Rev. Rob Jones
June 2, 2026

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, "Follow me." And he got up and followed him. 10And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. 11When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?"12But when he heard this, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners." 
18While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, "My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live."19And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. 20Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak,21for she said to herself, "If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well." 22Jesus turned, and seeing her, he said, "Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well." And instantly the woman was made well. 23When Jesus came to the leader's house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion,24he said, "Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him. 25But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up.26And the report of this spread throughout that district.

The Savior for the Sick, the Unclean, and the Dead

Matthew 9 sets before us a Savior who does not wait for the clean to become cleaner or for the strong to become stronger. He comes for the sick. He comes for the unclean. He comes for the desperate. He comes for the dead. In just a few short verses, Jesus calls a tax collector from his booth, sits at a table with sinners, receives the plea of a grieving father, and heals a woman who had been bleeding for twelve long years. These are not random stories stitched together. They bear one unified testimony to the glory of Christ: He is mighty to save, free in his mercy, and sovereign in his grace.

Christ Calls the Unworthy by Sovereign Mercy

First, consider Matthew sitting at the tax booth. In the first century, tax collectors were not merely disliked civil servants. They were widely regarded as collaborators with Rome, men enriched by a system of oppression and often associated with extortion. Historical sources note that such men were treated as morally compromised and socially defiled, cut off from the respect of ordinary Jewish life. That is why this moment is so arresting: Jesus sees Matthew not merely as he has been, but as one whom He will make new. The command is brief: “Follow me.” And Matthew rises and follows.

When Christ speaks, his voice does more than invite—it brings into being what it commands. When the Lord said, “Let there be light,” light did not pause to consider or respond; it simply appeared. In the same way, when Christ calls a sinner, he is not offering a suggestion to a spiritually dead heart. He speaks with life-giving authority that awakens that heart. Matthew’s rise from the tax booth is a small picture of resurrection. The same Lord who will later take a little girl by the hand and raise her from death first raises this public sinner from spiritual death into discipleship. Salvation does not begin with human initiative, but with God’s mercy breaking into the ordinary places where sinners sit.

Christ Calls Sinners Not Because They Are Well, but Because They Are Sick

And where does Matthew go after he is called? He brings Jesus into his house, and soon the table is filled with tax collectors and sinners. Grace does not remain hidden long. The Pharisees see this and are scandalized. They clutch their pearls and ask, “Why would a holy teacher eat with such people?” But our Lord answers with words that still thunder through the church: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick…” Then, Jesus quotes Hosea 6:6 and says, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” Jesus is proclaiming the purpose of His coming. He has not come to congratulate the self-assured. He has come to rescue the ruined.

There is an old account from the ministry of Thomas Chalmers, the nineteenth-century Scottish pastor, who observed that many people try to drive out the love of sin merely by moral pressure, as though the heart could be emptied by force. But, he argued, the heart is changed by “the expulsive power of a new affection,” a phrase from his famous sermon of that title. In other words, sinners do not leave the tax booth because shame finally became strong enough; they leave because Christ became beautiful enough. Mere religion can polish the outside while the heart still clings to idols. But when the mercy of God in Christ lays hold of a sinner, old loves begin to lose their dominion. That is what the Pharisees could not understand. They knew sacrifice as ritual, but not mercy as the heartbeat of God’s redemptive purpose.

Christ Receives the Helpless Who Come in Faith

Then Matthew turns our eyes to two more sufferers: a ruler whose daughter has died, and a woman whose body has been slowly failing for twelve years. One is honored in society; the other has been pushed to the margins. One approaches Jesus publicly; the other reaches for Him secretly. Yet both are gathered into the same stream of mercy. This, too, is part of the beauty of the kingdom: God is no respecter of persons. The neediest thing about the Leader from the Synagogue and the woman with the bleeding is not their social position, but their helplessness. And helplessness is never a barrier to Christ. It is the very place where His power is displayed.

The Bleeding Woman: Hidden Suffering, Public Mercy

Consider the woman. For twelve years, she has suffered. In the world of first-century Judaism, this was not merely a medical burden; it carried ceremonial consequences that touched every part of her life. It meant ongoing uncleanness, social isolation, and the painful knowledge that even her touch could render others unclean under the ceremonial law. She has become the kind of person who lives in the shadows, measuring every step, wondering whether she still belongs anywhere. Yet she says to herself, “If I only touch his garment, I will be made well.” That is not superstition in its essence; it is desperate faith reaching toward the only One who can cleanse what no earthly remedy can cure.

Imagine a child lost at sea, clinging to a broken plank in a storm. The plank does not save the child because the child understands the science of buoyancy. It saves because it holds. So, it is with faith. The strength of faith is not measured first by the clarity of the hand that grasps, but by the strength of the Savior who is grasped. This woman comes trembling, hidden, and weak; yet Christ does not rebuke her for the frailty of her approach. He turns to her with tenderness and authority: “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” Notice that He calls her daughter. The one long treated as untouchable is not only healed; she is received.

Christ Holds Authority Even Over Death

Then Jesus goes on to the ruler’s house. There is already noise there—flute players, mourners, the machinery of death doing what it always does in a fallen world. The girl is gone, and everyone knows what death means. It means finality. It means separation. It means the wages of sin have reached all the way into the house. But when Christ enters, death is forced to yield its claim. He says, “The girl is not dead but sleeping.” He is not denying reality; He is redefining it in relation to Himself. Because death in the presence of the Lord of life is like sleep before a waking voice, he takes her by the hand, and she rises.

John Newton, the former slave trader turned pastor and hymn writer, once wrote in a letter that believers can stand by an open grave and say, in effect, “This is not the end; our Redeemer lives.” That confidence was not natural optimism. It was a purchased certainty. Because Christ has authority over sin and uncleanness and even the grave, the believer’s hope is not built on sentiment but on the triumph of the risen Lord. The ruler’s daughter is a signpost pointing beyond itself. The hand that lifted her would one day Himself be pierced, and then in glory break the power of death for all God’s people, forever.

Come Near to Christ

So, what binds these scenes together? A tax collector, an unclean woman, and a dead girl all testify to the same truth: apart from Christ, our condition is more desperate than we often admit, and in Christ, mercy is greater than we dared to hope. Some of us are more like Matthew, outwardly busy and inwardly bound. Some are like the woman, carrying private griefs and hidden shame. Some know the ruler’s anguish, standing where all human ability has run out. But the gospel does not present a partial Savior for manageable problems. It presents the Son of God, who calls sinners, cleanses the defiled, and raises the dead.

Therefore, do not remain at the booth. Do not stay at the edge of the crowd. Do not make peace with the tombs of unbelief, shame, or self-righteousness. Come to Christ as the needy come to a physician. Come as the unclean come to cleansing. Come as the dead are summoned to life. And if you already belong to Him, then learn again what this means: “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” Let the mercy you have received become the mercy you extend. 

Who in your life have you treated as beyond the reach of grace? What sorrow have you concluded is too deep for the touch of Christ? If He can call Matthew, cleanse the woman, and raise the ruler’s daughter, will you not come nearer to Him today and trust Him with all that seems beyond hope?