Mark 4:21-5:43

Where we left off last week:

Went through the parable of the Sower

And the purpose of the parables

We talked about the major theme of hearing — the word for hearing was mentioned 13x in Mark 4.

With the parables, there is a difference between those who hear and those who are hearing. Disciples, the good soil, continue to hear. Like the call from Hebrews, they don’t harden their hearts and turn away, they draw forward and come to Christ.

This is a work of grace! And yet, the parables also expose what is there in our hearts. God has to do a miraculous work on the soil, to make us into hearers.

Why can’t we hear? Remember last week when we gave this illustration of the light. Our sin makes us blind. It’s like the pulling down of a shade. The more we cling to our sin, we can’t even see the light. Jesus was exposing that. He couldn’t be understood because He wouldn’t be seen by sinners.

IV. Related Parables and Teachings in Mark 4–5 (~20 minutes)

As we finish Mark 4 and prepare to step into chapter 5, we encounter a series of short parables that continue to reinforce the themes Jesus has been teaching: that God’s kingdom advances in surprising, hidden, and often counterintuitive ways. These parables press us to reflect on how we *hear*, how we *wait*, and how we *trust*. Let's take a closer look at three of them.

1. The Lamp Under a Basket (Mark 4:21–25)

“And he said to them, “Is a lamp brought in to be put under a basket, or under a bed, and not on a stand? For nothing is hidden except to be made manifest; nor is anything secret except to come to light. If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.” And he said to them, “Pay attention to what you hear: with the measure you use, it will be measured to you, and still more will be added to you. For to the one who has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”” (Mark 4:21–25, ESV)

Jesus begins with a question that forces a response: Would anyone light a lamp and then hide it? Of course not. Lamps are meant to shine—to reveal what was hidden in darkness. Jesus himself, in this parable, is that lamp. Later we, too, will be called the light of the world, but here it is about Him. He has come into a dark world not to remain concealed but to be lifted up, revealed, and proclaimed.

Yet many—including his own family and religious opponents—would rather tuck him away. They want to mute his influence, to dim his disruptive message. But Jesus will not be hidden. His light exposes the secrets of the heart, reveals the nature of the kingdom, and divides between those who *hear* and those who *refuse to hear*.

“The family of God has the gift of ears that hear.”

> Jason Meyer, Mark for You

But this gift comes with a warning. Jesus says, *“Pay attention to what you hear.”* In other words, *be careful listeners.* The standard you use for receiving God’s Word is the same one that will be used in measuring it back to you. If you lean in, more will be given. If you ignore or resist the truth, even the understanding you think you have will fade away.

— Not just hearers, but doers of the word — obedience (active hearing)

> The Word of God functions like a window blind. The more you open it in obedience, the more light you receive. But if you keep it closed—if you refuse to respond to the light—you remain in darkness.”

> (Use this visual again to reinforce the point.)

Application:

Charge: How are you responding to the light of God’s Word? Are you actively receiving it and obeying? Or has sin blinded your heart and dulled your ears?

2. The Growing Seed (Mark 4:26–29)

“And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”” (Mark 4:26–29, ESV)

This next parable is deceptively simple, but it upends human expectations. A man scatters seed, then goes about his business—sleeping, waking, living. All the while, something miraculous is happening beneath the soil. The seed is growing, completely apart from his control or understanding.

This is a picture of *how God’s kingdom grows*. Not by human effort or visible force, but by the quiet, sovereign power of God. The earth “produces by itself”—literally *automatos* in Greek, meaning "on its own." The farmer contributes only by sowing and harvesting. The growth belongs to God.

“No one had imagined that the coming of the kingdom would be hidden and happen under the surface.”

> Jason Meyer, Mark for You

Application:

The charge is to trust in God’s quiet work, both in us and in others. Growth may be slow, even invisible, but it is real. We are called to faithfulness in sowing and patient hope in God’s timing. *“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion…”* (Phil. 1:6).

3. The Mustard Seed (Mark 4:30–34)

“And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.” (Mark 4:30–34, ESV)

Jesus now compares the kingdom to a mustard seed—a symbol of weakness, smallness, and insignificance. That’s the whole point. The kingdom starts *tiny*, even forgettable. But in time, it grows into something massive, something unignorable, and sheltering.

This is likely a reference to Ezekiel 17, where God promises to plant a small twig that will grow into a mighty cedar, giving shade to the nations. Jesus is that twig. His humble beginnings—born in a manger, scorned and crucified—are the seed of God’s worldwide kingdom.

