From Bleeding Woman to Beloved Daughter (SEEN SERIES)

The story of the bleeding woman reveals Jesus' heart to heal not just our bodies, but our hearts and souls. After twelve years of suffering and isolation, an unnamed woman risks everything to touch Jesus' garment. When she tries to slip away unnoticed, Jesus stops and turns to find her—not to shame her, but to give her a new identity. He calls her "daughter", transforming her from a woman defined by an issue into a beloved child of God. This powerful encounter reminds us that we are seen, known, and loved by a Savior who sees us in our suffering.

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Transcript

Welcome And Core Theme

Teresa Whiting 0:00

It's possible that when the woman felt the healing in her body, like it says she felt immediately that she was healed. And maybe she thought, it's done. Like, I did it, mission accomplished, right? She got in, she touched the robe, Jesus healed her, and she was ready to head home without being seen or known. But Jesus said, Oh no, no, no. This healing is not complete. When Jesus stopped and said, Who touched me? He wasn't doing it for his own sake. He was doing it for her sake. He wanted her to know, I see you. I know you. I love you. Hi, friend. If you've ever wondered how God's word connects with the messy, broken parts of your story, you're in the right place. Welcome to Beauty in the Brokenness, where we have honest conversations about the Bible, our real life struggles, and the hope God brings for healing. I'm your host, Teresa Whiting, an author, Bible teacher, and trauma-informed life coach, but mostly a friend and fellow struggler. No matter who you are or where you've been, I'm inviting you to encounter the God who is still creating beauty right in the midst of your brokenness. Well, welcome friends. I'm excited about today's episode because I am going to be talking about one of my favorite women in the Bible. Now, I know I say that pretty much every week, but this story has so many layers, it has so much beauty, and it has so much to teach us about the heart of God. It's the story of the bleeding woman. And it reveals to us Jesus' intention to rescue his daughters, not just their bodies, but their hearts and their souls. This woman comes into the story isolated, rejected, and she finds welcome in the eyes of a Savior who turns toward her in her pain. Her encounter with Jesus reveals a God who breaks barriers and calls us daughters, inviting healing and wholeness to our bodies and souls. Now, if you've been around a while, you know that when I do stories of the women in scripture, I love to start with a creative retelling. You may or may not know, I'm in the middle of writing a Bible study called Scene, an Invitation to Belonging. And today's episode is coming right out of that study that I'm in the midst of writing. So we're gonna go ahead and start with the story of the bleeding woman. I hover over the produce, debating whether to get pomegranates, dates, or olives to accompany tonight's dinner. I tilt my head to one side, sweet or salty? I choose the olives. Salty wins every time. Across from me, a servant is chattering about the excitement in her master's house. Abigail, the wife of Gyrus, our synagogue leader, has just given birth. Her servant bustles about chattering as she piles dates, figs, and loaves of fresh bread into her sack. Food for the new mother and her household. I wonder if she will manage to carry a load of vegetables or fish back, but she seems confident with her choices. I'm about to ask her what Gyrus and Abigail have named their baby girl when I feel a sudden stab of pain. It nearly takes my breath away, and I decide it's best to purchase my olives and get home. Before I'm even halfway there, I feel the blood begin to flow. It's coming fast and begins to trickle down the inside of my right thigh. I'm not due for at least ten days. I want to get home quickly, but my cramping is intense, and walking is taking every ounce of energy. My pace slows to a crawl as I push my tunic between my legs and clutch my abdomen. I shudder to think others seeing the blood, which is now reaching my ankle. Arriving home, I place the dates on the counter and search for rags to catch the unexpected flow. The blood isn't slowing down. Across town, Gyrus and Abigail rest beside their baby daughter, eating sliced figs and warm bread, while I fold myself into a corner and try to catch my breath.

SPEAKER_00 4:32

The bleeding doesn't stop that night, nor the next, nor the next.

