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.

A man, blind from birth.
A woman, lame for years.
A child, sick with a fever that the parents knew would take his life.

The towns in Jesus time were filled with people like this. The lame, the blind, the sick. It’s safe to say that there was a lot of hopelessness, wondering if there will ever be relief from this oppression. Wondering if there is a cure, a way to find healing and hope.

The gospels are filled with stories of people facing brokenness in their lives. There are many instances of brokenness due to sin or lifestyle choices, but the brokenness that stands out in these stories is the physical brokenness that many were facing. Some of them had lived their entire lives stricken with physical illness, while some had contracted diseases that had no cure. Many were hopeless...beggars sitting at the edges of pools, marketplaces and wealthy homes, hoping that today would be the day that brings a reprieve from their symptoms and pains.

And then along comes Jesus. Walking from town to town, bringing with him a strange group of people, filled with parables and preaching. Most likely, his reputation preceded him and as the townspeople heard he was coming, they waited for him to walk into their towns. Were the rumors really true? Did he really say such strange things? Did he really talk back to Pharisees and Sadducees and religious leaders? Did he really do all those things he said he did? What is this Jesus guy really all about? And, really, when it all comes down to it- is there anything in his message for me? What can he provide me with?

it’s not just about us and the solutions we crave. Instead, it’s about gOD and using our testimony to bring glory to Him.

So, from town to town Jesus and his strange band of men stroll. Jesus brings messages that the people haven’t heard before, he stands up to the religious leaders and often makes spectacles of them. He reprimands the rich young man and tax collectors. I imagine most of the “commoners” standing in the crowd, enjoying the scene. At the same time, the words coming from Jesus’ mouth probably made many uncomfortable. How could it be possible to choose to stay married when divorce was an option? How could one worker be paid the same amount as another worker who did half the work? And really, Jesus, those words are so nice and entertaining, but- what is in it for me?

Throughout the gospels, there is a division of people after Jesus has finished preaching and teaching. There are those who scoff and walk away, there are those who listen and believe, and there are those who listen, believe and obey. Each group seems to answer “What is in it for me?” in a different way. The first group decides that there is nothing in it for them- and walks away. The second group decides that it could be rather beneficial for them to follow this man with the strange words of wisdom. And the third group? They also decide that there is nothing in it for them- that instead of it being about them, it is all about HIM.

Let’s take a closer look at Luke 17:11-19. As Jesus entered a village, ten men with leprosy approached him (vs. 12). They raised their voices, asking Jesus to bring healing to them (vs. 13). They knew who Jesus was and they knew that his reputation- he brought healing to those who were stricken with sickness and disease. They knew that there was a chance that just asking could bring relief from years of pain and living like social outcasts. Jesus’ response to them was simple- “Go and show yourselves to the priests” (vs. 14). All ten men heard what Jesus said and decided that it would be beneficial for them to go and do what Jesus said. All ten men were healed on their way to see the priests! But only one man fully understood the weight of what had happened. Only one of the ten understood that it wasn’t all about him or what was in it for him. He understood that it was about Jesus and giving glory to God (vs. 15-16). He fell face down before Jesus and thanked him, giving glory to God.

Let us also remember this lesson: that when we ask God, we can expect him to bring healing and answers to our problems. But it’s not just about us and the solutions we crave. Instead, it’s about HIM and using our testimony to bring glory to Him. How can we do that today?

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Suzanne Hines wants to live in a world where sunflowers bloom in eternal summer, where her children play instead of argue and where her family has an endless budget for travel. When she's not loving her husband, training and teaching her three children, and spreading education on the foster care system, you can find her writing, reading or running outside!

Her favorite Scripture is Romans 12:12 "...be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer..." (NIV)

Today's team journal is written by the DWITW blog and podcast coordinator, Jillian Vincent.

“He said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

— John 19:30b

We can’t be trusted with fragile things.

I’ve been cleaning up broken glass for three days straight. The first casualty was my coffee pot, may it rest in peace. I let my two-year-old do the dishes, which was my first mistake. (Because he asked and was I really going to say no to that?) Alas, it did not end well. I think there is still some coffee pot lingering in my garbage disposal. Yesterday, I was rushing and dropped my bowl, splashing yogurt granola parfait all over my living room. Today, I dropped a mason jar while emptying the dishwasher, spraying shards all over my counter, in my tupperware and silverware drawers, and onto the floor. Each time, I’ve been shocked at my own helpless clumsiness, and the sudden fragility of my every day life. The dangerous disruptions have me snatching up my toddler, donning tennis shoes and hand-vacuuming the corners and crevices for minuscule, invisible leftovers.

