And a woman who had a flux of blood since twelve years, who, having spent all her living on physicians, could not be cured by any one,
On the way to a dying girl's bedside, a woman in the crowd was past all help. For twelve years an illness had drained her strength and her money, and no one could cure her.
The verse shuts every human door. She had not ignored her illness. She had tried every cure money could buy.
Humanly speaking, her case was hopeless. She had already spent all she had on doctors, but it did no good. Her cure, if it was to happen at all, must be free, and it must be a miracle.
The length of her illness is not a stray detail. One writer reads the number itself as part of the picture. (The phrases he quotes come from an older translation of Mark's account of the same woman.)
She had been ill for twelve years. She had "suffered many things," had "spent all," was "nothing bettered," but "rather grew worse." Twelve is the number that speaks of completeness in matters of human administration. Here it was complete misery. Every human resource proved a frustrating disappointment, not a cure. Complete poverty was the result, for she had "spent all."
She paid everything she owned and got nothing. The physician she was about to reach works on other terms.
Christ is the cheapest physician of all — He takes no fee… He wants us to bring Him nothing but broken hearts. When He has cured us, He wants us to give Him nothing but our love.
Her trouble was not only physical. Under the law of Israel her condition made her unclean, and one writer sees in that a picture of every sinner.
Her hopeless situation is a telling picture of a sinner. The picture is not so much of his blindness (the inability to see God's glory) or lameness (the inability to come to Him). Rather, the sinner is not only unclean but a constant source of defilement to others (see Leviticus 15:19 onwards). Her case also shows how unable human means are to deal with the problem of sin. The statement that she had "suffered" many things from many physicians underlines this.
What she believed about Christ was therefore remarkable.
How great her trial and sorrow must have been during those twelve years of uncleanness. Greater still was her faith, and the testimony she gave to the holy Person of our Lord. Everything that came into contact with such an unclean person became unclean. She believed her touch could not make Christ unclean, because He is holy. She also believed that His power could heal her.
Luke places her story inside another story. Jairus's daughter was about twelve years old; the woman had been ill for twelve years. Read side by side, the two cases say one thing.
The woman's disease had lasted twelve years and the dead girl was twelve years of age. Putting the two together, we see in the child the only possible end of what was at work in the woman.
Some writers also read this interruption on a larger scale, as a picture of Israel and its Messiah.
Christ was on His way to heal the nation. But on the way the poor woman came to Him. She had suffered a discharge of blood for twelve years. She had come to the end of all resources, whether in herself or in others, as she looked for a cure and found none. She came in the energy of faith, and at once she got relief. This is what has happened. The nation of Israel refused their Messiah. But faith proved His ability to save even while He was on earth, and it still proves it now that He is on high.
- Twelve years — the number speaks of a full and finished misery. She tried everything, and nothing worked.
- Spent all — human help took everything she had and gave nothing back. Her search for a cure left her poor.
- Shut out — the law made her unclean, and a source of defilement to others. Her disease cost her company as well as strength.
- Free and miraculous — every payment had failed, so her cure could only be a gift. The true Physician takes no fee. He asks only for a broken heart.
- The end and the answer — the dead child of twelve shows where the woman's twelve years were heading. The faith that reached Christ on the road still reaches Him now.
coming up behind, touched the hem of his garment, and immediately her flux of blood stopped.
Jesus was walking to the house of a dying girl when a woman nobody noticed reached from behind and touched the edge of His clothing. Why did her touch heal her when a whole crowd was pressing against Him, and why would the Lord not let it stay secret?
Twelve years had ended in nothing, so the cure, when it came, had to come as a gift.
Humanly speaking, her case was hopeless. She had already spent everything she had on physicians, with no result. If a cure was to happen at all, it had to be free and miraculous. She spoke to no one. She did not ask even an Apostle to help her; nor did she, like Jairus, fall at the Lord's feet and beg for His compassion.
The word points to something specific. Every Israelite had to wear a tassel on the edge of his clothing. She reached for that tassel with a faith that was far from perfect.
"Tassel," the fringe of Numbers 15:38 and Deuteronomy 22:12. Norris: "Faith, though disfigured by superstition, may still be blessed."
The law treated her illness as uncleanness, not just weakness. Her faith counted on one exception to it.
