For the long illness that has made hope cautious.
A certain woman, who had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and had suffered many things by many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better, but rather grew worse, having heard the things concerning Jesus, came up behind him in the crowd, and touched his clothes. For she said, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately the flow of her blood was dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Immediately Jesus, perceiving in himself that the power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd, and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” His disciples said to him, “You see the multitude pressing against you, and you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” He looked around to see her who had done this thing. But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what had been done to her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be cured of your disease.”
Long illness can make hope feel embarrassing rather than sturdy. Twelve years of symptoms, costly treatments, and worsening condition can leave a person wary of promising stories; the body has become evidence against easy reassurance. You may want Christ’s help while dreading another disappointment, and you may prefer to remain behind others, reaching quietly so no one asks for the whole account. There is no shame in that guardedness.
The woman comes from behind through a crowd, her hand finding the edge of Jesus’ clothing. Then the moment refuses to stay anonymous: Jesus stops, turns, and asks who touched him. He does not treat her as a disturbance swallowed by the press of bodies. She comes trembling and tells him all the truth—not a polished testimony, but the costly, worsening history. Christ’s attentive mercy makes room for the person as well as the affliction.
In this scene, Jesus calls her Daughter before he sends her in peace; he does not name her by her disease. The incarnate Son has entered bodily into human weakness, and at the cross he bears sin and shame without turning away from those who come trembling. This does not tell you how long your illness will last. It tells you that your suffering is seen by Christ, and that his mercy is not hurried past you.
Christ’s attentive mercy makes room for the person as well as the affliction.
Jesus, I release my need to appear strong. Attend to my hidden fear and weary body; keep me near your cross, and teach me to trust your mercy today. Amen.
Bring one honest question to today’s Scripture.
Sign in to ask a question.
Questions are part of membership. Learn about membership.
Thank you. Your response has been received.