Twelve Years

It started on a day just like any other day.

“There’s nothing to worry about”, she was told every time she tried to express her concern. “Even the law gives us extra days of grace”, they assured her, “These things happen sometimes”.

Something’s not right. She just knew. Beyond the physical, she could feel it.

One week.

Two weeks.

Six months.

Seven years.

She did all she could.

Well wishers had run out of ideas.

Eight years.

Ten years.

But she kept searching, seeking a solution to this problem that had marked her significantly, and in some way, had become the definition of who she had become — who she was.

She was the woman with the issue of blood.

But she kept going.

She kept on searching.

Day by day, doing all she could. Sometimes, alone.

Why?

Maybe it was hope — hope that one day she would find the relief she so desperately needed.

Maybe it was some strange form of resignation and acceptance of a lie that had portrayed itself as her reality.

She kept seeking.

Eleven years.

The flow would just not stop.

But there is a God in Israel, and He works miracles.

They had been told stories of His mighty works and wonders.

Jehovah is the God who saves.

He heals.

He delivers.

And He keeps His Word.

He has said, “I am the LORD that healeth thee”.

Twelve years.

And she had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse.

Then she heard of Jesus.

And when she heard, she believed.

And believing, she determined in her heart and worked out a path, guided by the light of faith and hope that now burned brighter.

“If I may touch but His clothes, I shall be whole”, she said.

This path before her, it wasn’t the norm.

The way it was done, sick people needing healing from God would meet the servant of God who would pray, and lay hands on them.

But by the law, she was unclean. No one would lay hands on her.

But she came.

She pushed through the crowd — this sick, frail woman, carrying the stench of twelve years of constant bleeding.

See this woman, now poor from spending all she had on physicians that were of no help, and so unable to afford whatever provisions were available for proper sanitary care. And also deemed unclean by the law.

No one would come close (at least, no one would want to).

But when she heard that Jesus was passing by, she made her way through the crowd.

See this crowd give way — one person at a time — until she came in the press behind, and touched His garment.

And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.

After twelve years.

Propelled by faith that came by hearing, she did a thing that caused power to come out of Jesus, so much so that He turned around and asked, “Who touched My clothes?”

She wasn’t the only one in the crowd that day.

She wasn’t the only one who needed a miracle that day.

She wasn’t the only one with faith that day.

She wasn’t the only one that had decided on a course of action that day.

But she did something with her faith, and God honoured her faith because it was faith that was placed in Him.

How long has it been for you?

What have you heard?

Where is your faith placed?

Can you still believe?

Jesus is passing by again today—

What would you do?