Last week was an extremely busy and hectic week, and I'll write about that later, but this is what's on my heart right at this moment.
My favorite story from the Bible is the one about the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years that is in Mark 5 (just in case you want to read it for yourself, which I highly recommend!!). My version of the story goes like this:
So there's this woman who has been bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. Twelve years worth! People around her know her as "the bleeding woman". She's been bleeding for so long that no one takes the time to listen to her complain about it. No one wants to hear about her misfortunes any more. I mean, really, 12 years? Everyone is probably sick of hearing her moans and groans about the blood that troubles her so. She doesn't know what to do.
And then she hears that this guy named Jesus has been healing people. He's been restoring sight, making the lame walk, and performing miracles. "Oh, if I could only touch the edge of his cloak", she thinks to herself. So she goes to the place where He is. But when she gets there He is surrounded by people. She is jostled about, bumped and bruised, all in hopes of getting close enough to Jesus. Not so close that He can see her or even talk to her. Not so close that she is up in His face stating her worries.
Just close enough.
Close enough to lightly brush her fingers across the edge of His cloak.
Close enough to let the tips of her hands gently grasp the dirty fabric just slightly.
And instantly she was healed. Her dreams had come true and she was no longer slave to the infirmity which troubled her so.
Jesus felt her touch His cloak. Here was a man who was bumped and jostled just as she was. Hands grabbed at Him, voices called out His name, yet He knew. He knew someone had touched His cloak. He questioned His disciples as to who brushed His garment with their hand, but they looked at Him as if He were crazy. "How in the world could He tell someone touched His cloak?" they whispered to each other.
But Jesus knew.
He searched for the woman, and amidst her fear and trembling, and SHAME, she stood before Him. This was not a woman who wanted to be a bother to anyone anymore. This was not a woman who proudly cried out to Jesus along with the others. She was hurting, she was embarrassed, and she had enough faith that she believed that a mere brush of her skin against Jesus' cloak would be enough to heal her. She didn't need Him to speak the words. She didn't need Him to even touch her skin directly. She trusted.
And Jesus took the time to hear her story. Among the bustling crowds and cries of the people He had come to save, Jesus knew that she had touched Him, and He cared enough to take the time to hear what she had to say. This was a woman who had likely been outcast by her peers. This is a woman whose groans were likely an annoyance to those around her. But Jesus listened. He heard her, He cared about her, and He loved her enough to drop everything that He was doing to notice that she needed Him.
This is my favorite story in the Bible because it says so much about the character of Jesus.
He is not a God who is too busy or too rushed to take the time to listen.
He is not a God who doesn't notice our fears, our pains, and our shame.
He listens.
The knowledge that there is a God who listens to the cries and pains of my youth even when I am unable to hear them gives me comfort.
Knowing that He notices each and every one of them even if they're barely brushing their fingers against His cloak gives me peace.
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