How great her trial and her sorrow must have been during the twelve years of her uncleanness. Greater still was her faith and the testimony she bore to the holy Person of our Lord. Everything that came in touch with such an unclean person became unclean. She believed her touch could not make Christ unclean, because He is holy. She also believed His power could heal her.
The contact ran the opposite way from what the law led anyone to expect.
Jesus is the only One who was ever here who could not be defiled. The touch did not pass any uncleanness into Him. Instead, power went out of Him to drive off the power of death and wipe out the stain.
Many bodies pressed against Him that day. Only one hand drew anything from Him.
His question also brought something else to light. Many had been touching Him in different ways, yet no other touch had drawn any power from Him. Why was this? Because, of all the touches, hers was the only one that sprang out of a sense of need, and faith. When these two things are present the touch is always effective.
There was no waiting and no room for doubt. Two people knew what had happened, each in a different way.
The woman got what she looked for and wanted at once; the cure was immediate. It is very blessed to think of what happened after this. She knew in her body that she was healed, and Jesus knew that power had gone out of Him. You could not persuade that woman, if you talked with her from morning to night, that she had not got the relief. She knew it by receiving the blessing; He knew it because the power went out of Him into her.
Her wasted years and failed treatments hold up a mirror. Writers see in them the human effort to fix what only Christ can fix.
The woman had spent all she had on physicians with no good result. What a picture of people trying to cure their ills by good works, charity work and religions of every kind! But it is Christ they need. Sin is draining away their very life-blood, and sin will not yield to human treatment. She only touched the hem of the Lord's garment, and she was healed at once. The simplest touch of faith taps the great resources of His power. His power could heal her disease. But His own death and blood-shedding were needed to take away sin, and her disease was a picture of sin.
She would have gone home healed and satisfied. He stopped her, because getting relief is not the same as knowing the One who gives it.
She had not touched the Lord in vain; she had got relief and was going away satisfied with that. But the Lord was not satisfied with that. He wanted her to know more than the power that could heal her; He wanted her to know the love He had for needy ones like her... Knowing the grace that saves us is wonderful. Knowing the One the grace comes from is the greater blessing.
- Empty — twelve years, every physician tried, every coin spent: a cure could only come free and by miracle.
- Edge — she claimed nothing but the tassel on His clothing, and faith can be blessed even when it is mixed with superstition.
- Reversed — her touch should have made Him unclean; instead, power passed out of Him into her.
- Distinguished — a crowd pressed Him, but only the touch of need and faith drew power; that touch always works.
- Enlarged — she would have settled for the cure; He stopped her so she would know the Person the grace comes from.
And Jesus said, Who has touched me? But all denying, Peter and those with him said, Master, the crowds close thee in and press upon thee, and sayest thou, Who has touched me?
A crowd is crushing in on Jesus, and out of that crush one woman reaches for His clothes. His question — who touched Him? — sounds impossible to answer, and the whole verse turns on the difference between the crowd's pressure and her touch.
Everyone denies touching Him, and Peter's reply tries to make the question go away. Jesus will not let it drop. He insists that what happened was neither an accident nor the shove of a crowd.
A woman with an urgent need crossed His path. She had spent everything she had on doctors, and no one could cure her. It was, humanly speaking, a hopeless case... It was useless for Peter or the others to explain it away, when all denied it. It was useless to say that the crowd was pressing in, and so why ask who touched Him. The Lord stood by it: somebody had touched Him. It was not a crowd's pressure. It was not an accident. It was clearly one person who had touched Him. There was the real resort of faith, however weak.
Peter's objection makes good sense. That is its weakness — it counts the crowd but not the One asking.
The disciples judged the Lord's question by "common sense," which always deceives in the things of God. This case called for faith, not common sense. All the circumstances in it were the reverse of common. They ignored how unique the One asking was. If they had not, Peter and the others would never have said, in that dismissive way, "Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you — and you say, Who touched me?"
The ESV ends the verse at "pressing in on you!" The words after that come from an older translation.
Many bodies pressed against Him. One hand drew from Him. The verse turns on that difference, and three words catch it.
