When the Lord says, "Yes, but not yet"
When God Says "Yes, But Not Yet": Living in the Great In-Between
Life has a way of placing us in uncomfortable waiting rooms. We pray, we believe, we step out in faith—and then we wait. Sometimes that wait feels unbearable, especially when circumstances seem to be spiraling in the opposite direction of God's promise.
The story of Jairus, a synagogue ruler whose daughter lay dying, captures this tension with breathtaking clarity. Here was a man of status and influence, yet none of his connections or credentials could save his little girl. In desperation, he did something that would have cost him socially: he fell at Jesus' feet in front of a massive crowd and begged for help.
Jesus said yes. He agreed to come. Hope must have surged through Jairus' heart as they began walking toward his home.
But then came the interruption.
The Divine Diversion
A woman who had suffered from a blood disorder for twelve years pressed through the crowd and touched Jesus' cloak. The journey stopped. Jesus engaged her in conversation while Jairus' daughter hung between life and death.
Can you imagine the anxiety building in Jairus' chest? Every second counted. His daughter was at the point of death. And Jesus had stopped to talk.
Then the worst news arrived: "Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?"
This is what I call the great in-between—that agonizing space between God's promise and its fulfillment. It's where faith lives, breathes, and is tested. Jairus had received a "yes" from Jesus, but the "not yet" was crushing him.
Fear's Antidote
In that moment of devastating news, Jesus spoke directly to Jairus' heart: "Do not fear, only believe."
These weren't empty words. Jesus was reminding Jairus of what he had already witnessed—demons cast out, a withered hand restored, and now a woman healed. The message was clear: the fear of temporal circumstances is subdued when we focus on the one who delivered the promise.
Jesus wasn't suggesting Jairus wouldn't experience emotional pain. Rather, he was showing him how to walk through it before the promise was realized.
This is the walk of faith; it's trusting that God's delays are not denials, that His diversions are not derailments, and that what He decrees, He delivers.
David's Long Wait
Consider David, anointed as king but forced to wait 10 to 15 years before wearing the crown. Those years weren't peaceful—they were filled with:
In a cave, broken and depleted, David cried out: "When my spirit faints within me, you know my way... No refuge remains to me. No one cares for my soul."
Yet God's promise never failed. Looking back, David declared: "He sent from on high, he took me. He drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy... He brought me into a broad place because he delighted in me."
God's plan was to crown David's heart before his head. The waiting wasn't wasted—it was forging something eternal.
Human Perspective Meets Divine Truth
When Jesus arrived at Jairus' home, professional mourners filled the house with wailing and commotion. Death was obvious to everyone. They had closed the girl's eyes, covered her face with linen—all the cultural markers of finality.
Jesus walked in and asked, "Why are you making all this commotion? The child is not dead, but sleeping."
They laughed at him.
These were professionals who knew death when they saw it. From their perspective, Jesus' words were nonsense. They were right about everything except the one thing that mattered: who was standing in the room with them.
Human conclusion is not divine limitation.
This scene echoes Abraham and Sarah's laughter when God promised them a son in their old age. From their human perspective, childbearing was impossible. But God's response was simple: "Is anything too hard for the Lord?"
Twenty-five years after the initial promise, at age 100, Abraham held his son Isaac. Time was never a factor. Age was never an issue. Divine truth always supersedes human perspective.
The Moment of Arrival
Jesus cleared the room of mockers, taking only the parents and his three closest disciples—Peter, James, and John. In that intimate space, he approached the lifeless body of the little girl.
Then he did something shocking: he took her hand. In doing so, he violated Old Testament law about touching the dead. The clean touched the unclean.
But Jesus didn't just touch her—he firmly grasped her hand. And then he spoke with remarkable tenderness: "Talitha koum"—"Little lamb, arise."
These weren't words of thunder or commands shouted from heaven. They were the gentle words of a father to his daughter, spoken by the One who had knit her together in her mother's womb, who had numbered every hair on her head, who had ordained every one of her days.
Immediately—not gradually, not eventually, but instantly—the girl arose. The breath of life entered her body. She went from death to life, from covered face to open eyes, from shroud to standing.
Everyone in the room was completely undone. Mark tells us they were "driven outside themselves"—beyond the capacity of normal human response.
The waiting had forged their faith. The arrival broke them wide open.
Living in Your In-Between
Every believer lives in the great in-between—the space between salvation and glory. This earthly journey is filled with tension, friction, and strain. You will encounter what feel like delays, diversions, and setbacks.
But here's the truth: God has no interruptions. What looks like a detour from your perspective might be His direct route. That unexpected conversation, that phone call that disrupts your schedule, that circumstance that halts your plans—have you considered that God placed it there for a purpose?
The storms of life don't move the anchor of God's promise. Your crisis is never His collapse.
When you face your own moments of "yes, but not yet," remember:
That joy cannot be removed, revoked, or repossessed. It's permanent, unchanging, and eternal.
Until that day, we wait. We trust. We believe.
And we remember that when the King says "yes, but not yet," He's not withholding—He's preparing both the promise and our hearts to receive it.
The story of Jairus, a synagogue ruler whose daughter lay dying, captures this tension with breathtaking clarity. Here was a man of status and influence, yet none of his connections or credentials could save his little girl. In desperation, he did something that would have cost him socially: he fell at Jesus' feet in front of a massive crowd and begged for help.
Jesus said yes. He agreed to come. Hope must have surged through Jairus' heart as they began walking toward his home.
