The Daily Devotional Podcast

To Boldly Go - 4 | Luke 8: 40-48

• Waypoint Church

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This reflection highlights how grace meets people in the places they are most tempted to hide. Through the story of the woman who touched Jesus’ cloak, it reveals that shame does not disqualify anyone from God’s mercy and that true healing often begins when we step into the light of His presence.

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“May the Lord bless you and keep you — and may His presence guide you this week.”


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Today I'm reading Luke eight, verses forty through forty eight. On the other side of the lake, the crowds welcomed Jesus because they'd been waiting for him. Then a man named Jarius, a leader of the local synagogue, came and fell at Jesus' feet, pleading with him to come home with him. His only daughter, who was about twelve years old, was dying. As Jesus went with him, he was surrounded by the crowds. A woman in the crowd had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding, and she could find no cure. Coming up behind Jesus, she touched a fringe of his robe. Immediately the bleeding stopped. Who touched me? Jesus asked. Everyone denied it, and Peter said, Master, this whole crowd is pressing up against you. But Jesus said, Someone deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me. When the woman realized that she could not stay hidden, she began to tremble and fell to her knees in front of him. The whole crowd heard her explain why she had touched him, and that she had been immediately healed.

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Daughter, he said to her, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Most everyone carries something we would rather keep hidden.

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It could be any number of things, a failure from the past, a wound that never quite healed the way we hoped, a struggle so personal that we become convinced no one else could possibly understand. Whatever form it takes, shame has a way of shrinking our world. It persuades us to stay in the background, to remain silent, and to avoid the vulnerability that comes with being truly seen. The woman in Luke eight had spent twelve years living in that kind of reality. Mark tells us she had exhausted her resources seeking help. Luke simply tells us that no one had been able to heal her. Beyond the physical suffering, her condition would have carried social and religious consequences as well. For over a decade she lived as someone set apart from normal community life, continually reminded that she was different. By the time Jesus enters the story, it would have been understandable if hope had grown thin. Yet something about him draws her forward. As the crowd presses around Jesus, she approaches quietly from behind and touches the edge of his cloak. Luke's account captures the simplicity of the moment. Immediately her bleeding stopped. If the story ended there, it would already be remarkable. But Jesus stops and he asks who touched him. At first the question seems unnecessary and bordering on ridiculous. As Peter points out, the crowd is large. People are everywhere. Yet Jesus is doing something more than identifying a person in the crowd. He's creating space for a woman who spent years hiding to step into the light. Eventually she comes forward trembling and tells her story. What follows may be the most beautiful part of the passage. Jesus doesn't rebuke her for interrupting him, he doesn't shame her for reaching out. Instead he calls her daughter and publicly affirms what's happened. In a moment she receives more than physical healing. She receives restoration. The woman who approached hoping not to be noticed, leaves being seen, known, and welcomed. We can get lost in imagining that God is most interested in the parts of our lives that appeared strong, polished, and put together. Yet the gospels consistently tell a different story. Again and again Jesus moves toward people carrying burdens, failures, wounds, and shame. He doesn't wait for them to become presentable before inviting them to come near. This is part of what makes the invitation of Hebrews so remarkable. We approach a throne of grace not because we have everything together, but because Jesus welcomes us as we are. The woman in this story discovered that she didn't need to remain hidden in order to receive his mercy.

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And neither do we.