But Jesus distinguished between the touch of faith and the jostle of idle curiosity. It has been said, "Flesh presses; faith touches." The crowd was there to hear or see some new thing... But the woman's touch was of a different order. The contact of her finger expressed a deeply felt need for the Lord's mercy to step in on her behalf. It also expressed her confidence that the mercy she needed was there in the person of Jesus. She could find it nowhere else in this sad and disappointing world.
If many were touching Him all the time, the obvious question is why power went out for her alone.
The Lord, of course, knew who had touched Him and why, and that power had gone out from Him. But the disciples' question raises an interesting point. With all the pushing and shoving, many people were touching the Lord all the time. So why did power go out for this one woman alone, with a life-changing effect? Was she the only one who had a need? Surely not. It was the woman's attitude that made all the difference. She had come to Him with a deep sense of her need. She knew she could not solve the problem herself. She came in faith that Jesus, and Jesus only, could heal her.
He already knew who had touched Him. So He asked for her sake, not for information.
Why did the Lord bring about this situation? We can be quite sure it was not to embarrass her but to bless her. Had the Lord simply let her go, she would have felt that her act was unauthorised and her healing a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to really meet and get to know her benefactor. The Lord wanted her not only to be healed, but to know that He had blessed her, willingly and permanently... Her safety was not to be based on her feelings, but on His word.
The scene repeats itself wherever people gather around Christ's name.
Peter, always ready, objected to the question. The crowd was such that many were bound to be touching the Lord (Luke 8:45). But divine omniscience was not likely to confuse the touch of faith with the rough push of a curious crowd. In the same way He tells apart today the great crowd who fill "places of worship" for all sorts of reasons, and the true hearts among them who really seek Him in humble faith.
- Pressing — the crowd pressed against Him and got nothing. Being near Christ in a crowd is not touching Him.
- Touching — one woman came with a deep need and the belief that He alone could heal. Her touch alone drew power.
- Knowing — the disciples answered from common sense and missed who was asking. He knew the difference between a jostle and faith.
- Asking — He raised the question to bless her, not to expose her. Then her healing would not feel stolen, and her peace would rest on His word.
- Applying — the same two groups stand around Him still. The question is not whether you are in the crowd, but whether you have touched Him in faith.
And Jesus said, Some one has touched me, for *I* have known that power has gone out from me.
The crowd was pressing in on Jesus from every side, yet He stopped and said that one person had touched Him. How could He tell one touch from a thousand, and what was the power that went out of Him?
The objection sounds reasonable. In that crush, everyone was touching Him. Jesus refused to accept it.
It was no use to say that the crowd was pressing round Him, so why ask who touched Him. The Lord held to it: somebody had touched Him. It was not the crowd's pressure. It was not an accident. It was clearly one person who had touched Him. In that touch was the real appeal of faith, however weak. Crowding around Him could draw no power out of Him. That was not how Jesus healed.
The crowd and the woman wanted different things from the same Person, and He read the difference.
It has been said, "Flesh presses; faith touches." The multitude were there to hear or see something new. They were driven by the common craze for novelty… But the touch of the woman was of a different order. The contact of her finger expressed a deeply-felt need for the mercy of Jehovah to step in on her behalf. It also expressed her confidence that the mercy she needed was there for her in the person of Jesus. She could find it nowhere else in this sad and disappointing world.
The healing power did not come from her. It was in Him, and faith drew on it.
Luke 8:46 and 6:19: it is the power to heal which resided in Christ, and became effective when the touch of faith was there.
Jesus did not have to look around and guess. His question was not ignorance, and the same discernment operates now.
God, who knows all things, was not likely to confuse the touch of faith with the rude push of a curious crowd. He makes the same distinction today. Many people crowd into "places of worship" for all sorts of reasons. Among them are true hearts who really seek Him in humble faith.
The verse says He knew because He perceived it. One writer explains what that perceiving was.
He knew this not by carefully noting the actions and character on show in those around Him. He perceived in His spirit, and knew in Himself, the unspoken thoughts and choices taking shape, moment by moment, inside the hidden souls of men. He saw them as clearly as He saw physical things that others could only know through their senses.
She had what she came for and was ready to disappear. His question exposed her in front of everyone — and it was kindness.
We can be quite sure that it was not to embarrass but to bless her. If the Lord had simply let her go, she would have felt that she had no right to do it, and that her healing was a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to meet and get to know the One who had helped her. The Lord did not want her only to be healed. He wanted her to know that He had blessed her, gladly and for good… Her safety was not to rest on her feelings, but on His word.
