The Woman Who Touched Jesus's Garment

Created by: GOD

And written by the Holy Spirit through His vessel:

Liz Davis

****

For twelve years now, the bleeding had not stopped, continuing to flow in a way that left her hopeless. She had been to every doctor there was, and spent everything she had on countless healers. But not one could do a thing at all to make it cease. Due to her continual bleeding, she was seen as a niddah – menstruating woman, and was therefore considered unclean. An issue of blood, was what they called it, but the roots of which made her bleed, was completely mysterious.

“Is there nothing you can do to make it stop?” She asked in desperation, with eyes which were wet with tears.

A shake of the head was the typical reply, and she would leave in great sadness, back onto the streets where merchants hawked their wares. Everyone knew of her condition, and she was therefore shunned by every person in the settlement. All she needed was for the blood to cease seven days, in order to be regarded as clean for some time.

But it never let up for even twenty-four hours, so she lived in a state of perpetual uncleanness. A social pariah in the settlement where she resided, her eyes were always lowered to avoid the stares. The veil around her head was used to shield her face, but the whispers which came from those around her still reached her ears.

Cloaked in shame she always walked briskly, as even the religious men of her community gave looks of distaste at her mere presence. Nobody wanted to walk near her, and even the craftsmen who sold goods she needed, such as spices and bread, refused to touch her hand for the exchange of money. Her coins were always placed on the table where they sat, so no contact was made with this bleeding woman.

Both socially and religiously isolated, she spent much of her time alone, always returning to the two-room stone dwelling which she had shared with her parents since birth. Having bled since the age of sixteen, she was now twenty-eight, and therefore seen as unfit marriage material to most of the men. This made her even more of an outcast, and no other women in the village were friendly towards her. More than embarrassed, she lived in a state of total anguish, as there was nobody beside her parents, who would look at and speak with her.

It was during one day in the afternoon, when she heard much talk in the village, and perking her ears to what was said, listened in.

“There is a man who performs miracles,” spoke a maidservant, who said these words to two other women. “He is to be at the river in just a few minutes time, as the boat he’s travelled on, is now approaching the shore.”

“Is this not the same one, who cured the demon-possessed man that lived in the burial caves?” The female servant who spoke, questioned intently.

“It is,” she excitedly affirmed. “And now he will be here, for us to all see him in the flesh.”

Excitedly chatting the women started to walk, and noticing others were, too, the lady who could not stop bleeding followed behind. Soon a small group had joined them, as word of this man who performed miracles, made others want to follow and meet him as well.

Once at shore’s edge they saw a figure who stepped out of a boat, and now larger in size, the crowd thronged around him in much excitement. Wanting badly to see him, the woman who could not stop bleeding stood up on the tips of her toes, but it was difficult to get a clear view.

His face and upper half was visible, however, and that was more than enough for her to see what she needed. A light emitted from his very being, one that drew her closer to him in a way she just couldn’t explain. More than eager, she was now desperate to get closer, and struggled among those who had gathered to be near. Then suddenly she noticed someone, a synagogue leader named Jairus, and he quickly fell to his feet in front of Jesus.

“Please,” he called out, a great humbleness filling his voice as he spoke. “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her, so she will be healed and live.”

Eyes soft and filled with compassion, this man who performed miracles immediately went with Jairus. The crowd followed close behind, and still doing her best to push her way to the front, the woman who couldn’t stop bleeding, followed too.

His name was spoken by many as they all walked…Yeshua, Yeshua, was the word everyone kept saying, and the woman who had an issue of bleeding, softly spoke it just beneath her breath, too. The name made her feel good, protected, and she felt a power in it that only affirmed this man was truly the Messiah. He was God, she felt it deep in her heart, and right then and there she decided she would do anything at all to touch him.

If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed, she suddenly thought, in moments she was at the very front, and coming right up behind him, fell to her knees and reached out to touch his cloak.

Her palm found purchase with the fabric of his prayer garment, grasping hold of his Tzitzit, which dangled from the hem. As she touched the edge of his cloak, a warmth spread throughout her, and her bleeding immediately dried up. Taking in a gasp, she felt a powerful healing, zipping through her body like a beam of light.

Eyes wide and glowing, she felt ultra-awake, both rejuvenated and elated by the mere touch of her hand to his fabric. She’d already known it would work, as her faith was deeply rooted, but the actual moment of being healed, was unlike any other feeling she’d ever had in this world. Halting immediately, Yeshua took pause, as he’d felt the power go out of him. He then turned in the crowd, and called out these words to all in attendance.

“Who touched my clothes?”

Searching the crowd with curious eyes he waited, but then one of his disciples suddenly spoke.

“You see the people crowding against you, and yet you ask, who touched me?”

But Jesus’s eyes never left the crowd, wanting to see who had given the touch, which had made power go out from him. Shocked he had immediately known, the woman who had touched, trembled at his feet. Then opening her mouth, she confessed it was she who had done it.

“It is I who touched you,” she said, chin dipping down as a bright flush spread across her face.

Gazing down at her with a warmth and love that surpassed comprehension, Yeshua gave a reply that immediately soothed her.

“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

Liz Davis - 2021