Women of the Gospels: The Hemorrhaging Woman in Mark 5

My dearest Lord and Savior,

I am writing to You with tears in my eyes, a smile on my face, and a joy like I have never felt before in my heart. I wanted to express my utmost gratitude for all that You have done for me.

It has been a few weeks since our encounter, but those precious moments will be forever engraved on my heart.

I can hardly recognize that woman who snuck up on You.  I am an entirely new creation.

That woman was defeated, lonely, humiliated, frustrated, angry, and so, so afraid.

I had spent the last twelve years in search of a cure for my private illness.  Oh, how I wish it would have been private, but the constant bleeding made me ritually unclean.

It cost me so much!  The man I was betrothed to marry soon grew tired of waiting for my healing and married another woman.  I often see their young sons and daughter playing in the street—a pain I cannot express.

My parents were forced to cease all contact with me until I was healed.  I haven’t entered their home in years.  I wasn’t able to assist my father on his deathbed or hold my mother after his burial.

I was shunned in the marketplace, and after spending my father’s modest inheritance on failed treatments, the streets had become my home.

I longed for a warm embrace, making no physical contact in over a decade.  The loneliness was almost more than I could bear.

I stood penniless at the top of a large cliff on the day that I met you.  My soul was filled with sorrow and despair.  Where was the Holy One that I had heard about in my youth?  Were all of those stories told in the temple about a God who kept His promises true?  If so, where was He?  Why had He rejected me?  I could take this torture no longer.

I could hear the waves crashing below me as I stared down at the sharp rocks below, horrified by their presence yet anticipating their role in ending this life of misery.

That’s when the wind shifted, and a whisper called to me, “Run to Jesus.”

It disturbed me.  I tried to ignore it and focus on the grim task ahead.

But that small voice whispered again, “Run to Jesus.”

I backed up off the ledge as I processed those words.  I heard rumblings about the charismatic preacher in town who was rumored to be the Messiah.  We had all encountered our fair share of false prophets, but the stories about this one seemed different.

I took that first staggering step down the hill as my heart wrestled with this new idea of running toward a man unknown to me.  Do I turn back and end it all, or do I respond to that tiny ember of hope growing inside me? 

My foot took another step and then another.  The ember of hope was fanned a little, then a little more.

Soon, I was running down the slope with a fire burning in my belly. It wasn’t a question of if; it was a question of when I was going to find Jesus. He was my only hope.

As I reached the bottom of the hill, I became conscious of my surroundings. Up ahead was a level shoreline lined with boats and swarming with people.

They were awkwardly making their way towards the village. As the group moved forward, I caught the words “Jesus,” “Jarius,” “daughter,” “died,” and others. 

That’s when I first saw You.  My heart burned even warmer, and that flame pushed me on as I weaved through the confusion.  I knew with every fiber of my being You were the Christ.  I knew with complete confidence that You could and would heal my disease if it was Your will. I also knew that You could heal my inner woundedness.

I was so close to You, Jesus!  But I didn’t dare reach out and touch You.  I knew my place and didn’t want to make You unclean. I lifted my heart in prayer, threw myself to the ground, and reached out to touch a tassel on the bottom of Your garment.

I stayed on the ground as the crowd pressed on, in humble adoration of the miracle I felt course through me!

Who am I that I should receive a blessing directly from the Anointed One?

Then I heard Your voice call out, “Who touched me?”  I knew You were calling to me.  In that sea of people, filled with influential, wealthy, and important people like the ruler Jarius, You called to me.

While Your disciples reminded You of the crowd pressing around, I rose to my feet, and with every ounce of courage I had, I came forward.  I threw myself down before You, feeling unworthy and afraid.

I was surely healed, but calling me out was almost more than I could bear!  You spoke those words of promise over me and called me daughter. You, a miracle worker, a prophet, the Son of the Most High, looked at me and called me Your daughter! 

I have been made ritually clean for the first time in twelve years!  But more importantly, my soul has been healed.

You are the One Whom I have longed for.  You are the One whom I sought.  You are the Long Expected Savior.  The One Whom my people have prayed for.  You are here, and everything has changed.

With all my love and devotion,

Your Daughter

You are here, and everything has changed.

My dear reader, thank you for diving into Mark’s gospel with me and meeting the hemorrhaging woman in a new way.  This letter is, of course, a work of fiction.  I wasn’t there that day along the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, so this story was fabricated entirely in a way that moved me. 

Her story, however, is a story that we can all easily relate to.  How often have we felt rejected, defeated, lonely, humiliated, angry, afraid, and so many of the other big emotions that she likely felt?

What makes this woman so remarkable, and what makes her one of the most famous women in history, is her radical faith. Jesus responds to her with such kindness and love, proclaiming that promise over her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you.”

Let’s ask the hemorrhaging woman to teach us how to have heroic faith against all odds.  Jesus, I trust in You.

 

Until next time, your sister in Christ,

 

Leah

*To read the story of the hemorrhaging woman, open your bible to the Gospel of Mark 5:21-43.