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Writer's pictureJamie Klusacek

A Story to Take Note Of

A paraphrase of Luke 8.


The dripping heat of the day was only intensified by the multitude of people mulling around Jesus. It seemed everyone wanted a glimpse of this Man. A Man who emanated hope and life. Whose words actually held weighted power—or so she had heard. If any person could heal her, it was Him.


She squeezed in closer, carefully covering her face lest anyone recognize who she truly was. And there it was again—that ugly, gnawing pain she was so familiar with. Her constant companion the past twelve years. It was the ailment that not only stole her life, but robbed her of all hopes of giving life to another. Did anyone fully realize the shameful ramifications of such a disease? Not only had it attacked her physical body, but her inner sense of love, worth,

and value.


A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. She paused for a moment, bracing herself on the stone wall to her right, clutching her abdomen in dull pain. The pain would pass; it always did. And if it didn’t, she would still move on, for this was her moment. Taking a deep breath, she tenderly released the wall and rose to her tiptoes. There He was! She could see Him not far from her.


Though the sea of men surrounding Him seemed insurmountable, He was but twenty paces from where she now stood. A ferocity tore through her soul. She would not let Him leave until she spoke with Him. No, not even that was needed. She only needed a touch. One touch of

His garment as He passed by and that would be enough.


She pushed her way through the crowd to no avail. Not even an inch of ground was gifted to her, no matter how forcefully she tried moving forward. The only path she saw was away from Jesus, but that was not the direction she was headed—not today, not now. If she called out His name loudly, perhaps He would hear, but then she would be recognized, reprimanded, and cast aside by the villagers.


To them she was a nobody, identified as the unclean one. No, she couldn’t risk it. And just like that, a thought came to mind. A blessed miracle of a thought. If she could not get through the crowd, she would crawl beneath the crowd. She would risk the probable chance of being trampled to the death by the mob, but the risk was worth it. ‘I’d rather risk my life being trampled by men than live one more day a hopeless outcast, plagued by infirmity,’ she whispered to herself.


As she tightened her veil, she snuck one last look at Jesus. Though she only saw Him from behind, she imagined His eyes beckoning her to come. Slowly, she crouched down on her hands and knees and began crawling in His direction.


She had to move more quickly than the crowd so she would not lose Him. The stones beneath her felt jagged on her bare skin. The dirt kicked up by the mob’s methodical movement made her eyes water. A small price to pay for the healing she hoped to receive, if only she could reach Jesus.


She held her gown closely to her side, allowing more movement as she inched her way onward. Praying in simple supplications that she was still heading in the right direction. As she got closer the crowd only seemed to intensify.


A sharp pain radiated up her leg, taking her breath away. A bone-cracking sound came from her hand and a desperate cry escaped from her lips. Warm blood trickled to her fingertips. She was being trampled on, literally.


Her breath grew short and the tears began to fall as she wondered if this would be her last

moment on earth. Head spinning, she blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus. Then, there, not

more than a few paces away, she saw Him. She pushed with all her might.


Clawing desperately to gain the ground that separated her from Him. Reaching through the last few men, she touched the hem of His garment. Her body stilled. Jesus stopped.


She was healed.


Talk about intensity. This is courageous connectedness.


Courageous connectedness means you’re willing to push past what others may say or think about you in order to reach the One who is the only answer to your deepest need.


Whether it’s healing, a perspective shift, an intimate relationship, wisdom, strength, or courage—Jesus is the answer. Jesus is the remedy. Jesus is the antidote.


When you courageously connect with Him, you’ll find that not only did you need Him, but you

don’t want to spend one second of your life without Him. Perhaps one of the reasons this woman in Luke 8 tried to go unnoticed was because she didn’t know the character of Christ.


After she touched Him, Jesus recognized that power had flowed out of Him and He asked the

simple question, “Who touched me?” Trembling like a leaf in a tempestuous wind storm, she emerged from her hiding place and fell at the feet of Jesus. She divulged her entire story to Him and the crowd surrounding her. His response to her was legendary. “‘Daughter,’ he said to her, ‘your faith has made you well. Go in peace.’”


Now, if you read a few verses earlier in this passage, you would know that this woman received her healing while Jesus was en route to perform another miracle. Jairus, who was a leader in the synagogue, had approached Jesus only moments before. He had one child, a 12-year-old daughter, who was deathly ill.


Jairus came pleading with Jesus, humbling himself at Jesus’ feet in hopes to convince Him to heal his one and only precious child. I can imagine the passionate love others witnessed in his fervent pleading.


The desperation of Jairus as his child’s life hung in the balance was palpable. It was in the midst of that desperate moment that the woman with the issue of blood was healed. Her twelve-year sickness ended during Jesus’ journey to heal a twelve-year-old girl.


It was in that heated sense of urgency that Jesus paused and spoke to her, calling her “daughter.”


It was no coincidence that He called her daughter. In fact, the exact Greek word for daughter that Jairus used to refer to his child was the same word that Jesus used to reference that woman.


It was as if Jesus was saying to her, “Do you see how passionate this man is about his one and only child? Today, I am calling you my daughter and I feel the same about you.”


In response to her connecting to Him, the first words Jesus spoke to her were in regards to her identity. She is loved. She belongs. Daughter. In one word, He negated the labels that were placed on her for years and replaced them with the truth of who she was. She. Was. His.


It was only after speaking to her identity that He confirmed her healing.


This is what Jesus does. Connectedness to Him is allowing Him to peer into our souls to see past what we think we need, to give us what we truly need.


Connectedness takes effort, as with any relationship. Connectedness takes abandonment. It starts by letting go of your image and being honest and real before God. It continues with full submission. A willingness to let go of your life in order to embrace the One who is preciously irreplaceable.


It’s raw. It’s real. It’s open. It’s honest.


It’s accepting your imperfections and allowing Him to change you. Courageous connectedness is willingly releasing your way of thinking and replacing it with His.


It’s walking with Him. It’s talking with Him. It’s an active response of voluntarily staying by His side even though the world may stand against you. Is this the kind of connectedness you have to God?


"Connectedness to God silences every fear and proclaims to every problem how big your God truly is."

Photo Credit: Kat Jayne from pexels.com

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