Two weekends ago I went to our church’s women’s retreat, but I have to admit that I was not exactly jumping for joy at the thought. The problem was my attitude. I was feeling isolated and tired and rather self-pitying. I was pretty sure that God would show up but probably not for me. I was wrong. A huge shout out the to women’s retreat team of The Bridge Bible Church in Somerset, WI for their hearts for God and women.
Lisa Rambo from the Biggest Loser was our keynote speaker. She is from my neck of the woods and loves the Lord and did an awesome job of making scripture come alive. Saturday night, she told the story of the healing of the Bleeding Woman found in Mark 5:21-34.
If you are not familiar with the story, click the red link above and it will take you to it. It is the story of a woman who suffered from a bleeding disorder for 12 years. In those days, when it was “that time of the month” for a woman she was considered “unclean” and was not to be touched and made to live outside of city gates for that time. Twelve years she lived with this disorder, the Bible says she spent everything she had, suffered greatly at the hands of the doctors and had only gotten worse not better.
But God. She should have not even been in the crowd but KNEW that if only she could just touch Jesus’ robe, she would be healed. She was able to reach the hem even in the crush of people and was healed. He looked for her as he knew that power had gone from him, and knowing what had happened, she came forward. He had her tell him why she had touched his robe. He didn’t need to be told, after all he was God, but maybe some people in the crowd needed to hear her story.
To make a short story long, Lisa asked us what bloody mess we needed to take before Christ and confess. God has been doing a work in me and softening the edges, the hard places. Wooing me to surrender. I have been afraid to let go for a long time, afraid of the many thousands of pieces that I would shatter into if I accepted and surrendered the hurt.
I need to accept the fact that through circumstances beyond my control, and even some within my control, I was a bloody mess. The wounds were deep in places and some had even started to heal but I knew that I couldn’t finish the healing myself.
I am the strong one in my family of origin. I learned to pull up my big girl panties and deal with stuff. No time for feelings or looking back. I think I carried a cloak of shame of even being wounded. Nobody else seemed to care or even notice the mental illness that ravaged my mother. Why should I?
But God doesn’t need me to be the strong one. His grace is made perfect in my weakness.
God does see the hurt little girl that wants her mommy back. He wants to heal the wounds that others poor choices and even my own have inflicted on my heart. I just need to hand it all over. I know that He will not do it like I would. He will not pour a gallon of antiseptic on them and call it good. He is the Great Physician, Jehovah-Rapha, the One who Heals. He will go in carefully and stitch up my wounds with the greatest of care, and yours too, if you let him.
As I was listening to worship music this morning, this song by Tenth Avenue North got my attention. I have heard it many times and it is one of my favorites but today the words had a little more meaning. I hope you enjoy the song as much as I do.