SCRIPTURE READING:
“And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”
“You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”
But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”” Mark 5:25-34
Twelve years. That’s how long she had suffered. Doctors couldn’t heal her.
She didn’t need a sermon or a spotlight, just faith. Just one touch.
As Jesus walked through the crowd, she caught up to him from behind and reached out. It was undignified but what did she have to lose? She believed if she could touch the hem of His robe, she would be healed.
And she was.
Jesus stopped. “Who touched me?” It wasn’t rebuke — it was recognition. He wanted her to know: her healing wasn’t stolen; it was given. She came trembling, but left affirmed. “Daughter,” He said, “your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”
This was her defining moment. Quiet, unnoticed by most — but it changed everything. It wasn’t the crowd that healed her. It was her courage to reach for Christ in the middle of it.
Your defining moment may not be public. It might come in private pain, whispered prayer, or a trembling act of faith.
Jesus sees it all. And He still stops.Something to prayerfully think about: What would it look like for me to reach out to Jesus today — in faith, even if I feel unworthy or unseen?
