Take Heart, Daughter

Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, Luke 8:43-48. I must have read them a thousand times. They had a special place in my heart.

But I’ve grown just about as weary of them as I have of my suffering. I bet my kindred sister was weary too.

The story is in the Bible three times, seeming to underscore its importance. God leads me back there again. Why? I don’t want to read it anymore. Why am I here again, Lord?

“She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors.”✔️
She “had spent all she had.”✔️
“Instead of getting better she grew worse.”✔️
“No one could heal her.”✔️

The familiarity breaks me open again.

“She felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.”

✔️?? No, I can’t check that one. I’m tired to my core. I remember that she must have been unbearably tired. Maybe you are too.

She could physically touch Jesus. Is that the difference? I ache to touch Him. I can’t. And yet, I can.

It hasn’t been twelve years yet. Is that the magic number? I know better than to compare like this. But is there some piece of the puzzle I’m still missing?

Puzzle? Jesus doesn’t play games. It’s my brain that tries to solve a riddle that doesn’t exist.

It’s my heart that follows Jesus through the crowd once again, pouring out the disappointment, shame, exhaustion, suffering. Again.

Just the edge, Jesus. That’s all I need. Just a thread. You don’t even have to turn around. Won’t You heal me?

Oh, but He WANTS to turn around. He focuses more on the encounter than the health. “Take heart,” He says instead of, “Take the edge of my garment.”

So, I ask again for more of His heart. That, He freely gives. Have you asked Him lately, for more of His heart?

He could have let our healed sister go unnoticed. Instead, she heard the precious word, “Daughter”, from the lips of her Savior.

“Daughter,” He calls me. I am His. “Child,” He calls You. Are you listening?

Yes, He healed physically, but restoration and freedom were His emphases. An encounter with Jesus Himself traded for twelve years of suffering.

I’m pretty sure she would say He was worth the wait.

Whatever healing comes, I know I get the best kind: an encounter with Jesus. It’s worth the wait.

I’m ready to touch Your garment whenever You are, Jesus. Until then, I fall trembling at Your feet, grateful to touch Your heart.

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Author: Karina Baker

Hello, my dear friends! Glad to see you here. Thank you for reading about my beautiful rubble - my struggles with life, faith, and autoimmunity. Feel free to share your stories in the comments. My love and prayers to all of you!

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