Recently, I’ve been studying the book of Isaiah. Isaiah’s audience, God's wayward people, are hopelessly dropping the glass ball. Isaiah calls out their habitual sins and describes the just judgment coming for those who follow that path. They, like me, can’t help but drop the precious gifts God gives them. Their hands can not be trusted.

Yet, over and over again in Isaiah, God speaks of a solid, unbreakable hope. There would be a Messiah. He would be broken for us, breaking sin and death forever.

“He will destroy death forever. The Lord God will wipe away the tears from every face and remove His people’s disgrace from the whole earth, for the Lord has spoken. ”

— Isaiah 25:8

Leading up to Easter, I’ve been pondering three words: “It is finished.”

With shaky hands, I try to death-grip my relationships, my roles and even the state of this fallen world. Everything seems so fragile! I’m frightened of my capability to shatter all that God has given me, as if a “Whoopsie Daisy” could fracture God’s plans.

If you asked me if I trust that God has the victory, I would say a resounding, “YES!” But my life doesn’t practically speak of a victory won.

It is not an “It is finished” kind of life.

You know how I know? I’m treating the roles and tasks and relationships God has given me as if they are parfait bowls, coffee pots, and mason jars. Like some comedic act, I’m flailing dishes in the air. I catch a dish and immediately throw it back up again because another is in clear gravitational jeopardy. I don’t have enough hands to carry my own stuff, let alone to carry my children, my husband or this ministry. And lately it seems God is giving me more to juggle. I'm living as if it all still depends on me, after all this time of knowing this good news: it doesn't. My to-do list reflects my desire to be an "Energizer Bunny" for the kingdom, and often my heart slips into anxious hustle. It is no secret that the Savior of the world is not me, and it certainly is not one of The Three Stooges.

In all the juggling, it doesn’t occur to me that I can set it all down. I’m afraid to let go, because what if everything breaks?

I forget. Everything was already broken, so He broke himself! We no longer bear the responsibility and the impossibility of keeping everything whole or cleaning up the mess when everything shatters. He is unclenching my hands from all the dishes and the brooms. I am learning, like Mary, to sit at Jesus' feet. I am learning, like Peter walking on the water, to keep my eyes on Jesus. God himself is whispering the gospel to me. He is gently lifting my chin so I might look at the cross and gaze upon Jesus Christ himself.

Sisters, can you grasp it as I’m beginning to?

God’s Kingdom is not a coffee pot, Amen? It doesn't need bubble wrap! There is nothing precarious about what God has done for us. 

It. Is. Finished.

Over. Complete. Doneso.

“I have said these things to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

— John 16:33

What if I took Him at His Word? What if I trusted God that it was done already?

I would live in peace. I would not take the burden of guilt back on myself that He paid for in full.  I would repent and move on. I would rejoice, awe-filled, because (in the words of my toddler) my sin and this world's can be “all gone.” I would live in expectancy for how God will complete what He has started. I would worship Him for every victory I see displayed on earth now and not fret for the times the victory is hidden and the battle feels far from over. I would not take my eyes from the Savior, who, in becoming broken, made the victory unbreakable.

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts you.”

— Isaiah 26:3

It is finished.

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. It’s an exclamation! It’s a victory cry!

Praise the Lord! The victory does not lay in my clumsy hands, but in his nail-pierced ones.

And because He loves me, He is using my shaky hands. But it ultimately does not depend on me. So I can lift my hands to worship Him! It is finished!

Lord, thank you for finishing it! My hands and heart can’t even grasp the mystery of it, the freedom of it. I confess I’ve been grasping on to my own feeble attempts to do the work that has already been done perfectly by you! I’m sorry when I don’t trust you, your unbelievable work on the cross, and your death-defying declaration. I’m craving an “It is finished” attitude, an “It is finished” kind of day, and an “It is finished” kind of life. And I trust you are already doing it, and in fact, that it has already been done. Amen

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Jillian is a lover and follower of Jesus. She's a wife, mother of two boys and a Dayton enthusiast. Jillian currently is a stay at home mama and spends nap times writing and discipling other women. She would (almost) die for an avocado, a cup of coffee made by her husband, a novel that makes her cry, and a bouquet of sunflowers.