Twelve Years Of Isolation

Teresa Whiting 4:39

Twelve years later, I place one small slice of olive on top of my barley bread and take a bite, savoring the richness of this treat. It has been a long time since I've tasted an olive, but Samuel found these along the market path and added them to my sack this week. A small kindness. Someone must have dropped them. No matter, a quick rinse makes them perfectly fine. I have no one else to cook for, so there is no need to worry about Jonas complaining about the remaining flecks of dirt that might crunch between his teeth. Oh Jonas, my heart hurts when I think of the life we might have had. We had only been married a few months when my bleeding began. Before that, we had no success in conceiving a child. At first I thought it was a miscalculation on my part, but after days and weeks, we realized this was no ordinary menstrual flow. Jonas stayed away from me as we couldn't risk him becoming unclean and continually going through the purification rituals. At first he seemed desperate to help, but as weeks turned to months, he became impatient and irritable. Finally, after eighteen months of waiting, he left for work one day and never returned. Two weeks later I found the certificate of divorce just inside the doorframe of our home. Jonas attached an additional parchment, explaining he didn't want to leave me. But how can a man stay with a woman he cannot come near? How can one build a family with a woman who can never be intimate, never bear him a child? Because we hadn't been married long and he knew I would be alone, he kindly provided as large a sum of money as he could. I tried to make it last. The first few years were the hardest, living alone, untouched and untouchable. Even my own family couldn't comfort me. Once I tried to slip through the crowd to listen to the scrolls being read in the temple, but I was stopped and questioned. Word had spread that I was the woman with the issue of blood, unclean. I kept waiting for the blood to dry up. Sometimes it would stop for a day or two. Once several years ago, it stopped for twelve straight days, and I believed that Adonai had heard my prayer and healed me. But the day it came back it wrecked me, emotionally, physically, even spiritually. Sometimes I think I've accepted this fate. Other times I feel nothing but despair and anger. Why me? Why this illness? Will I ever get used to life in the margins of society? I have not been to a doctor in years. The money dried up long before the blood, and none of them could help. I tried everything. After the herbs and medications failed, I took potions and rubbed ointments on myself. I even tried carrying around the ashes of an ostrich egg in a linen bag, a strange and desperate remedy that didn't work. For all the money I spent I received only empty promises and puzzled responses. Some truly wanted to help. Others saw my desperation and took advantage of me. I am more broken now than I've ever been. I'm not sure which is heavier, the physical pain or the weight of my loneliness. Recently, there's been talk of a rabbi, a healer, one who opens the eyes of the blind and cleanses lepers. They say he is a prophet from Nazareth. Some scoff at the idea of anything good coming from that region. But Jesus' reputation has spread even to me. I understand he can heal with just a touch, and at times merely with his words. Some believe he's the long-awaited Messiah. I'm desperate to find him. He's been in the city a few times now, but I've yet to see him with my own eyes.

SPEAKER_00 8:51

I have no assurance he would heal me, or even come near to me. But things can't get much worse.

Teresa Whiting 8:59

Surely he will be surrounded, and approaching a crowd has its risks. I, of all people, am not welcome in a crowd. But I am desperate, and sometimes desperation makes a woman do risky things. I wash and wash and wash again, nearly scraping my skin raw. I begin to make my way toward the city, hiding beneath my shawl, shrinking into its folds like a shadow, desperate to remain unseen. As I approach the crowd, fear seizes me. I crouch low, paralyzed with anxiety and indecision. At that moment, a man comes and falls at the feet of Jesus. I recognize him as Jairus, the synagogue leader. I've caught glimpses of him over the years with Abigail and their precious daughter visiting the temple for family worship. But never have I seen him like this. There is a wild desperation in his eyes. He too has come to Jesus for something no doctor can provide. Please, he cries, please come and heal my daughter. She's on the brink of death, and she's only twelve years old. His voice cracks and tears flow freely at his last words. Jairus's humility astonishes me. He's a powerful man whose community denounces Jesus as a blasphemous imposter. Falling at Jesus' feet and faith may well get him removed from his position. But he doesn't seem to care. Sometimes desperation makes a man do risky things. Immediately Jesus turns to go with Jairus toward his house and the crowd follows. I hear a murmur among the people. She's only twelve, they say. Twelve years is far too short. I have bled for twelve years.

