on the day he first encountered Jesus. Filled with questions about the dubious background of this new teacher Philip told him about, Nathaniel went to see for himself. Nazareth? Does anything good come from that backwater village in Galilee? But while approaching Jesus he overheard something that changed his doubts to belief instantaneously. “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit,” Jesus said as he in turn laid his eyes on Nathaniel. The natural question followed, “How do you know me?” And then the earth-shattering revelation—Jesus knew Nathaniel long before he met him, he even observed him sitting under a fig tree without having been in physical proximity to him. Now, we may wonder, why does Nathaniel jump to such a quick conclusion? Is it not even remotely possible that someone had told Jesus about Nathaniel? Could he not have been making a lucky guess?