Everyone has issues in his or her life. The only difference is that some issues are more grievous than others. For me my issue was blood. As a matter of fact, people referred to me as the woman with the “issue of blood.” It was a degrading statement. But I doubt if you will fully understand what I mean. 

In your society you think of sanitary pads and cosmetics and such luxuries as antiseptic soaps or antibacterial prescriptions. We had none of that. I had to tear off pieces of cloth – my cloth - to contain the flow of blood. Other women did that too but that was just during their menstrual cycle. For me, I never had a period. I had a flow everyday it’s been 12 years and counting.

I have been to every doctor any one could mention. My husband was not permitted to have anything to do with me for as long as I bled. Therefore, my marriage was a burden. My life was a burden and my finances had been ruined. I was caged in on every side. Many nights I wished I could just die.

There are certain sicknesses you have that people can understand with you. There are certain issues of your life you can’t mention not even to your closest friends. I had stopped hoping, stopped trying, stopped believing. What will be, will be, I said.

Then one day I was told that Jesus was in town. I needed to see him, but there was always a large crowd of people and even when one should say he was alone there were these men that were always with him. Maybe they were his bodyguards or just followers. But I needed a private moment and these people will never let me have it.

As I prayed and waited for my chance a man came pushing through the crowd and crying out loudly. I said to myself, I wish I had that kind of boldness. Even those men that circled Jesus could not stop him. He fell down at his feet and pleaded with him earnestly. He appeared to be a big man yes, he was one of those leaders in the synagogue. I wished I was a noticeable person maybe his followers would have allowed me.

I heard the man say his daughter was dying and she was 12 years old. I don’t know why he mentioned the age, I don’t know if it was mere coincidence that his daughter was born at about the same time my bleeding started. My heart stirred. If he had compassion on that child, would he have compassion on me? My issue was shameful otherwise I would have cried like that man. I made up my mind to push from behind, since I couldn’t come before him. I would touch his cloth, since I can’t touch his hand. Besides, he won’t know since there were so many people milling around, pushing and shoving to get close to him.

The moment I reached out and touched his cloth, he stopped. My flow stopped. The crowd stopped. My heart stopped beating. Time stopped. Everything stopped.
“Who touched me?”
How on earth did he know?
He fixed his eyes on me. But how could he be so sure it was me?

Trembling, I had to admit before the crowd. Was it humiliating? Yes. But it was also liberating. I didn’t feel like I “stole” the healing anymore. He actually said I was a bold example of what believers should be doing. 

His torture and crucifixion hit me like lightning.  It wasn’t the fact that he died, it was how he was killed. I saw how the blood was everywhere, spilled on everything that got in its way. I saw how a soldier drove a spear into his heart and how blood and water flowed out freely. I wish I could press a bandage on it to stop the flow.

His, was not an issue of blood. His, was a fountain of blood. His, was not the stinking odour of menses, it was much messier than anything I’d ever seen. His, was the blood that took the sins of the world away – an offering to God in heaven.

My “issue” was blood and he had a solution for it. What’s your “issue”? His blood also has the solution for it.

 "How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? Heb 9:14 KJV"

DeepWords Devotional
May every issue that come against you this week meet with the Blood of Jesus.

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