Read Mark 5:21-34.
Today our reading brings us to Jesus’ encounter with the woman with the issue of blood. As we begin our time together, I want you to take some time to take a moment and be still in God’s Presence, considering His Word and letting this scene unfold before you. I’ve included an audio version of the Scripture passage as well. It is sometimes easier for me to listen to the Scriptures as I let God minister to me, so if that would be helpful to you, you can listen to me reading the passage as you allow the Spirit of God to meet you where you are.
Click here to listen to the audio if you are viewing this in your email.
Some things to consider as you read or listen:
Picture Jesus meeting this woman as you watch the scene unfold.
How did He minister to the bleeding woman?
How do you perceive that He felt toward her?
How did she respond?
What might the Spirit of God be trying to tell you as you listen/read?
She ducked as she slipped through the crowd. An elbow grazed her ear. A man stepped back and knocked her forward. A child’s foot danced over hers, but nothing deterred her. In fact, the opportunity for anonymity spurred her on. By Jewish Law and societal pressures, this woman’s condition would have forced her to live an isolated life. Physical contact with her would render another ceremonially unclean. Those around her had learned to keep their distance, and she had learned to stay away. What do we know of this that we didn’t three weeks ago?
In their own excited frenzy, this crowd of people surrounding Christ provided the cover she needed to approach the Man who embodied her only remaining hope.
What holds us back from approaching our Healer?
When Jesus was finally close enough to touch, she reached out boldly for the hem of His robe.
In a time when six feet is considered too close, and social distancing has become the norm, how grateful I am that our Healer’s own wellness is not threatened by disease. Instead of our illness making Him ill, His wellness somehow makes us well.
I don’t know why some people are healed physically this side of heaven and some aren’t. I don’t know why some healing is immediate and some takes time. But I do know that I would rather engage my Healer than quietly nurse my own wounds. I would rather reach out for His cloak with my last bit of faith and hope than stand silent in a crowd and assume He wouldn’t move to heal me. I’m pretty sure that whether or not the bleeding stops, I’d rather be clinging to the hem of Christ’s robe than releasing hope altogether.
In her case, “immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease” (Mark 5:29). Amazement soon gave way to uncertain anxiety as Jesus turned toward the crowd, “Who touched My garments?”
I imagine that at this point, the woman faced a dilemma. She had already sensed her healing. She could have remained anonymous. Even Jesus’ disciples inadvertently offered her a way out, explaining to Jesus that there was no way to know who touched Him: a whole crowd was reaching toward and jostling the Lord.
Jesus was focused, though. He was unhurried. Jesus continued looking through the throngs of people for the one who had touched Him. He had felt that power had left Him, and He wanted to know to whom it had gone.
Her body was healed, but Jesus also had in mind the things of the heart.
“The woman,” the Scripture reads, “knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth” (Mark 5:33).
She told Him the whole truth. I love that. Haven’t we all done that? A question or a comment or a well-timed look sparks something in us. There is sometimes a brief moment where silence is still an option. But then–not sure where to begin or where to end–words pour from our lips and splash all over another. There might be tears. There might be nervous laughter. There might be that awkward moment when we realize we’ve just “told the whole truth” whether or not they were really asking to hear it. And we wait and pray and hope that either they will respond or we will disappear.
I don’t have some big secret that I’m keeping from the Lord. I’m not withholding something that might shock Him–or even you for that matter. But there are some thoughts brimming just below the surface, and I’ve spent too much time measuring words that I should have just gone ahead and said. It’s a hard habit to break.
We find ourselves in a time when our minds are reeling from an overload of information and an absence of clarity.
We have to pause. We have to release these jumbled thoughts and whirling what-ifs. And we have the amazing privilege of opening our hearts and opening our mouths and pouring our words out before a God who turns to His daughter and wants our “whole truth”.
There is a quote that I still remember from a journal I had in the sixth grade:
“Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.” -Dinah Marie Mulock
Yes, such comfort. Several years ago, told a newer friend a detail of my story that I don’t tell many people. It isn’t even scandalous, but it involves a few too many people to share openly. You know the kind. We all have them. But I told her, and she said, “Oh, yeah, I had already figured that out.” Oh. Well, then. Good.
Sometimes our secrets tell us before we tell them. But there is such freedom in the speaking of them–in the right place, to the right people, at the right time.
Like that friend who had already figured it out but waited for me to decide to share, our God looks at our hearts and lets the unspoken things remain until we are ready to give them voice.
He knows. But He waits.
He stands in the middle of a bustling crowd and asks who has reached for Him. And we stand, longing to fall before Him but terrified of it too. Longing to step out and be seen but terrified of being exposed.
Until the pressure of it builds in our chest, and the fear of being passed by is greater than the fear of being known.
And we lay before Him, and the words fall out choppy and unmeasured. And we stop trying to make sense of it, and we just tell Him what we know, what we saw, what has happened.
And it doesn’t feel at all holy, but we know it somehow is.
There she lay, on the ground before the Lord in front of a mass of people, wondering what He might say. Would He be angry that she had touched Him? Would He be appalled by her? Ashamed of her? Would He be annoyed by the delay? Would others laugh? Would she care? Would He revoke the healing? Could He?
There is safety in anonymity, and I’d have understood it if she’d chosen to slip away.
But then His response: “Daughter, your faith has healed you…” (Mark 5:34). He called her daughter.
Tell Him the whole truth, daughter. Because He is a Father who is faithful to comfort, to heal, to cover. Because He already knows but longs to hear.
Because He knows there is healing in the telling.
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Take a moment and consider: what holds you back from approaching the Lord? What are you afraid might happen? What are you afraid might not happen? Allow yourself to be still and consider this and to be honest about it.
Could we be as brave as this woman? Could we dare approach the Christ who’s bid us come? The Spirit of Christ can heal bodies and hearts and minds. He can mend marriages and friendships. He can bind up brokenness whether it be spiritual or physical. Come as you are to the Lord today. Reach out for His cloak. Ask Him for His healing. What kind of healing do you need?
Can you think of a time when you released a secret and found healing and freedom as you did?
By what name did Jesus call the woman in Mark 5:34? What did He assure her of?
What is true about our identity in Christ according to Romans 8:14-17?
Take some time now, in the presence of our Lord, to “tell Him the whole truth.” Tell Him how badly it hurts. Tell Him how it feels when no one else understands. Tell Him how much courage it took to push through the throng of people to reach for His robe. Tell Him how excited you were when you first sensed your healing. Tell Him how disappointed you were when the healing seemed to fail. Tell Him what you’re afraid of. Tell Him everything. Open your mouth and begin to speak. Talk until you’re finished. Even with everything else that is going on the world, He has all the time you need.