SPEAKER_00 10:51

They have not been short for me. Twelve years have been far too long.

Rumors Of A Healer

Teresa Whiting 10:57

I realize there will be no opportunity for me to have an audience with Jesus alone. Emboldened by Gyrus's courage, I make up my mind. I squeeze my way through the crowd, reminding myself that I have washed as best I can. I will not touch Jesus, but if I can simply get close enough, perhaps even the hem of his robe will heal me. Surely, he who can heal with a word can heal through his garment. He doesn't even have to know. I will slip through the mass of followers, brush against his robe, and silently slip away. I'm making little progress, so I decide to go further ahead toward the home of Gyrus, knowing they will pass this way. As they approach, I crouch down in the street, the dust floating into my eyes. Just then, I feel the bleeding begin again. No, please, not now, I whisper inaudibly. I refuse to give up. I'm so close. My heart is racing. He's heading this way. As he nears me, I get down on my hands and knees, keeping my head low, watching the robes of the men passing. No, not that one. Not that one. Now I see Jesus moving past me and I stretch toward him from behind, my fingers just grazing the hem of his garment. Instantly I feel it. The blood stops flowing. This is different from any other time. My abdomen relaxes. Even my soaked rags dry up. My shoulders lose their tension. My muscles exhale in relief. I am healed. I burst into tears of joy as I pull away from the crowd. But before I can steal away, I hear a terrifying question that will expose who I am and what I've done. Who touched me? Jesus has stopped walking. He is scanning the crowd. Gyrus's panic is heard and his voice, please, he insists, there's no time. Jesus reassures him while turning around. I see his feet pointed in my direction. The one they call Peter steps in front of him, blocking me from his sight. Lord, the whole crowd is pressing in on you, he says. How can you say who touched me? For a moment I let out the breath I'd been holding, but Jesus is undeterred. Someone touched me, he says, for I know that power has gone out from me. I realize now that I cannot slip away unnoticed. I must confess, what will happen when the crowd finds out that an unclean woman is in their midst? When Jesus learns that I am the one who touched his garment and drew power from him. Terrified, I come forward and fall at his feet. The shawl slips from my face as the whole story tumbles out. Twelve years, I cry. I have been bleeding for twelve years. Some in the crowd gasp, others step back as they realize I am the woman with the issue of blood. I tell him of the failed attempts, the hopelessness and the desperation.

SPEAKER_00 14:16

I thought, if only I could touch your clothing, I would be healed. And I was.

Teresa Whiting 14:22

Jesus does not recoil. He addresses me with a word so unfamiliar at first, I don't realize he's speaking to me. Daughter, he says with a tenderness I haven't heard in years. He pauses, and I lift my head, for I can feel his eyes on me. I see in them a glisten of tears. Take courage. Your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be free from your suffering. I stare at him for a long moment, trembling with joy, relief, and wonder.

Risking The Crowd

SPEAKER_00 15:01

Daughter, the word washes over me. How long has it been since someone has seen me? Really seen me?

Teresa Whiting 15:10

I take it in. As the word daughter lingers in the air, a servant bursts through the crowd, sweat dripping into his eyes. He's been running. Jairus, he pants, your daughter is dead. Don't bother the teacher anymore. Gyrus drops to his knees beside me. No, no, he cries. I'm so sorry, I say. Instantly my joy mingles with guilt. Maybe if Jesus hadn't stopped to talk with me. But Jesus merely looks into Gyrus's eyes and with the same tenderness says, Do not fear, only believe, and your daughter will be made well.

SPEAKER_00 15:56

Epilogue.

