And a great crowd followed Him and thronged about Him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard reports about Jesus and came up behind Him in the crowd and touched His garment. For she said, “if I touch even His garments, I will be made well.” And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in Himself that power had gone out of Him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” . . . But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. And He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” – Mark 5: 24-34

There are parts of me that can sympathize with the bleeding woman. When you’re a 30-something trying to responsibly treat chronic anxiety, finding a doctor who really listens can be difficult and tiring. And while I was never physically worse in the midst of my search for it, I felt emotionally worn every time a name brand med, with a long list of side effects, was suggested. I just want to feel better, I would cry out to Jesus. I’ll be frank – I still cry this out – even after finding an amazing doctor who listened to my concerns, there are still days I want stronger medicine or a supernatural cure. 

We live in a broken world, which means physical, emotional, and mental ailments are a reality we weren’t ever supposed to know, but which we inevitably endure. I imagine myself as the woman who bled for years, frantic in her search to get just one look at He who was miraculously healing. I imagine the sweat on her upper lip, moving through a crowd of people who felt their need was stronger, more immediate, than the hundreds surrounding them.

Although I sympathize with her, I also feel great divides of difference. In the height of mental illness, I’m not sure a small grasp of a garment would’ve been enough for me . . . I imagine the desire I would have, had I had physical access to Jesus like she did. I would yell through the crowds, making my voice louder than those around me – “Jesus! Jesus, I need your help! I need you to fix me.” And if I would’ve gotten time with Him face-to-face, after He would whisper to me, “you are healed,” I would chase after Him, again.

“But wait, like really? I mean – I know you’re Jesus, but is this a lifetime guarantee situation? Like how certain are You this anxiety goblin is gone for good?” 

The nameless woman in Mark, however, rests confidently in who Jesus is and of what He is capable. I just need to touch the fabric covering His body. She wasn’t drawing attention to herself, she wasn’t making her voice louder than those surrounding her, she wasn’t jumping up and down – she moved quickly and quietly to get to Him. What would the world look like if we all operated like this? Instead of drawing attention to ourselves and our personal ailments, what if we simply took them to the feet of Jesus? 

Our Jesus felt power leave His body. As the nameless woman feels herself healing, Jesus knows something has occurred.

She reached for His garment and immediately felt relief. No questions, no conversation, no wondering if this would actually hold out for the rest of her days. And let’s be honest, this whole occurrence is miraculous, but what happens next is actually my favorite . . .

Our Jesus felt power leave His body. As the nameless woman feels herself healing, Jesus knows something has occurred. He could’ve kept walking – I’m sure He was being touched and grabbed at in every direction, but He stopped. He looked at His guys and said, “Who touched me?”

This is who Jesus is, sisters. He feels our need for Him, even as the needs of hundreds of others surround Him.

She comes forward then, frightened at being found out, possibly feeling guilty for not greeting Him formally before seeking restoration. And then He utters words we all long for. Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed from your disease. (v34)

Ya’ll, we do not need fancy jobs or expensive cars to be known by Jesus. We do not need to set out a red carpet or parade for Him to heal and restore. It doesn’t matter to Him if we are overweight, underweight, or never manage to brush our hair before leaving the house. He will take us single, divorced, confused, and broken – because He does not care about labels. To the world, she will only ever be known as the Bleeding Woman – nameless to anyone who reads the Gospels.

But to Jesus? She is His child.

And her circumstances may be unlike than yours today, but our stories aren’t all that different – she was a human, with ailments, in need of recovery. She felt unseen, unknown, and desperate for relief. So, she sought the One who rights all wrongs, trusted that when He said, “you are not hidden,” He certainly meant it, and reached for Him in her time of need. 

He knows you, right this moment, and what you need, just like He knew her, right that moment, and what she needed. And He will provide.

