Welcome.
Before anything else,
I want you to know.
You are allowed to arrive here exhausted.
You don't have to rally energy you don't have.
This is a place for the tired.
The Warn.
The ones who have been in the same hard season for longer than they ever imagined they would be.
So begin to find a comfortable position.
Either seated or lying down.
And let your body soften.
Gently relaxing your arms and your legs.
Relaxing the muscles in your face.
As you breathe gently and slowly.
Breathe in.
.
.
Breathe out.
And as you breathe.
Notice if there is any tension in your hands.
Your chest.
Your shoulders.
You don't have to force it away.
Just notice it.
As you continue to breathe.
Breathe in.
Fill in your lungs.
And exhale through your mouth.
As you let go.
This morning we're going to sit with a woman whose name we do not know.
The Bible never tells us.
But it tells us this.
She had been suffering for 12 years.
12 years.
And she had spent everything she had trying to get better.
And nothing had worked.
So if you have been in a long hard season,
This prayer is for you.
We turn to Mark chapter 5.
Verses 25 through 29.
And verse 34 Let these words meet you where you are.
And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding.
For 12 years.
She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors.
And had spent all she had.
Yet instead of getting better.
She grew worse.
When she heard about Jesus.
She came up behind him in the crowd.
And touched his cloak.
Because she thought.
If I just touch his clothes.
I will be healed.
Immediately her bleeding stopped.
He said to her,
Daughter.
Your faith has healed you.
Go in peace.
And be freed from your suffering.
She had suffered a great deal.
She thought.
If I just touch his clothes.
I will be healed.
Daughter.
Your faith has healed you.
Go in peace.
And be freed from your suffering.
She had been sick for 12 years.
That is not a bad week or a hard month.
Thus a decade of her life swallowed by suffering.
And in that culture,
Her condition didn't just affect her body.
It affected everything.
She was considered unclean.
Untouchable.
She was isolated by her illness in ways that went far beyond the physical.
What she was carrying was not just a medical condition.
Beloved,
It was trauma.
Layered on top of trauma.
The grief of the body.
The grief of the life she couldn't have.
The exhaustion of trying everything.
And watching it all fail.
The loneliness of being the one people quietly moved away from.
We don't know how she kept going.
But she did.
And one day she heard that Jesus was nearby.
And something in her decided.
I'm going to reach.
She didn't ask for permission.
She didn't wait for a formal introduction.
Dear friend,
She pressed through the crowds.
A crowd that by the law she had no business being in.
She reached for the hem of his garment.
Just the hymn.
That is all she believed she needed.
And power went out of him immediately.
He didn't require her to have it all together.
He didn't require a clean record or a clean bill of health.
He stopped in the middle of the crowd.
In the middle of an urgent errand to find her.
To see her.
To call her something she may not have been called in a very long time.
Daughter.
Not a case number.
Not the sick woman.
Not the unclean one.
Daughter.
You see,
Trauma tells us that we are defined by what has happened to us.
Jesus looks at the woman who reached through her suffering and says,
I see who you are underneath it all.
And I am calling you by your truest name.
Daughter.
Take a moment to reflect.
On your truest name,
By your Heavenly Father.
Now,
Let's pray.
Lord,
I come to you this morning like this woman came to you.
From behind.
Reaching through a crowd.
Not sure I have enough faith for a miracle.
But desperate enough to try.
I bring you the suffering that has gone on longer than I thought I could bear.
The thing I've prayed about so many times that I've lost count.
The weariness that lives in my bones from carrying this.
Whatever this is.
Through another week.
Another month.
Another year.
God,
I confess that sometimes I've stopped reaching.
That the disappointments have accumulated until hope feels almost dangerous.
That I've learned to manage my expectations so well.
That I've forgotten what it feels like to believe you can change things.
But this morning.
I reach.
I reach for the hymn.
That is all I need.
I don't need to have it all together.
I don't need to understand why it's taken this long.
I just need to touch the edge of your presence.
And trust that you will do the rest.
Oh God,
Will you speak over me like you spoke over her?
Call me daughter.
Call me son.
Remind me that my truest identity is not the suffering I have survived.
It is who you say I am.
I am hell.
I am known.
I am love.
I am free.
Let me feel your nearness.
Even before the breakthrough.
Let the reaching itself.
Be an act of my faith that you honor.
You told her to go in peace.
And I received that same word this morning.
In Jesus's name.
Amen.
Now receive this closing blessing as you prepare to return to your day.
May you know today that you're long suffering.
Has not made you invisible.
It has made you brave,
Beloved.
May you find the courage to reach.
Even from behind.
Even through the crowd.
Even when hope feels thin.
May Jesus stop for you.
The way he stopped for her.
And may you hear.
And the quiet of your spirit.
The word he is always speaking over you.
Daughter.
Sun.
The love.
You are seeing.
And you are free.
In Jesus's name.
Amen.
