Experiencing God's Presence #226
Experiencing God's Presence #226
She had heard about Jesus, so she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his robe.
Mark 5:27
The woman who had been bleeding for twelve years risked a lot to touch Jesus. She was considered unclean—not necessarily sinful, but ritually impure enough to be excluded from Temple worship and prohibited from touching priests. There was a stigma associated with her condition and an understanding that she would keep herself at an appropriate distance. Still, she pushed through a crowd to touch the garment of a holy man of messianic stature. And when He noticed—and publicly questioned her—she owned up to what she did.
Some people try to keep their decorum around God. Others behave appropriately. That is to say, some people inappropriately put on airs or remain dignified in His Presence, while a heart that is truly captivated by Him will forget all propriety and risk everything to pursue Him. Whenever that happened—with a synagogue leader whose child was dying, with a Roman centurion, with a Gentile woman whose daughter was demon-possessed, and with this hemorrhaging woman in Mark 5—Jesus responded with great affirmation. He applauded their faith. He commended their ability to breach protocol in order to access the divine answer to their true needs. Jesus seemed to honor boldness.
When we recognize how unworthy we are to approach Jesus, how utterly holy and awesome His glory is, and are desperate enough to reach out and grab Him anyway, we are honoring Him. We are recognizing the heart that designed us for Himself and saying yes to it. We are taking God at His Word.
What do you need from Him? Pursue it boldly. Chase Him recklessly. Forget decorum and cry out to God. He is pleased with such abandon and responds to it. He calls it great faith.
Jesus, I have needs, and only You can meet them. Some people might be appalled at my boldness, but I’m shamelessly asking You to give me what I need. I know Your generous heart, and I’m risking everything on it.
