Devotions

I awoke from a dream. I dreamed of peace and freedom from suffering; but I soon realized it was only a dream. The cheerful song of the sparrow fell on my ears, but my heart remained dark and heavy. I came to this village and spent the last of my money and the last of my hope seeking a doctor to cure my infirmity. The so-called cure proved to be just like all the others: expensive, painful, and worthless. I had accepted my shame, weakness, pain, and soon death as inevitable.

My disappointment and depression led me to a shadowed corner to sit and pray the same hopeless prayer I had offered for 12 long years. My only answer was a dream that rapidly evaporated as my mind awoke fully to my wretched reality.

The excited chatter of several people down the street shook the afternoon quiet. They spoke of a healer, and my attention riveted on each word. They told of a man called Jesus. He had arrived by boat and was at the shore. I knew the name but I never dreamed that I would ever encounter the man. Some called him a prophet, some Elijah, and some even suggested that he was the Son of God. His reputation as a worker of miracles preceded him wherever he went.

An energy of New Hope caused me to rise to my feet and follow others to the lakeshore. My heart lifted with a thought, “Your prayers are answered.” I dared to tell myself there was Hope in this man Jesus. But how could I possibly approach such a great man and tell him of my shame, an issue of blood that never ceases. The crowd would cast me away—perhaps even stone me. The healer would not give attention to a poor unclean woman. But I assured myself, "If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Could I risk defiling the man by touching his garment? But the thought persisted, and I kept telling myself, "If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed."

I approached the crowd and my fears were confirmed. People thronged around the Healer. One of the synagogue leaders used his authority and position to make his way to Jesus. I watched as he humbly fell to the ground and entreated the Healer to restore his daughter’s health. It appeared that Jesus had agreed to go with him. My last chance for healing left with the synagogue leader down the street. How could I touch the hem of his garment?

People pushed and shoved to get closer to Jesus. But my attention drew to a crack in the crowd, so I pressed forward toward my Hope. I pushed through my pain and mustered every bit of strength as my faith grew and my heart confirmed, "If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed." One man roughly shoved another, opening an additional gap bringing me one step closer to Jesus. Another pushed me from behind to within inches of my Savior. I reached to grasp the hem of his cloak. I missed but tried again. Again I was thrust ahead from behind. My hand brushed the edge of his clothing. Immediately my reflex was to draw back as if I had touched something hot. An incredible energy flowed throughout my body, and instantly an awareness of healing filled my soul. The pain disappeared. The bleeding stopped. Faith and Hope gave birth to new Life.

My amazement soon turned to terror as Jesus stopped the crowd and turned to those around him asking, "Who touched my clothes?" Confused, his disciples replied, "You see the people crowding against you, and yet you can ask, 'Who touched me?'"

Jesus knew what I’d done. I’d stolen his power, and I would not flee without punishment. I turned to run, but the people blocked my escape. I looked over my shoulder and saw him looking for the one who had done this thing. I had dared to defile him with a touch. His eyes locked onto mine. I’d been discovered. His eyes drew me back, and with fear and trembling I fell at his feet. Not daring to look him in the face, I told him the whole truth about my infirmity, my search for help and my plan to touch his cloak in hopes of drawing from his healing power.

He spoke with an unexpected compassion that calmed all my fears: "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace, and be freed from your suffering." He called me “Daughter” as if I were his only child. Jesus affirmed the reality of my healing. He made me whole and gave me Life in response to my faith. It wasn't just a dream. It was my dream come true.