The woman heard Jesus was coming to town. This was her chance. She had to go for it. All her wealth she wasted on doctors, and had nothing left. No money, and in addition, no family, no friends, no community, she had lost everything. Everything except for one thing: her faith.
With the last ounce of hope and energy she had left inside, she pushed through the crowd with all her might. A part of her was afraid. However, disregarding all the social conventions of her time, she decided to hush the fear of the consequences of defying the norms, and with the only thing left inside, her faith, she pushed. She pushed, knowing this was her only hope and that she would either be healed or die trying that day. If only she could touch the hem of His garment, she knew she would be healed. And with every step she took toward Jesus, her faith grew stronger.
The woman was getting closer and closer, and when she saw the opportunity, she stretched her arm as far as possible. As she fell to the ground, the tip of her finger touched the hem of His dress. Feeling instant relief, she knew she was healed.
Then she heard those three words… “Who touched Me?”
Fear invaded her, and as the crown halted to a deafening silence, a cold drop of sweat rolled from her forehead, staining the ground. A single drop of sweat that carried the memories of years of bloodstained undergarments and the social stain no water or soap could get off her. Society unjustly stripped away her worth as a woman for suffering an illness she could do nothing about. Unable to raise her head or stand up she finally whispered under her breath: “It was me”. After that, she heard one of His disciples talk and Jesus talk again but couldn’t concentrate on any of the things they were saying, she was gathering the courage to say it louder… “It was me, Jesus, it was me!”
Suddenly, stepping on the sweat stain, she saw a foot, then a hand. A hand? Was somebody offering her a hand? Was somebody willing to touch her? No one had touched her in years; the warm feeling of human contact was already something foreign to her.
As she reached for the hand, she heard the most beautiful words she had heard in her entire life.
He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering“
“Daughter, your faith has healed you”
But wait, could it be… Jesus! It was Jesus! Oh, beautiful Jesus!
He acknowledged her, cared for her, cherished her, and above all, valued her. Her worth as a woman, her worth as a human being was not in any social status or health situation, her worth was in Jesus, her Savior!
The woman with the issue of blood is you, is me. If you are reading this, chances are that, similarly to the woman of the issue of blood, you need a miracle.
That woman that chooses to hold on to faith, can also be you and me. When the harshness of life strips you of everything you have, don’t let it strip away your faith, and don’t let it strip away your sense of worth. Remember, your worth is in Jesus, your Savior.
You may also like: