A woman walks slowly through the twilight…alone on her way home from the well. Occasionally she stumbles on the smallest stones. Her pale face is almost ghostly in the fading light. The few passers by still on the streets avoid her as though she is a specter. They recoil and step away. They are nearly right. She is not far from death. For twelve years she has wasted away with her disease. The law declares her unclean (Lev. 15). For more than a decade she has walked alone shunned by all who once called her friend. Ashamed of her very intimate illness she has withdrawn further and further from society until now the gloomy hours of day are often the only ones in which she ventures painfully from her home to the well for water. A distant relative leaves food on her doorstep every few days. Beyond this she is forced to be a recluse. Now a pale shadow of the woman she once was, her money used up on medical bills, she is without hope. She has tried everything to be well. Tomorrow she will try one last time. And if it doesn’t work….
The next day a crowd gathers on the shore. Jesus has returned from Gadara across the Sea of Galilee word has it that he has done spectacular things. “Even the demons bow to him,” someone whispers. As Jesus begins to make his way away from the boats, the crowd thickens, many clamor for his touch or to hear his voice. Many are those He touches but he steadily moves onward as though he has a purpose: somewhere to be.
Up ahead is a commotion bordering on bedlam. A struggle seems to be happening. A burly fisherman is attempting to stop what appears to be a half-crazy synagogue leader from getting closer to Jesus. Jesus speaks a firm quiet command and the fisherman releases the ruler who half runs, half trips his way to where Jesus has paused. He sobs out, “Master, please come my daughter is about to die.” His little girl is his pride and joy and he’s not stupid. As a leader among his people he has seen death many times and is no stranger to its signs. Now he has seen them in the eyes of his princess and he is desperate for help. Jesus looks with compassion on the man and takes him by the hand, lifting him to his feet, consenting to come to his aid.
The burly fisherman, who moments before pushed Jairus away, now shoulders into the crowd on his behalf clearing the way for the distraught father and the purposeful Christ striding forward through the throng. Even so, the seething mass of people still slows them down. Will they make it in time?
Early that morning she woke. For a long time she lay staring listlessly at the ceiling, watching the blackness give way to dimly-lit dusty stone. She hardly has energy to rise; waves of despair wash over her. Nevertheless, she slowly gets up and dresses in a once fine robe now stained and tattered. It is her best. She retrieves her few remaining coins and slowly heads down the path toward one last hope.
A few hours later, her coins gone, a worthless potion in a pouch dangles from her hands as she huddles near a low stone wall by the roadside. She has to rest. She is too weak to go on. A beggar gestures rudely at her as he passes by. He knows who she is; everybody does: the unclean one.
In the distance she hears a commotion. A crowd is coming; a large one by the sound of it. What’s going on? A teenage boy runs by. “What is happening?” She mumbles. The lad shouts over his shoulder, “Jesus is passing by!”
Jesus? She has heard his name. He is the Rabbi from Nazareth. He is the one the whole land is talking about. Her physicians have even complained they are losing business because He keeps healing people. Could he heal her? Surely not. She has heard the stories. He is a holy man who heals with his touch. She is untouchable. He is forbidden from touching her, an unclean one.
But what else can she do? She has no more money, no more potions, no more doctors, no more hope. She is going to die. She too recognizes the signs. As she thinks these thoughts, desperation motivates a flicker of faith…maybe…maybe He wouldn’t have to touch her. Maybe she could touch Him before he could know she was there. Maybe touching him in the heavy crowd would go unnoticed and still work for her.
Fear of losing the chance propels her to her feet as the crowd approaches. Summoning all her strength she frantically elbows into the crowd. Some recognize her and pull away. Others just jostle and shove not caring who she is. As the knot of people in the center draws near, she is shoved so hard that she falls forward into the dust. Breathless from the fall she looks up gasping and sees the tassels of a Rabbi’s robe near her face. With her last ounce of strength she reaches forth her hand and clutches the hem of his garment. His forward stride pulls it from her hand but immediately she is changed.
Strength courses through her body. Color washes into her face. The flesh on her bones fills out. Her bleeding stops. She knows she has touched the Master!
Jesus halts so abruptly he is nearly knocked down by the crowd. “Who touched me,” His commanding voice questions? The burly fisherman turns and stares incredulously at his Master. Lord, in this crowd you ask, “Who touched you?” (Basically, “Are you crazy?”) Jesus said, “Someone touched me for I felt ‘virtue’ go out of me.” (The word translated “virtue” here is the word “dunamis” from which we derive the word, “dynamite.” Jesus felt mighty, miracle-working, violent power go out of Him into the woman’s body.
Trembling, she knows He knows. But now she doesn’t care. She is well! She will endure any humiliation or punishment He dictates for her crime. The crowd parts as she walks slowly forward toward His piercing eyes. He looks into her face She sees a twinkle of God’s laughter and pleasure in His eyes. Simply he says, “Daughter, don’t be afraid. Your faith has saved thee. Go in peace.”
Desperation has been replaced by delight. Darkness replaced by light. Death replaced by life. Ashes exchanged for beauty; joy for mourning. Chaos replaced with peace. No longer shunned but accepted. No longer avoided but loved. No longer sick: she is whole.
All along Jesus knew her need. He knew she was coming. He was there intentionally available to be touched by her infirmity. But His presence and His power were not the only parts of the equation. Occasionally they are, but most often we see that Christ desires His presence and power to be combined with our faith so marvelous things which glorify the Father will happen.
