12 Years and Israel

Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. -I Peter 5:7

This morning, I woke up and my heart was uncertain as to where the Lord was going to take me. I was uncertain about the promises that he had made to me the beginning of this year. Now that I am 4 months in, my faith is being tested because the promises aren't on the horizon. But I know this: My Jesus is not a liar. He is true to his word. He is faithful. He is the keeper of all promises--not necessarily in my timing, but always in his and in the way he wants to bring it about. But nevertheless, it is his battle. It is his word. It is his promise.

And so, as I started resting in this DEEP truth, I "stumbled" across this article. Now, for most of you, this won't make sense, but it is a precious story to me. You see, at the beginning of this year, Jesus used this story to speak HIS promise to me--directly into my heart. Like this woman, it has been 12 years of waiting and believing for a miracle. It has been 12 years of knowing my Jesus, but nevertheless--pressing into the promises of God. I am believing, like this woman in the Bible, that this 12th year marks the END of this particular season. I believe that it will mark the beginning of walking in a deeper place of the promises of Jesus!

So, this week, the person of choice is me (and to anyone else who is believing for their land of promise) and the country of choice is Israel--a land of promise. I believe that this country (though I've never been before), like myself, is a place that yearns to remain in a place of promise and intimacy. Yet, there is struggle. There is a wrestling--in the natural and in the spiritual realms. It is the land where Jesus lived, but it was also a place where he was persecuted and crucified. Like Israel, I can relate to the wrestling with God and being accepted and yet persecuted for what I believe in and stand for.

My encouragement to you is to go HARD after the things of the Lord. If you don't know Jesus, I challenge you to challenge Him to reveal Himself to you. Pray with all diligence and belief that the Lord Almighty Jesus is ABLE. Trust in HIS timing and believe that His ways are so much higher than your ways.

Be completely and overwhelmingly blessed!!!

Jesus and the Hemorrhaging Woman

She was so, so tired. Twelve years of bleeding and the resulting anemia had left her weak and barely able to function. Her search for a cure had resulted in nothing but disappointment. Doctor after doctor attempted to staunch the life-ebbing flow. She was sick to death of their ineffective potions and cures. Their bumbling, clumsy attentions had only seemed to make matters worse. Yet while their ministrations were ineffective, they had not been ashamed to charge their exorbitant fees. She was out of resources and out of hope.

Until this morning. Word had spread quickly through the town that the man who had healed people with leprosy and people unable to walk, and even unbelievably raised a young man from the dead, was returning to town. Jesus was coming! With desperate hope once again cautiously blooming in her heart, the woman joined the many by the docks awaiting his arrival. The crowd may have prevented her from seeing his boat, but she knew he had arrived by the sound of the crowd.

Voices called out as Jesus approached. Heart thumping, she waited silently for a chance to ask for his help. The crowd pressed in, desperate for a chance just to be near him. The sound of pleading voices swelled as the Master neared. Maybe if she could just touch a piece of his clothing. If she could just get close enough...

At that moment, the crowd parted as Jairus, a well-known synagogue official, pushed his way through to Jesus. He fell at his feet with a desperate request of his own. His beautiful, precious daughter was dying. She was only twelve years old. Wouldn’t Jesus come to his house and heal her before it was too late? 

The woman’s breath caught in her throat. For as long as she had been bleeding, this little girl had been alive. Twelve years. The entire time she had slowly felt the life flow from her body, this little girl had been thriving and growing under the loving hand of this dedicated father. Now both the thriving and the waning were in the same desperate need of healing.

Jesus agreed to follow Jairus to his house. He began to walk again, moving right past where she stood. Knowing her window of opportunity was quickly closing, she pressed herself into the throng that surrounded the Master. Thrusting her arm out, she managed to touch one of the four corner fringes of his square prayer shawl resting on his shoulders.

In that moment, the unbelievable happened. Power surged through her body. Strength she hadn’t known in twelve years suddenly filled her. The flow of blood, a dozen years long, just stopped cold. She was cured! As the crowd continued past her, she stood frozen in shock at what happened. Were her pain and suffering really over? After twelve long, painful years, had the affliction that had ostracized her from family and friends simply ceased to be?

Suddenly Jesus stopped. He turned and faced the crowd. “Who is the one who touched me?” he asked.

The disciples were amazed that he would ask such a question. He was surrounded by a host of people pressing up against him. How could he ask who touched him? A better question to ask was who didn’t touch him!

Yet Jesus stood still, scanning the crowd. Heart in her throat, wishing she could sink into the ground, the woman remained rooted in her spot. She watched his eyes move over the people until they came to rest on her. And stopped. She began to tremble. Was he angry that she had just contaminated him with her touch? Expecting her to publicly confess what she had just done? As his eyes held hers, she felt compelled forward. Step by step, she approached him. She, like Jairus, fell at his feet.

How could she explain herself? Humiliated, she lifted her eyes to Jesus. But rather than be subjected to the condemnation she expected, she was surprised to see kindness in his eyes. Haltingly she spoke through lips that would hardly work for her trembling. She explained as delicately as she could about her hemorrhaging. How her fingers had brushed the fringe. How she had been cured.

Jesus smiled into her eyes. She wanted to remain anonymous, just another woman in the crowd. Jesus wanted to make it personal. “Daughter,” he gently said, “your faith has made you well.” Daughter! Of all the ways to address her, this was the least expected. After twelve years of being an outcast, unclean, contaminating everything and everyone with the slightest touch, Jesus was calling her daughter? 

Jesus continued. “Go in peace,” he told her. “And be healed of your affliction.”