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Steph Duff wants to live in a world where every human, whether small or regular-sized, learns to use their voice and is seen and known. When she's not traveling and story telling with Back2Back Ministries, you'll likely find her drinking excessive cups of coffee, with her nose in a book, or daydreaming about India. Her favorite scripture is Habakkuk 1:5, and she prays for a world in which Jesus is the name on every lip. Learn a little more about her love for semi-colons, what stirs her blood, and the yearnings of her heart over at www.stephaniduff.wordpress.com.

Today’s team journal was written by our Administrative Director, Kate Haas. 

I did not know, until recently, that comparison didn’t solely steal the joy of those around me.

For many years, I was looking for someone to see me outside of my circumstances. I began to believe that, though I desired to be unique, different, and one of a kind, it just wasn’t something I could achieve while also being known. The only option I saw was conforming to the measures I thought were being used against me, the one which would allow me to connect with others the way I wanted to.  I wanted to be deeply known and understood, while also being a little different. Maybe a lot different, but I like to skip, and sing silly songs, and make friends, and not share my food, and I think that’s generally okay.

I am unique because my Father is one-of-a-kind.

I could tell you fairly easily that I did not want to be compared to others. I didn’t want to match anyone, because then I would be even more like someone else. I wanted to be known for my best (self-diagnosed) traits, and I didn’t want anyone else to have these traits. If I was being compared to another by those traits, I had to win out, I had to be the best person people knew with that trait. If you’ve read that sentence, I know how it sounds. I would never admit that to anyone out loud, which is why I’ve written it down here, for honesty sake.

The worst part for me?  I knew that I could be known by God, so completely and fully that I wouldn’t need to worry about matching, or having similar qualities to anyone else. Could I trust this completely? No. That would send me out of control. I’ve also learned that I don’t like that much either. Maybe He wouldn’t really be able to know me? Maybe I’m too different? Sister, let me tell you that I am dead wrong. I am unique because my Father is one-of-a-kind.

How do I know that? Moses reminded the people of God as they entered the Promised  Land, and somebody wrote it down. Deuteronomy is a speech delivered by Moses before those with the ability would enter the Promised Land. He speaks on the law that was given to them for their sake, and they would perform it so that they could remain in the Land. He starts by reminding the people where they have been, and who their God is. Take a look: 

Did any people ever hear the voice of a god speaking out of the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and still live? Or has any god ever attempted to go and take a nation for himself from the midst of another nation, by trials, by signs, by wonders, and by war, by a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, and by great deeds of terror, all of which the Lord your God did for you in Egypt before your eyes? To you it was shown, that you might know that the Lord is God; there is no other beside him.  (Deut. 4:33-35)

Did you hear that sister? There is none besides Him! There are no others like Him, and I was made in His image. And so were you! I was meant to be different, and I was designed to be fully loved and fully known by this God.  It was completely undeserved, but He offered me forgiveness, He gave me the record of His son, Jesus. Then He did more! He took me into His family to be counted as an heir.  Have you heard of a God like this, sister?  What an extraordinary God.

I have experienced comparison as the thief of my joy for far too long. I have hidden behind walls when I could have been hidden beneath the wings of the Lord. I will hide no longer, knowing God loved me first and designed me to skip, and sing silly songs, and make friends, and share my food a little more often (but I’m still working on that one! Give me time). 

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Kate Haas wants to live in a world with free coffee, hugs, and deep conversations. When she isn’t in class, you can find her she’s at home with her husband and four-legged toddler reading a book or watching a detective show. Her favorite scripture is 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. [Amen? Amen!]

 A baby comes into the world looking for someone to look for them. – Curt Thompson

I wonder if we ever outgrow this? Curt Thompson uses the noun “baby,” but I have to believe we could substitute any variety of other nouns, and it would be true: A vulnerable adolescent. An angst-ridden teen. A widowed man. A woman with a reputation. Even in the hardest of seasons, I believe one is always looking for someone to look for them.

