My sisters.

 

There was a girl, a woman who had lived her whole life in shame.

She had lived her whole life thinking that she wasn’t good enough, that she was different and not acceptable to her society or her culture.

12 years of hiding, of walking with her head down, of staying home, of struggling to find answers about, “why me.. why me?”

And one day, out of the corner of her eye,

She saw a man.

This man was different than all other men… for this man’s name was Jesus.

She had heard rumors of this Jesus. And she believed that he was, indeed, the Messiah.

So she sprang up.

She ran to Jesus. She pushed aside the crowd and wriggled her way to the center until she was right next to him.

This was it.

“Could he possibly heal me?”

“Could he possibly make me well?”

“Oh yes, yes, If I only touch his garment, I will be made well.”

 

And so she reached out, straining her fingers, and leaned and leaned.

And she touched just the fringe of the robe on this man named Jesus.

 

Oh, my sister, how deeply am I that girl.

How deeply in shame was I.

How deeply did I believe that I was not good enough for this culture, for these people.

How deeply did I think that none would love me.

 

And oh, my sister, how deeply is Jesus for me.

When everyone else walked away or wouldn’t come at all. When no one could help. When no one noticed that I was there, that I was, indeed in that crowd.

When I thought that there was no hope left for me.

 

I heard of a man. His name was Jesus.

Could he really be all that people say he was?

Could he really heal me?

Could he really set me free of my guilt and shame?

Would he really love me?

 

Yes.

And so she reached out, straining her fingers, and leaned and leaned.

And she touched just the fringe of the robe on this man named Jesus.

 

And just like that.

She was healed.

And, my friend, if I know anything about the healing of Jesus, it’s that in no way does it stop at the physical healing.

Now, this girl, this woman was healed of her bleeding.

But, it goes further…. The shame, the self-consciousness, the denial, the questions, the rejection..

It all ceased.

She was healed.

Oh, what light did she feel in that moment! How wonderful is that first moment of freedom. Crisper air in her lungs, brighter colors all around, a sense of peace balming her heart.

 

And a man’s voice came.

“Who was it that touched me?”

 

She hid. She didn’t speak.

It was all she ever knew to do.

“Yes, Jesus is wonderful enough to heal me, but to give me his time? To speak to me? No, I am not worth that.”

“Or, is he mad? Did I step too far? Did I come too close? Was I wrong; is he not for one like me?”
She heard the crowd denying that they were the one to touch the Messiah.

She heard Peter, who appeared to be his disciple, saying ,”Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you.”

But one more time, still focused, she heard this man, Jesus, saying, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.”

 

And she knew. She knew that she must come forward, that Jesus himself knew. She could not hide; she could not keep silent.

Trembling, falling down at his feet, she came and stumbled through words explaining why she touched Jesus, and that now, she was healed.

 

She got done speaking. A brief moment passed… silence, everyone was waiting for Jesus.

She slowly looked up, and found him looking down at her, eyes of grace and a compassion she had not yet seen.

With locked eyes, this man named Jesus said, “Daughter..”

 

Daughter.

I came before this man I heard of, before this man named Jesus.

And I knew I wasn’t hidden. I knew that he knew everything.

And I thought, did I come too far? Did I come too close? Is he too good, too holy, too perfect for one like me?

And I fell at his feet, trembling and rambling with void words in trying to explain why I, a wretch, was coming to the King.

And he waited, he listened to me. He is patient, good Lord.

And when I was done, when I was all cried out and had everything out of me…

He said, “Daughter.”

 

Daughter?

Daughter.

How passionate the affection and adoration in that one word.

Could he really have called me daughter?

Not woman. Not slave. Not outsider. Not outcast nor reject.

But daughter.

A daughter of God. How much my heart leapt in that one word.

 

With locked eyes, this man, named Jesus said, “Daughter… your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

And in that, the woman, the girl knew that she was loved.

This man, Jesus did love and spoke love to a girl who had never known it quite like that.

 

He sees even the smallest, the dimmest spark of faith. And from that, he washes away our pain and rejection and shame with his love. His distinct, his piercing love.

He healed her.

He locked eyes with her.

He spoke to her.

He called her daughter.

He gave her a new life in one moment. And this new life is one where she is no longer ashamed nor fearful, but rather one where she knows that she is loved. A life where she knows who she is- a daughter. A life where she knows her Love’s name and voice.

 

It’s all we’ve ever needed.

Just to touch the fringe of his robe.

 

My sister, muster up the courage.

You have heard of this man, this man named Jesus.

You have heard us say that he is the Messiah, that he died for you, that he loves you.

Believe it.

Convince your heart. Be brave and be bold. Run ahead. Push through the crowd. And stretch your hand out just enough to touch even the fringe on his robe.

 

Just come to him.

Your life will never be the same after.

No, you don’t need to be at church. No, you don’t need a priest. No, you don’t need to be holding your Bible or on your knees or at an altar.

 

Jesus is so close. He’s passing through.

If you know him. Or just know of him.

He is ready to lock eyes with you and tell you of the love that he has for you.

Oh sister, come to know your Love’s name and His voice.

 

“Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

 

With much, much love. And my gaze locked on this man who loves me, yes, even me.  –Melissa

| From Matthew 9:20-22 and Luke 8:42-48 |

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