Twelve years.

That’s how long she had been bleeding. Long enough that disappointment had become familiar. Physicians diagnosed. Remedies failed. Nothing improved.

Under the law, her condition made her unclean, separated from society. She learned how to move carefully through public spaces, how to avoid contact. She kept her life small so she wouldn’t be a burden.

She exhausted every resource searching for a cure. Still the shame remained.

Then Jesus passed by.

He wasn’t slowing down. He wasn’t searching the crowd. He looked like He was being led somewhere by an anxious man on a mission—hardly in a position to pause for someone like her.

As she watched the people press in on Him from every side, a realization struck her.

This was her only chance.

“If I touch even the hem of His garment, I will be made well.”

No more waiting to be noticed.
No request. No negotiation.

She stayed quiet, making herself as small as possible.

Pushing through the bustling crowd, she reached out with a trembling hand, brushed the edge of His robe, then quickly retreated.

The bleeding stopped before she could make sense of it. Strength returned where weakness had lived for years. The change was immediate.

Just when she thought she had gone unnoticed…

Jesus stopped.

He turned and scanned the crowd.
“Who touched me?” He asked.

Her heart raced as she stepped forward.

Jesus looked at her with kind eyes and spoke gently:

“Daughter,” He said, “your faith has made you well.  God in peace”

The Habit of Waiting

There’s a quiet assumption many of us carry into moments like this.

Healing is something you wait for.

And the reasoning is simple:

You don’t want to assume.
You don’t want to overstep.
You don’t want to do the wrong thing in God’s name.

So you watch Jesus pass by.

You tell yourself He’s busy. That He’ll stop if He wants to. That if healing is meant to happen, it will happen without you risking anything.

Waiting for healing feels responsible.
Spiritually mature.

The unspoken lie underneath it all is simple:

Healing is something God decides in the moment.

This assumption feels harmless.

But it keeps your hands pinned at your sides,
when they were meant to move.

Recognizing the Healer

The woman didn’t reason her way into healing.
She recognized Jesus.

Long before this moment—long before the cross—God already revealed who He was. When Yahweh named Himself Jehovah Rapha, He wasn’t describing something He occasionally did. He was revealing something true about His nature.

Healing was never foreign to Him.
It wasn’t a new idea or special exception.
It was part of how He made Himself known to His people.

When Jesus walked past the woman, the question wasn’t whether healing was possible.
The question was whether He was who He claimed to be.

She believed He was the Christ scripture spoke of:

• A Messiah who would bear sickness.

• Immanuel with healing in His wings.

• The unchanging God who forgives sin and heals disease.

Touching the hem of His garment was not testing a theory,
It was recognition—of Jesus as the God of healing Himself.

A Prayer of Recognition

Until next time,
Addison

How To Command Healing