Teresa Whiting 15:57

Just weeks after Jesus healed me, I find myself at the market beside a beautiful young woman carefully choosing figs from my favorite vendor. Father, she calls, scooping an armload into her bag, will these be enough? I follow her gaze to Gyrus, smiling broadly, his heart bursting with love. Yes, he says. Then he turns toward me. Do you know my daughter Hava? His eyes warm and sparkling, we're honoring her twelve years of life. She's becoming a daughter of the covenant this year. You must join us. I smile, tears brimming. Hava, life, the name itself is a reminder of the one who heals and makes whole. Of course, I say, overwhelmed with gratitude, I'll bring something salty to go with the sweet.

SPEAKER_00 16:52

As I turn toward home, my heart swells, knowing I too am a daughter, loved by a gracious and faithful father. Okay, I want to encourage you to read this story straight from the scripture.

The Touch And The Halt

Daughter: Identity Restored

Two Daughters Intertwined

Read The Text Slowly

Body And Soul Healing

Teresa Whiting 17:11

You will actually find it in three of the gospels. It's in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and I'll put the passages in the show notes. But what I love about this is that in each of those books, there's a little bit of a different nuance to her story. So don't rush through it. Go through it slowly. Take in all of the various details. There's a few things that I want to point out from this story. And the first is this God cares about our healing, our body, our mind, our heart, our soul. When we think of the bleeding woman, I mean, she is a woman who has suffered for years physically. Okay, she had ongoing pain, exhaustion. She probably had anemia because of the loss of blood and maybe fatigue or dizziness. Not only that, she had to manage that constant flow of blood without the modern conveniences that we have. But not only did she have that physical condition, when we look at that story in scripture, they were still living under the Old Testament covenant, which meant that she was continuously unclean. That would have led to isolation, loneliness. She would have been unable to go to synagogue. And so you've you've got not just a physical struggle, but now an emotional struggle, a relational struggle. You know, in the story, I talked about her potentially having a husband. I don't know. You know, there I take a lot of creative license with these stories. Scripture doesn't tell us that, but we do know that even if she did have a husband, if she was married, they would not have been able to have been intimate because of her physical condition. When Mark describes this woman in chapter 5, 29, and verse 34, he uses the word affliction or suffering, depending on the translation you read. But the Greek word literally means a scourge, a whip. Figuratively, it would refer to deep suffering or torment. This word carries with it the idea of a torturous level of pain. This was not simply a woman who was uncomfortable. She was in excruciating pain for years and years. And Jesus chose to heal her. But one thing I noticed is that she took initiative. I think another thing that her story demonstrates is that faith is greater than fear. It would have been extremely risky and unacceptable for her to be in a crowd. This woman was unclean. Therefore, if she touched anybody, those people would become unclean. So she would not have been allowed to even be in a crowd of people. And yet she overcomes that fear. And we know she's afraid because it talks about her trembling at Jesus' feet and pouring out her whole story. One of the things that I notice about her is that she didn't let fear stop her. I think part of it was desperation. I mean, she needed Jesus. She knew she had tried every other option and nothing was working. And so she decides, I'm going to go to Jesus. I'm going to go straight to the one who can help me and heal me. And I think it's so interesting that she wanted to slip away unnoticed, right? But Jesus turns toward her. He says to her, Your faith has healed you. And that word means faith, belief, trust, confidence. It refers to faith as given by God to someone and it births in them the confidence and the belief that God will do what he says. Now she had no assurance that God would heal her. And yet she comes to him with this faith, with this belief that if I just touch the hem of his garment, I can be healed. And Jesus says to her, Your faith has healed you. And that word healed is the Greek word sozo. It means to save, to rescue, to deliver, to heal, to preserve. My favorite meaning for that word is to make whole. And I think when we look at how Jesus responded to this woman, he made her whole. It wasn't just physically, it was socially and spiritually and emotionally. See, it's possible. That when the woman felt the healing in her body, like it says she felt immediately that she was healed. And maybe she thought it's done. Like, I did it, mission accomplished, right? She got in, she touched the robe, Jesus healed her, and she was ready to head home without being seen or known. But Jesus said, Oh no, no, no. This healing is not complete. When Jesus stopped and said, Who touched me? First of all, he was God. He knew who