I read about the regulations for a woman's time of the month (she is impure for 7 days afterward and anyone who touches her is unclean for 7 days). And then I read these verses: "When a woman has a discharge of blood for many days at a time other than her monthly period or has a discharge that continues beyond her period, she will be unclean as long as she has the discharge... Any bed she lies on while her discharge continues will be unclean... and anything she sits on will be unclean... Whoever touches them will be unclean..." (Leviticus 15:25-27) I couldn't help contemplating the terrible isolation and embarrassment of such a woman. She is unclean, virtually anything she touches is unclean, and any person who not only touches her but touches anything she has touched is unclean. How awful, how defective, how alone must such a woman feel?
And then it hit me. Such was the woman who fearfully but desperately touched the hem of Jesus' robe. Remember her? Jesus was busy, surrounded by huge crowds, and He was on His way to the home of the very important Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, to ultimately heal his young daughter. Surely He should have been a bit overwhelmed by the teeming horde surrounding Him and preoccupied by the critical task He was about to perform (which actually ended up being the raising of the young girl from the dead).
How could He not have been preoccupied or overwhelmed? Boy, we sure would have been. O, but not our Savior. He is never too busy, never too rushed, never too focused on something else more pressing, never too engrossed in His own agenda to fail to love and heal and encourage a seeking or hopeless heart.
And surely she knew hopelessness and desperation and loneliness. Luke 8 tells us she had suffered from "a discharge of blood for 12 years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone." (Lk 8:43) Think of it: 12 years of being unclean. 12 years of contaminating anything she sat upon or lay upon. 12 years of other people fearful to be even just in her general vicinity for fear of being made unclean. Did she have children or a husband? We don't know, but if she did, I'm betting they weren't ever in her presence. And since she spent all her living on doctors, it sounds like she might not have had any kind of family to help her or encourage her through her long, dark nightmare of loneliness and disgrace.
Have you ever experienced such piercing loneliness that you felt utterly bereft? Have you ever felt like such a failure or so disgraced or so alienated that you were overwhelmed with the sense of desperation or discouragement or defeat? I just cannot begin to imagine her loneliness and despair... but my Savior can. He, too, would experience agonizing loneliness and rejection and betrayal and shame when He bore your sins and my sins, on a lonely cross, located "outside the camp" at Calvary.
But back to this woman. We're told that "She came up behind Him and touched the fringe of His garment, and immediately the discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, 'Who was it that touched Me?' When all denied it, Peter said, 'Master, the crowds surround You and are pressing in on you!' But Jesus said, 'Someone touched Me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.' And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before Him, declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed. And He said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace." (Lk 8:44-48)
He is God. He knows all things, and yet He asked who had touched Him. I kept thinking about that. Why would He do that? I'm guessing it had nothing to do with Jesus not knowing who had touched Him. I'm thinking my Sovereign all-knowing Lord asked the question not for Himself but for that poor, lonely woman's sake. Look at her--trembling, fearful, hidden, and then for the first time in 12 years, she comes out into the open and declares that she has been healed. Healed! Whole for the first time for as long as she can remember. I wonder is she had forgotten what it was like to hear the sound of her voice speaking out loud to real people. To feel what it was like not to be a pariah, sneaking around, trying to make herself invisible.
You know, Jesus could have just allowed her to be healed by touching the hem of His garment and then letting her slink off. And that would have been pretty spectacular--to be healed of a terrible, mysterious illness that had isolated and impoverished her. But then, she wouldn't have heard the sound of His voice. Or seen the soft but piercing gaze of His eyes upon her--only upon her. Or heard Him, the Almighty Savior, call her "daughter." Or heard His commendation that "your faith has healed you." Or listened to the glorious, unforgettable words, "Go in peace" spoken by the only One in the world who could actually give her true and lasting peace.
And neither would we.
O what a Savior. O what grace and goodness and thoughtfulness.
You can bet she was never ever the same. She had been healed, but more importantly, she had been recognized and known and encouraged and loved by the Savior.
I don't know what you might be enduring right now. Perhaps you have lost a dearly beloved husband or wife or child. Perhaps you feel like a failure. Perhaps you are overwhelmed with discouragement or fear or futility. Will you, like this woman, come to the Savior? Will you take your loneliness or sorrow or hopelessness to Him and trust Him with your heart and your hurt? He may heal in some dramatic way. Or He may simply give you a sense of His presence and His power and His peace as never before in the midst of whatever you are enduring. We may not always understand His ways. But we can know Him and His incomparable love and His amazing grace and His supernatural peace.
Just like a lonely desperate woman on a dusty road in the midst of a teeming crowd over 2000 years ago.
He still heals. He still knows. He still comforts. He still encourages. He still loves. He is still the Lord of the lonely. And He still redeems and restores... one person at a time. To the gracious, loving, kind and powerful Savior, be all the glory.
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