In John chapter 4, we meet a woman of Samaria with a reputation that could widen many eyes. Five times she’s been married, and her current beau isn’t even her betrothed. I can imagine the people of Sychar whispering behind their hands as this woman walked past them to the well. I imagine her walking with her eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to address the truths and fallacies of what her townspeople were saying. And yet, I feel convinced she was hoping to find someone looking for her; I don’t think a woman uninterested in being sought would go to the trouble of marrying five times and then sharing a bed with a man who wasn’t hers in the first place. She was in the pursuit of looking for someone looking for her.

Each day we rise with the knowledge of our own stories. Whether self-awareness is in play or not, we know what our histories hold. Each day, this woman of Samaria faced the people who lived alongside her in Sychar, knowing the beds she’d shared, the loves she’d buried, the hope she still held - despite it all. We know all those intricacies about ourselves, but it isn’t often many others have full disclosure on our personal privacies. Either because it’s none of their business, or we are simply private people, or perhaps others don’t know because they are just too heavy or they feel too undignified to offer up to another. So, we stifle, keep to ourselves, remain tight-lipped, but we are ever looking.

He just doesn’t care what other people think. He’s not concerned about labels, He doesn’t follow normative, societal patterns. He just wants to bring folks to His Dad and love the stuffing out of them.

Imagine with me what that day must have felt like for the woman of Samaria . . . it’s just another day. She needs water, so she goes to the source. Not expecting anything abnormal, she’s perhaps thinking about whatever she did the night before, the last conversation she shared, maybe pondering the situation she’s currently in with a married man. She arrives at the well and finds a Jewish man, sealing the deal that she will not be speaking, free to remain in her thoughts.

But Jesus has another plan.

“Give me a drink,” He says. I imagine she whirled around, stunned by the audacity and boldness of this stranger to speak to her, a woman of Samaria. And in this moment, everything changes.

Now I think we could dive into a variety of reasons why this passage holds importance. The one I always hone in on, however, and the one I wrote in my sloppy handwriting in the margins between the text, is simple: He speaks to her.

This is unique for a couple reasons – He’s a Jew and she a citizen of Samaria – these were not folks who mingled at the annual block party.  He’s a man and she’s a woman - and unless you were married, men and women just didn’t talk shop at the local watering hole. Jesus is scandalous, ya’ll.

And I don’t want us to overlook these things. In fact, these things add up to one of the biggest reasons I’m so crazy about Jesus – He just doesn’t care what other people think. He’s not concerned about labels, He doesn’t follow normative, societal patterns. He just wants to bring folks to His Dad and love the stuffing out of them. It’s a big deal.

But let’s go back to that first quote in the beginning; a baby comes into the world looking for someone to look for them. Now substitute some words to describe our gal at the well, in for “baby.”

A woman with a reputation is in the world looking for someone to look for her.

A woman with questionable relationship patterns is in the world looking for someone to look for her.

A woman yearning for relationship is in the world looking for someone to look for her.

A traumatized woman is in the world looking for someone to look for her.

Sound familiar? This woman then, doesn’t seem so different than us. How often, when we are seeking something or someone, do we look up? (Or in her case, right in front of us?)

I imagine the woman of Samaria and I probably would’ve been fast friends. I’ve never been married, and I don’t share beds with men who belong to another woman, but I’ve had some missteps in my narrative. And even knowing everything I know about my own story, I still look to be looked for.

And I know Jesus is still waiting at the proverbial well. He will always ask the questions, though He’s got the answers. He will always seek us out, though He’s aware of our coordinates. He speaks to us - no matter where we’ve been, where we’re thinking about going, no matter what.

He is waiting, sisters, with our full history in hand, to ensure that, whether we even know to look for Him in the first place, He never stops looking for us.

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Steph Duff wants to live in a world where every human, whether small or regular-sized, learns to use their voice and is seen and known. When she's not traveling and story telling with Back2Back Ministries, you'll likely find her drinking excessive cups of coffee, with her nose in a book, or daydreaming about India. Her favorite scripture is Habakkuk 1:5, and she prays for a world in which Jesus is the name on every lip. Learn a little more about her love for semi-colons, what stirs her blood, and the yearnings of her heart over at www.stephaniduff.wordpress.com.