“Thus says the Lord God: “I myself will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and will set it out. I will break off from the topmost of its young twigs a tender one, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. On the mountain height of Israel will I plant it, that it may bear branches and produce fruit and become a noble cedar. And under it will dwell every kind of bird; in the shade of its branches birds of every sort will nest. And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the Lord; I bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I am the Lord; I have spoken, and I will do it.”” (Ezekiel 17:22–24, ESV)

“Christ came the first time in such a hidden way... But he rose from the dead. He ascended to the throne… He will come again on the clouds with all the angels.”

> Jason Meyer, Mark for You

“Can one believe that the kingdom of God advances through crucifixion? Can one believe that Jesus… who was hanged on a tree, is indeed the judge of the living and the dead?”

>David Garland, NIV Application Commentary

Application:

Don’t despise small beginnings. Don’t judge the power of the kingdom by appearances. What looks foolish or weak to the world is often God’s chosen means for glory.

Remember, *“The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us… it is the power of God”* (1 Cor. 1:18)

It’s a charge to trust God's process—even when it looks unimpressive? Are you willing to trust God’s Word and God's ways when they don’t immediately make sense or seem powerful?

Conclusion: Hearing, Trusting, and Waiting Well

These three parables—the Lamp, the Growing Seed, and the Mustard Seed—are all connected by a single thread: the surprising and hidden nature of God’s kingdom.

* God’s *light* shines for those willing to see.

* God’s *growth* happens beyond what we can control.

* God’s *victory* begins in humility and ends in majesty.

So we ask ourselves:

Am I hearing well?

Am I trusting God’s work even when I don’t see results?

Am I willing to walk by faith, not by sight?

If you have ears to hear, then hear—and let the light of the kingdom transform you.

D. Jesus Calms the Storm (Mark 4:35–41)

Read Mark 4:35–41 (ESV):

“On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

1. The Storm Is Real

Mark is clear: this was a physical storm, not a metaphor. “A great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling.” These are seasoned fishermen, not alarmists, and yet they are terrified. This storm is life-threatening.

And Jesus? He is in the stern—on a cushion—sleeping. It's not a metaphor. He’s really asleep. The contrast is striking. The disciples are frantic, but the Lord of heaven and earth is at rest.

This storm reveals the deep tension between appearance and reality. From the disciples’ perspective, Jesus appears indifferent. They wake him and ask, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Their question, “Don’t you care?” is another way of saying, “We thought you did.”

2. Jesus, the Calmer of Storms—Outward and Inward

Jesus awakens—not in panic, but in command. He rebukes the wind and speaks to the sea: *“Peace! Be still!”* The Greek verbs here are sharp, authoritative. And immediately, there is *a great calm*.

David Garland comments, “Jesus is shown to possess power to still outward storms that threaten life and to still the inward storms of torment and grief that threaten our souls.” What’s external is a mirror of what is internal. And in both realms—He is Lord. (storm and fear - external and internal)

But notice: Jesus does *not* pray for the storm to stop. He doesn’t appeal to God. He speaks to it as *God*. This is not a prophet calling upon divine power. This is divine power incarnate. Mark is retelling Psalm 107 through the lens of Christ:

“Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the great waters; they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight; they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits’ end. Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven. Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man!” (Psalm 107:23–31, ESV)

Jesus is not just the model of faith—He is the object of it.

3. Fear and Faith

After calming the storm, Jesus turns to his disciples with a question that should echo in every heart: *“Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”* That question is the key to this whole passage. Jason Meyer puts it well: “Faith is the major theme of the story.”

Mark shows us that *fear* isn’t eliminated when the storm ceases. It’s redirected. “And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’” This fear is awe. Reverence. Recognition. The fear of the Lord.

This is a critical moment of progression in their understanding. They don’t yet have a full confession of faith—that comes later—but the dots are connecting. This man is more than a teacher. More than a prophet. He commands creation.

4. From Hopelessness to Hope

We can take this story as a mirror. It reflects our tendency to assume God's indifference when he is silent. “Don’t you care that we’re perishing?” It’s the cry of every frightened heart.

But here’s the truth: *Hopelessness is often the path to hope.* Paul Tripp reminds us that until we feel our desperate need, we don’t seek desperate help. Garland adds: “Those most open to receiving Jesus’ power are those who recognize their own desperate need of it. Those who are not open are no less desperate—they’ve just convinced themselves they don’t need it.”

So many people never receive peace—not because peace isn’t offered—but because they never cry out in desperation.