touched him. He wasn't doing it for his own sake. He was doing it for her sake. He wanted her to know, I see you, I know you. He was giving her value and dignity. He was lifting her up. I had a conversation with Dr. Kurt Thompson at the beginning of the scene series where he talks about this scene with the bleeding woman. That's in episodes 122 and 123. And I'm telling you, those are do not miss episodes. If you've not ever heard Dr. Thompson, you have got to go back and listen to those episodes. But one of the things he says is, you cannot know God without experiencing being known by him. See, God just doesn't want us to know him from afar. He doesn't want to be just a God who answers our prayers and we can go to him at any time. No, he wants to he wants us to know, I see you. I know you. I love you. I'm with you. When he turns toward the woman, the bleeding woman, he lifts her from her position, her lowly position. He exalts her and he says, daughter. And that's the last thing I want to mention is that Jesus clarifies our identity as beloved daughters. When we take this story in context, it's actually the story of two daughters. You've got the bleeding woman and Jairus' daughter. And there's so many parallels between their stories. You see the love of a father towards his daughter. You see these two people from such different stratuses of society humbling themselves before Jesus, willing to take risks. I mean, it was risky for her to be in a crowd, and it was just as risky for Jairus to be in a crowd. And what I think is so interesting as well is that it mentions that she had been bleeding for 12 years and that Jairus' daughter was 12 years old. Now, I have an actual whole entire episode called The Tale of Two Daughters. That's back in episode 41. I'll link that in the show notes as well, because that also has a creative retelling. And it's from both the bleeding woman and Jairus' daughter. So you get the the two perspectives there. So I'm not really going to say more about that. If you want to know more about those parallels, you can go listen to that episode. But in the Bible, names carry really deep meanings, right? They often um reveal a person's character or their destiny. And it's so interesting to me when people in the Bible don't have a name, like they're not named. So this woman is only known to us as the bleeding woman or the woman with the issue of blood. And that label it so clearly reflects her suffering, her isolation, her exclusion. But when Jesus turns toward her, he gives her a new label, a new identity, one that signifies welcome and security and belonging and love. He calls her daughter. I mean, maybe I probably should have titled this episode the beloved daughter instead of the bleeding woman. Because really, that's how we should refer to her. That's who she is, that's her identity. She is no longer the bleeding woman, the woman with the issue of blood. She is the beloved daughter of God. So as we close out this episode, I want to just give you a few questions for you to consider about your own life. And the first is this are you still waiting for healing? I want to encourage you to press into Jesus and to know that healing is about far more than just our physical bodies. Jesus wants to meet you in your suffering. And I make no guarantees that he's gonna heal your physical pain. And I don't know what it's like to live with a chronic illness. But next week on the podcast, I actually am gonna be having a conversation with Ashley Jameson, who does know what that's like. Another question I have for you, because sometimes approaching Jesus might feel risky or frightening or uncomfortable. And maybe we feel that way because of social pressure or shame or uncertainty, or even, you know, a history of being disappointed with God. Like I've prayed about this for long enough, or I've prayed and my prayers haven't been answered. But I want to ask you, what might it look like for you to step forward in faith anyway? To keep pressing in, to keep coming to God, to keep coming to Jesus and asking him to meet you where you are. Whether it be physical illness, emotional, relational, keep moving toward him and imagine him turning toward you. And then the last question is this have you claimed your identity as a beloved daughter? Because that is who you are. You are seen, you are known, and you are loved. Thanks for hanging out with me today on Beauty in the Brokenness. To find anything I mentioned on the episode, go to TeresaWiting.com/slash episode-141 to find all the show notes. If you're enjoying this podcast, would you take just a minute or two and leave a five-star rating and review wherever you listen to podcasts? Apple Podcasts is ideal, but you can also leave one on Spotify. And if you're listening in real time, I am up to 95 reviews, and oh my goodness, I would so love to get to 100. This is not just for my sake, but it's for the sake of all the people out there that need to discover this podcast. Because as you put reviews, it gets shared with more people. And I'm just gonna say thank you in advance. In closing, I want to leave you with this prayer from number six, 24 to 26. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you. The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.