A nameless woman.
She had been afflicted with an inexplicable bleeding for twelve years. No doctor had been able to help. Her condition worsened daily. She was a rich widow, whose sickness had stripped her of her wealth. Maybe she was not a widow –maybe her husband deserted her – we would never know.
She was nameless now, her only appellation a daily reminder of her condition: the woman with the issue of blood. No one knew her real name – she wasn’t relevant to the society. Everywhere she went, people let her know she was a third class citizen, if not less.
The nature of her disease was still under study – no results yet. The scientists and doctors of her day had not come up with a cure or treatment. They could do little to help. In fact, they could do nothing. They had inspected, palpated, percussed and auscultated. No definite diagnosis. Even if they knew, there was no plan of management. Her blood, urine and stool samples did not lead them anywhere. If there was an imaging device, it picked nothing.
There was no treatment available. She had to die. She had lost hope.
Or maybe not, because when she heard that Jesus was in town, she got up, her mind making up a plan. She had to meet the man who claimed to be the Son of God – if he could help.
But there was a problem. Her condition had caused her immense shame so much that she could no longer go out. But somehow, she managed to follow the trail of footmarks, thanks to the crowd that bustled, jostled and shoved each other just to catch a glimpse of the man who said He is the Son of God – the King of Glory. They barely noticed her, save few people who quickly flinched away on seeing her, and muttered expletives at her, but she didn’t care.
She went on, taking the risk to trust Jesus. It’s worth a try, I could hear her say. She resigned like the three Hebrew children: Even if I get mocked, I will get my healing. And if I don’t, it will be worth a try.
The people bumped against each other, struggling to keep His face in their view, wanting to hear His words and to receive the miracles and healing.
She couldn’t struggle. But her determined mind thought, “if only I can touch Him.” Then she slipped through the slits between by touching bodies. Her movement might have been slow, nevertheless, progressive, and focused on the aim: to touch the hem of His robe.
Her body may be sick and weak, but her mind was strong as ever. While everyone seemed to want to see Jesus and hold His hand, she was satisfied with and believed she would receive her healing by touching the edge of Jesus’ robe.
So while others reached up, elbow to elbow with others, butting anyone that stands in the way, she stooped down and sought the hem of that seamless garment.
“Who touched me?” The Master stopped dead in His tracks.
What a ridiculous question. The disciples could not believe what they heard.
“But master, you’ve got crowds of people on our hands. Dozens have touched you.” Peter responded.
But Jesus identified a seeker’s touch, not a mistake or the touch of the vast crowd who were pressing against Him, most of whom were lost in the frenzy. It was the touch of a human, desperate to contact the divine – the touch that always made a difference.
Many people are caught up in the religious rat race. We jostle and shove and fight our way to attention, pulling others down in the process. We struggle to catch a glimpse of God’s kingdom with our activities and service in Church, but we know it’s just for the records. For the accolades men will rain on us and the reputation we would get.
The true Midas’ touch is not one motivated by excitement, not from sycophants or spectators. But it comes from the faith of the heart and the will of the mind. It is the touch of someone that seeks the King above all things.
“Someone touched me; I felt power discharging from me.” Jesus spotted a power attracting touch – the touch that alerts Heaven and gets God’s attention.
When you touch Jesus, he calls you.
She realized she could not remain hidden. You can’t remain hidden when you touch Jesus. He will want to meet with you, because He’s excited on spotting a true worshipper.
She came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”
She got her physical healing, and as you would expect, the spiritual one too. Jesus wouldn’t leave her without leading her into eternal life. He would give her the full package.
The touch of only a few persons makes a difference these days. Only a purposeful touch gets Jesus’ attention. A touch from the heart and mind prepared to meet Him. Not a show off but of a humble and believing heart. Isaiah 66:2.
Many would still remember the Greek mythology of King Midas, who, as a gift for his hospitality, was given the ability to turn everything he touched to gold. But this touch got Him into trouble.
But there is a touch greater than that of Midas’. It is the touch that makes an eternal difference. It is when men touch God.
Why do you seek Jesus? What makes you happy? Is it when you stand as a spectator of signs and wonders? Is it to be known as ‘he saw Jesus’ or to really know Him as a person?
Seeking God’s visitation and habitation? All you need to do is to touch God.
In our daily application of this truth, humility is a touch that draws God’s attention. An obedient spirit is a Midas’ touch. A sincere prayer is a touch that calls heaven’s attention. A diligent study of God’s Word with a mind to know God and obey Him with all you have will bring down God’s power over your life. A heart ready to live for Christ is one that touches God too.
The woman with the issue of blood came humbly. When you touch God with a humble and sincere heart, he comes after you. He looks for you and meets your greatness need with His great goodness.
Have you touched God?