5. Sleep and Faith

Jesus’ sleep wasn’t careless. It was faithful. In Psalm 3:5, the psalmist says, *“I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.”* In Psalm 4:8: *“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”* Sleep, in the biblical imagination, is a form of trust.

Jesus was not just showing us how to rest in a storm—He was resting because His confidence was in His Father. Proverbs 3 says: *“Do not be afraid of sudden terror… for the Lord will be your confidence.”* That is exactly what Jesus models.

And yet, He is more than a model. Jason Meyer again writes: *“He can be the model of faith because He is fully human; He can be the object of faith because He is fully divine.”*

6. The Irony of the Garden

There is a bitter irony in Mark’s Gospel. In this moment, the disciples cry out in panic while Jesus sleeps. Later, in Gethsemane, Jesus will cry out in agony while *they* sleep. In both storms—one physical, one spiritual—He is alone in His confidence and His sorrow. The One who calmed the sea will be crushed in the garden.

7. Through the Storm, Not Around It

It’s important to see that the disciples were *in* the will of Jesus when the storm hit. He said, “Let us go to the other side.” Obedience doesn’t insulate us from chaos. Sometimes, it leads us right into it.

The promise is not that we’ll be kept *from* every storm, but that we’ll be carried *through* them. Jesus delivers us not always *from* the chaos, but always *through* it. The One who has conquered the “strong man” (Mark 3:27) now leads His people safely through troubled seas.

Conclusion: Christ Is for Us

So, where does that leave us?

It leaves us with Romans 8:

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit—” (Romans 8:31–9:1, ESV)

Let us remember: Jesus is not indifferent. He is Lord over the storm. He is the One who sleeps in peace, the One who wakes in power, and the One who saves in love.

Takeaway

Are you in a storm? Cry out. Don’t wait to feel worthy. Don’t assume His silence means absence. The storm may be strong, but the One who is in your boat is stronger.

So then, why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?

Let us turn our fear toward Christ—because He alone can say to our storm, *“Peace! Be still.”*

E. Jesus’ Authority Over Evil and Death (Mark 5:1–43)

Mark 5 is a chapter filled with desperation—people begging Jesus to do what only He can do. And in every case, Jesus meets them not with dismissal, but with power and compassion. It’s a chapter where Jesus confronts the darkness, impurity, and despair of the world head-on. And He wins.

Three stories are woven together here: a man tormented by demons, a woman suffering from years of bleeding, and a father fearing for the life of his little girl. All of them are outcasts in some way. All of them are helpless. And all of them show us something powerful about who Jesus is and how He responds to broken people.

1. Jesus Confronts Evil: The Demon-Possessed Man (Mark 5:1–13)

“They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. And when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones. And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him. And crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” For he was saying to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” And he begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. Now a great herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside, and they begged him, saying, “Send us to the pigs; let us enter them.” So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the sea.” (Mark 5:1–13, ESV)

Jesus and the disciples arrive in Gentile territory, the country of the Gerasenes. Immediately, a man emerges from the tombs—unclean, violent, self-harming, and completely overtaken by demons. This is not just someone disturbed; this man is dehumanized. He lives among the dead. He cannot be bound by chains. People avoid him, and he is consumed by agony.

As Jason Meyer notes, “Demons hate God, but they cannot destroy or deface him, and so they try to destroy and disfigure the image of God wherever they can.” This man was being targeted because he bore the image of God.

But notice: even this legion of demons—an army as large as a Roman battalion—cannot stand against Jesus. The man runs to Jesus and falls at His feet, and the demons beg for mercy. *They beg.* That’s how afraid they are of Him. Jesus doesn’t perform an incantation or need to summon divine power—He simply gives the word, and they obey. The demons leave the man and enter a herd of pigs, which then rush into the sea and drown.

It’s a scene that echoes the Exodus. But this time, Jesus isn’t drowning Pharaoh’s army—He’s drowning Satan’s.

Jesus has come to liberate captives, just as Isaiah 49:25 promised:

> “Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken, and the prey of the tyrant be rescued… for I am the Lord your Savior.”

