"Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years and though she spent all she had on physicians no one could cure her..." -Luke 8:43-48I see that woman. Desolate. Without reason to hope. Constantly trying to keep her own blood from leaving her body. In a culture where blood deems you unclean hers built a fortress around her.
Her loneliness must have been immense. Her desire to be accepted in the sight of her neighbors, even her own husband almost tangible. She spent everything she had. What did she give up in order to find healing? Each hour of labor, each wage, every ounce of hope, and prayer offered- all to be cured. Peering over the wall into the life that she could not have- community, acceptance, joy, health... She could not attain it on her own.
This Man, Jesus, came into town. How had she first heard of Him? What story was told? Did she hear about the others healing? Or notice the crowd? Was it only a day that passed before she had the courage to draw close to Him? An hour? A month? A year even? And when she arrive did the thought of making Him unclean stir fear in her? Or was His presence a charge into action? Perhaps His words were so full of love that she knew what He could do. He; He could make up for what she lacked.
That which The Savior chose to heal humanity made the Jew's food and people useless and untouchable. He too would experience His own blood leaving him. How Jesus would have looked upon this woman after He realized it was her who had faith in Him and called upon His saving power.
She touched His cloak with great faith and was made clean. His blood for hers. His family for hers. His comfort for hers. He took her hemorrhages upon Himself as he does for all who approach Him.
