It’s Not Over Until God Says It’s Over

There are moments in life when everything around us seems to say, “This is the end.”

• A diagnosis brings fear.

• A relationship quietly falls apart.

• A dream you carried for years no longer feels possible.

What once felt alive now feels distant, silent, or gone.

And when those moments come, the world is quick to tell us to accept it, move on, and stop hoping.

But Scripture reminds us of a deeper truth: finality does not belong to circumstances—it belongs to God.

In Mark chapter 5, we’re introduced to a man named Jairus. He was a synagogue leader—respected, established, and accustomed to having answers. Yet when his daughter was dying, none of his status or influence could save her. So he did something unexpected: he went looking for Jesus.

Jairus didn’t wait for certainty. He didn’t wait until things improved. He moved while things were falling apart. And that matters—because faith often begins before clarity shows up.

Jesus agreed to go with him, but the story didn’t unfold quickly. There was a delay. While Jesus was on the way, another need demanded His attention. And during that delay, the unthinkable happened. Word came back to Jairus: “Your daughter is dead. Why bother Jesus anymore?”

That sentence carries a weight many of us recognize.

• Why keep praying?

• Why keep believing?

• Why keep hoping?

It’s the voice of logic. The voice of reason. The voice that looks at the situation through natural eyes and decides the outcome is already sealed.

But Jesus heard those words—and immediately responded with a different instruction: “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

In other words, don’t let what you hear override what you were promised.

When Jesus arrived at Jairus’ home, there was chaos. Mourning. Noise. People who had already accepted the ending. But Jesus wasn’t moved by the atmosphere. He spoke calmly and said something surprising: “The child is not dead, but asleep.”

To everyone else, that sounded absurd. They laughed.

Yet Jesus wasn’t denying reality—He was revealing a higher one. He was showing that what looks permanent to us may only be temporary to God.

Then He did something intentional. He removed the crowd. Not everyone could stay for what was about to happen. Not every voice needed to be present. And that’s a powerful reminder: sometimes hope requires space. Sometimes faith needs quiet. Sometimes belief grows best when doubt is asked to step outside.

Inside that room, Jesus took the girl by the hand and spoke words that carried both tenderness and authority: “Talitha koum.” Which means, “Little girl, rise up.”

Not shouted. Not dramatic. Just spoken.

And immediately, life returned.

What stands out most in this story isn’t just the miracle—it’s the timing. According to everyone else, it was too late. According to Jesus, it wasn’t over.

That same tension exists in our lives today.

We all have places where we’ve quietly accepted loss. Things we’ve buried emotionally. Dreams we’ve labeled unrealistic. Prayers we stopped praying because too much time passed.

But this story invites us to reconsider what we’ve called final.

It challenges us to ask:

• What if the delay wasn’t denial?

• What if the silence wasn’t absence?

• What if what looks dead is simply waiting for God’s word?

  
  

Faith doesn’t mean pretending things don’t hurt. It doesn’t mean ignoring reality. It means trusting that God’s authority extends beyond what we can see.

And if God has spoken—if He has promised—then the story isn’t finished yet.

Because in the end, it’s not over until God says it’s over!

God still has the final word!