Acts 9:39–42 (NIV 1984)
Peter went with them, and when he arrived he was taken upstairs to the room. All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them. Peter sent them all out of the room; then he got down on his knees and prayed. Turning toward the dead woman, he said, “Tabitha, get up.” She opened her eyes, and seeing Peter she sat up. He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Then he called the believers and the widows and presented her to them alive. This became known all over Joppa, and many people believed in the Lord.
This had me in shambles yesterday morning during my reading and prayer time.
What stopped me in my tracks wasn’t just the miracle. It was Peter. His boldness. His humility. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t try to impress, and he didn’t offer a big explanation. He simply went into the room, cleared it like Jesus had once done, got on his knees, and prayed. Then he said, “Tabitha, get up.”
It struck me how much he had grown. This is the same Peter who once tried to tell Jesus what to do. Rebuking Him for talking about the cross (Matthew 16). The same Peter who cut off ears and denied the Lord by a fire. But now? Now he’s walking into a room full of grief and doing exactly what Jesus had done years earlier with Jairus’s daughter. Not as a performance. Not to go viral. Just quietly, confidently, following his Master.
It was as if Peter remembered Jesus' words, "Talitha cumi," and in faith, said, "Tabitha cumi." The echo is intentional, and beautiful.
And in that moment, I felt it:
If I would just fully trust Jesus. Not halfway, not only when it makes sense. Then my life would start to look more like that. Not because I want the miracle, but because He is the reward.
“Peter Wasn’t Trying to Prove Something. He Was Trying to Reflect Someone”
That’s how pastor and commentator David Guzik put it. And I can’t shake it. Peter wasn’t trying to show off his spiritual power. He wasn’t trying to relive a moment from the Gospels. He had simply been shaped by time with Jesus. And when the moment came, he knew what to do. Not because he planned it, but because he had been formed for it.
F.F. Bruce notes that this wasn’t imitation for imitation’s sake. It was continuation. What Jesus started, Peter was now stepping into. The ministry didn’t die when Jesus ascended; it lived on in His Spirit-filled disciples.
John Stott also saw the transformation: “This was the same Peter who had once blundered in fear and pride. Now, grace had done its work.” And what a work it was. Turning a reckless fisherman into a resurrected image-bearer.
Amen!
And then there's N.T. Wright, who calls this “resurrection-shaped ministry.” That phrase keeps echoing in my heart. This moment with Tabitha wasn’t random. It was a preview of the age to come, when Jesus makes all things new. It’s like the curtain between heaven and earth opened a crack, and light broke through.
Raised for the Sake of Others
Another thing that wrecked me: Tabitha wasn’t raised from the dead for her own benefit.
As Matthew Henry reminded, “She would have enjoyed heaven better!” But she was brought back because her ministry wasn’t finished. The widows she clothed. The lives she touched. The small, faithful acts of love she poured out in quiet, unnoticed ways. They mattered. And God wasn’t done using her yet.
We often think miracles are for our benefit, but sometimes, they’re for our assignment. Tabitha’s return was a mercy for others. A testimony to the church. A reminder that what we do in love is never wasted.
It also wasn’t flashy. Peter didn’t wave his hands or command the room. Augustine described Peter as the instrument, not the power: “Peter was the instrument. The Lord was the hand.”
So What About Us?
What if the reason we’re still breathing isn’t because we’ve been forgotten. But because we’re still needed?
Tabitha got up because someone else needed her.
And maybe you’re still standing because someone needs you, too.
I don’t know what dead situation God may call you to step into. I don’t know what "upper room" He might be leading you to. But I do know this: the call is the same.
Pray. Trust. Speak life. Reflect Jesus.
If God never does another miracle in my life, He’s already done enough. He gave me salvation when all I deserved was separation. But if He does call me to speak to dead things…
I want to be the kind of person who kneels, listens, and says,
“Get up.”
Not because I’m strong.
But because He is.