But then came the interruption.
The Divine Diversion
A woman who had suffered from a blood disorder for twelve years pressed through the crowd and touched Jesus' cloak. The journey stopped. Jesus engaged her in conversation while Jairus' daughter hung between life and death.
Can you imagine the anxiety building in Jairus' chest? Every second counted. His daughter was at the point of death. And Jesus had stopped to talk.
Then the worst news arrived: "Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?"
This is what I call the great in-between—that agonizing space between God's promise and its fulfillment. It's where faith lives, breathes, and is tested. Jairus had received a "yes" from Jesus, but the "not yet" was crushing him.
Fear's Antidote
In that moment of devastating news, Jesus spoke directly to Jairus' heart: "Do not fear, only believe."
These weren't empty words. Jesus was reminding Jairus of what he had already witnessed—demons cast out, a withered hand restored, and now a woman healed. The message was clear: the fear of temporal circumstances is subdued when we focus on the one who delivered the promise.
Jesus wasn't suggesting Jairus wouldn't experience emotional pain. Rather, he was showing him how to walk through it before the promise was realized.
This is the walk of faith; it's trusting that God's delays are not denials, that His diversions are not derailments, and that what He decrees, He delivers.
David's Long Wait
Consider David, anointed as king but forced to wait 10 to 15 years before wearing the crown. Those years weren't peaceful—they were filled with:
- Dodging spears thrown by a jealous king
- Living as a fugitive in enemy territory
- Hiding in caves with 400 desperate men
- Watching his best friend die in battle
- Experiencing betrayal, loss, and constant danger
In a cave, broken and depleted, David cried out: "When my spirit faints within me, you know my way... No refuge remains to me. No one cares for my soul."
Yet God's promise never failed. Looking back, David declared: "He sent from on high, he took me. He drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy... He brought me into a broad place because he delighted in me."
God's plan was to crown David's heart before his head. The waiting wasn't wasted—it was forging something eternal.
Human Perspective Meets Divine Truth
When Jesus arrived at Jairus' home, professional mourners filled the house with wailing and commotion. Death was obvious to everyone. They had closed the girl's eyes, covered her face with linen—all the cultural markers of finality.
Jesus walked in and asked, "Why are you making all this commotion? The child is not dead, but sleeping."
They laughed at him.
These were professionals who knew death when they saw it. From their perspective, Jesus' words were nonsense. They were right about everything except the one thing that mattered: who was standing in the room with them.
Human conclusion is not divine limitation.
This scene echoes Abraham and Sarah's laughter when God promised them a son in their old age. From their human perspective, childbearing was impossible. But God's response was simple: "Is anything too hard for the Lord?"
Twenty-five years after the initial promise, at age 100, Abraham held his son Isaac. Time was never a factor. Age was never an issue. Divine truth always supersedes human perspective.
The Moment of Arrival
Jesus cleared the room of mockers, taking only the parents and his three closest disciples—Peter, James, and John. In that intimate space, he approached the lifeless body of the little girl.
Then he did something shocking: he took her hand. In doing so, he violated Old Testament law about touching the dead. The clean touched the unclean.
But Jesus didn't just touch her—he firmly grasped her hand. And then he spoke with remarkable tenderness: "Talitha koum"—"Little lamb, arise."
These weren't words of thunder or commands shouted from heaven. They were the gentle words of a father to his daughter, spoken by the One who had knit her together in her mother's womb, who had numbered every hair on her head, who had ordained every one of her days.
Immediately—not gradually, not eventually, but instantly—the girl arose. The breath of life entered her body. She went from death to life, from covered face to open eyes, from shroud to standing.
Everyone in the room was completely undone. Mark tells us they were "driven outside themselves"—beyond the capacity of normal human response.
The waiting had forged their faith. The arrival broke them wide open.
Living in Your In-Between
Every believer lives in the great in-between—the space between salvation and glory. This earthly journey is filled with tension, friction, and strain. You will encounter what feel like delays, diversions, and setbacks.
But here's the truth: God has no interruptions. What looks like a detour from your perspective might be His direct route. That unexpected conversation, that phone call that disrupts your schedule, that circumstance that halts your plans—have you considered that God placed it there for a purpose?
The storms of life don't move the anchor of God's promise. Your crisis is never His collapse.
When you face your own moments of "yes, but not yet," remember:
- Faith swallows fear. The antidote to anxiety is focusing on the Promise-Keeper rather than the circumstances.
- Divine truth supersedes human perspective. What your eyes see and your mind concludes may be in direct conflict with heaven's reality. Trust His word over your observations.
- The waiting forges your faith, and the arrival will break you open. The in-between isn't wasted time—it's where your heart is being prepared for what God has promised.
- One day, the temporary will end and the eternal will begin. Jesus promised his disciples, "You will have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you."
That joy cannot be removed, revoked, or repossessed. It's permanent, unchanging, and eternal.
Until that day, we wait. We trust. We believe.
And we remember that when the King says "yes, but not yet," He's not withholding—He's preparing both the promise and our hearts to receive it.
View the full sermon below:
Posted in Sermon Recaps
Posted in healing, Death, Resurrection, Anxiety, Fear, Faith, Jesus, Mark, The Gospel of Mark, Waiting, Already but Not Yet
Posted in healing, Death, Resurrection, Anxiety, Fear, Faith, Jesus, Mark, The Gospel of Mark, Waiting, Already but Not Yet
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