In last week’s post I described God as the One who loves us uniquely. In the coming weeks I’d like to make that point with examples from Scripture, starting with the story below told in Mark 5:21-34.
Once upon a time Johanna had counted herself richly blessed. Despite losing her share of babies, she rejoiced in her fine husband, who was a good provider, and their darling son who had survived into manhood. But since her last stillborn – twelve years ago now – when her health faltered – life had spiraled into misery. How many doctors with how many different concoctions had they tried only to find her condition worsening as her husband’s pockets emptied? Yet, that is not even half the story. The shame of the constant bleeding – the mess, the smell, the worrying threat of embarrassment if she spent too much time in public – was bad enough. Worse though, was the toll on her marriage. The last dozen years had afforded her scarcely a handful of days when she could present herself ritually clean to her husband. How he had not deserted her, she could not fathom.
Lately, however, there had been this talk about a healer – Jesus – a carpenter from Galilee. Somehow hope had sprung up in her, moving her to get herself out to the marketplace each morning – just in case. Then, this morning he arrived! He and his followers came in by boat and were immediately mobbed with the townsfolk.
As Johanna struggled to get closer – just to see him – she spied Jairus, the leader of their synagogue! She knew how his young daughter’s illness had taken a bad turn, and that most expected her not to recover. “There is so much pain in the world,” she shuddered to herself.
Next, she heard Jairus pleading with Jesus, “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.” Jairus had such conviction in his voice. In that moment she knew: “This Jesus can make me well.”
As Jesus and the crowd headed straightway to Jairus’ home they were actually walking right toward her. The thought sped into her mind, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” With no time to ponder what made her so bold, she simply reached out and touched the hem of his robe and – in that instant she knew her affliction was gone!
Jesus stopped short. “Who touched me?” It wasn’t accusatory but it was demanding.
His disciples scoffed, “What do you mean – you’re surrounded by people?”
But Johanna knew. She had been found out! Almost against her own will she sank to the ground engulfed in sobs. She had not meant to steal a healing! It was just that she knew that he could make her well. But she didn’t want to disturb him with asking, or make a scene for herself, or, worst of all, detain him from saving Jairus’ sweet child. Words tumbled from her mouth incoherently. She was sorry. She knew she was unworthy, especially compared to Jairus’ family. It was just that she’d been sick for so long.
Without waiting for her story to finish, Jesus had knelt beside her, tenderly lifting her chin to turn up her bowed head. Gazing straight into her heart, he spoke, “Daughter, you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed! Be healed of your plague.”
Even as they rushed him away to Jairus’ home his look of kindness lingered in her mind’s eye. Her tears ebbed, replaced with overwhelming joy. He had wanted to give her her life back – to make her whole.
She had to get going. She had to tell her husband – her son – well, everyone! She worked her way against the crowd and broke into a run.
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