I must go to those who did not seek me

“I was ready to be sought by those who did not ask for me; I was ready to be found by those who did not seek me. I said, “Here I am, here I am,” to a nation that was not called by my name.” (Isaiah 65:1, ESV)

“who sit in tombs, and spend the night in secret places; who eat pig’s flesh, and broth of tainted meat is in their vessels;” (Isaiah 65:4, ESV)

2. The People Respond: Fear, Not Faith (Mark 5:14–17)

“The herdsmen fled and told it in the city and in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. And they came to Jesus and saw the demon-possessed man, the one who had had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they were afraid. And those who had seen it described to them what had happened to the demon-possessed man and to the pigs. And they began to beg Jesus to depart from their region.” (Mark 5:14–17, ESV)

After the pigs drown, the herdsmen run and tell everyone what happened. The townspeople come out—not to rejoice, but to beg Jesus to leave. *They beg Him to go.*

Think about that. A man who had terrified them is now healed, clothed, and sane—and they are more afraid of Jesus than they were of the demons. They would rather have the familiar chaos than the unsettling presence of holy power. In other words, they are more comfortable with brokenness than with transformation.

It’s a sobering picture of judgment. Jesus does not force Himself where He is not wanted. They beg Him to leave, and so He does.

3. A New Disciple Sent on Mission (Mark 5:18–20)

“As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him. And he did not permit him but said to him, “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.” (Mark 5:18–20, ESV)

But not everyone wants Jesus to leave. The man who had been healed begs to come with Him. *Again, the language of begging.*

This time, Jesus says no—not out of rejection, but out of mission. “Go home to your friends,” Jesus says, “and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how He has had mercy on you.”

This man becomes the first missionary to the Gentiles. He doesn’t go to seminary first. He doesn’t need a platform. He simply shares what Jesus has done. And *everyone marveled.*

This is what mercy does. It calls us out of misery and into mission.

4. Two Daughters: Jairus’s Plea and the Bleeding Woman (Mark 5:21–43)

“And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.” And he went with him. And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.” And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” While he was still speaking, there came from the ruler’s house some who said, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” And he allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement. And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.” (Mark 5:21–43, ESV)

Back across the lake, Jesus is again surrounded by a crowd. A synagogue ruler named Jairus falls at His feet and *begs* Him to come and heal his dying daughter. Jairus is a man of some status, but in this moment, he’s just a desperate dad. And Jesus goes with him.

But on the way, they’re interrupted.

A woman slips through the crowd, quietly and anonymously. She has been bleeding for twelve years—unclean, isolated, and bankrupt from medical treatments. Like the demon-possessed man, she has suffered under the hands of others, and like him, no one has been able to help her.

She believes that if she can just touch Jesus’ cloak, she’ll be healed. And she is. But Jesus won’t let her hide. He stops, calls her out, and restores her not just physically, but personally. “Daughter,” He says. “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

Jason Meyer notes the powerful moment here: someone had just asked Jesus to come and heal *his* daughter. But Jesus stops to tend to *his* daughter—this woman, this outcast, is part of His family.

Faith brings more than healing; it brings identity. Salvation doesn’t just say “You are forgiven.” It says, “You belong.”

5. Jesus Raises Jairus’s Daughter (Mark 5:35–43)

While Jesus is still speaking to the woman, messengers arrive with crushing news: Jairus’s daughter is dead. It’s too late. But Jesus turns to Jairus and says, “Do not fear, only believe.”

The original request had been, “Come and lay your hands on her, that she may live.” Jesus is saying: *I still will.*

At the house, Jesus finds mourners wailing loudly. He tells them the child is not dead, but sleeping—and they laugh at Him. But Jesus is not deterred. He takes the girl’s parents, and Peter, James, and John inside. He takes her hand and speaks simple, tender words: “Talitha cumi”—“Little girl, arise.”

She gets up. She walks. Jesus tells them to give her something to eat. He doesn’t just resurrect her—He cares for her daily needs. He restores her to life *and* to a home.

Mark gives one more quiet link: the girl is twelve years old. The woman had suffered for twelve years. One had been dying as the other had been bleeding. But both were seen by Jesus, healed by Him, and restored to peace.

Conclusion: Who Are You in This Story?

Jason Meyer makes a compelling observation: *The Gospel of Mark is like The NeverEnding Story—you realize, at some point, that you are in it.*

So who are you?

You may be like the demon-possessed man—tormented, trapped in sin, or ashamed of what’s been done to you. Jesus can set you free.

You may be like the bleeding woman—hidden, hurting, afraid to be seen. Jesus calls you “daughter.”

You may be like Jairus—afraid that your hope is gone, that it’s too late. Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid. Only believe.”

Throughout this chapter, broken people fall at Jesus’ feet. They beg Him for help. And in every case, He responds with mercy and power.

So come to Him. Don’t pretend to be strong. Don’t stay in the shadows. Come to the one who breaks chains, calms storms, heals disease, raises the dead, and welcomes the outsider into the family of God.