The power that left Him met her body. He then gave her something the healing alone could not.
She had not ventured to touch the Lord in vain, she had got relief and was going away satisfied with that. But the Lord was not satisfied with that. He wanted her to know more than the power that could heal her. He wanted her to know the love He had for people in need like her… Knowing the grace that saves us is wonderful. But knowing the One from whom the grace comes is the greater blessedness.
His question also brought her out into the open. One writer draws a lesson from that for everyone who receives from Him.
She had received from Him; now she must acknowledge it. She received it in secret. She must confess it openly. That was only right. Is it not the same now? If we have received an even greater blessing — life and salvation, bought at the cost of His atoning death — should we not confess it openly?
- Need — her touch carried a deeply felt need, and the certainty that mercy was in Jesus and nowhere else.
- Touch — crowding is not contact. Pressure drew nothing out of Him. One touch of faith drew everything.
- Power — the healing power was in Christ Himself. It worked the moment faith reached for it.
- Word — He asked His question not to shame her but to bless her, so her safety rested on His word and not on her feelings.
- Person — the greatest gift was not the cure but the Healer. Relief brought her to the One whose love had relieved her, and sent her out to confess Him openly.
And the woman, seeing that she was not hid, came trembling, and falling down before him declared before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was immediately healed.
The woman had hoped to take her healing quietly and slip away in the crowd. Instead she stands exposed in front of everyone. Why would the Lord, who had already healed her, not let her go in secret?
She had every reason to stay hidden. What opened her up was not pressure but His presence.
The woman hid herself, for there was shame in her. She was aware of the disease that had needed healing. "But she could not be hid." The heart always shrinks from opening up while it is turned in on itself. But when it looks at Christ, it opens to Him. That is always the effect of being in the presence of Jesus. Shame, reputation, character, all give way before the sense of what He is.
Her fear was not shyness. Under the law her condition made her unclean.
Because He knew her secret act, she had caught a glimpse of the divine majesty of Him whose garment she had touched. And while He was so holy and so mighty, how unworthy was she! Was she not, according to the requirement of Jehovah's sacred law, a polluted and defiled woman (Lev. 15:19)? Had not the stern command gone out that if any man or animal touched the mountain of Jehovah's holiness, it must be stoned (Ex. 19:12-13)? Jehovah, who came down on Mount Sinai long ago, was now in Capernaum. So the woman came to Jesus in fear and trembling. She had become the vessel of His power, but she did not yet know the word of His grace.
The Lord's question looks harsh until you ask what she would have carried home without it.
Why did the Lord bring about this situation? We can be quite sure that it was not to embarrass her but to bless her. Had the Lord simply let her go, she would have felt that her act was unauthorised, and her healing a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to meet and get to know her benefactor. The Lord wanted her not only to be healed but to know that He had blessed her, willingly and with permanent effect. He did not want her to go away without hearing His words "go in peace". Her safety did not rest on her feelings, but on His word.
She did nothing heroic. She confessed in the only way she could.
She did not stand up and declare in a polished speech the blessing she had received from Him, confessing the One who had healed her. That would have been going outside her proper place and position. Nor did she face the proud Pharisees in private, as the man in John 9 did. She was only a poor, weak woman, and she did not have the courage for that.
Instead she spoke to Jesus, and the crowd overheard.
She confessed to Him — surely an easy and delightful task — and in confessing to Him, she confessed before all the people.
(The older reading says she declared it to Him before all the people. The ESV says "in the presence of all the people.")
What happened to her once, the Epistles later state as a rule for everyone.
The disciples of Jesus heard her declare "why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed." The confession of her lips completed the faith in her heart, and everyone present heard it. The Epistles teach this same pairing of faith and confession as the two things required from man for his blessing through the gospel: "For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. For the Scripture says, 'Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame'" (Rom. 10:10-11).
Private dealings with Christ come first. The public word follows, and the trembling is normal.
Anyone must first deal with Jesus, and learn the lessons of His healing grace in secret, before he can truly confess Him before others. Jesus turned around in the crowd. She heard His voice. His loving eye picked her out from among thousands. The woman fell down before Him and told Him all the truth "before all the people." With fear and trembling, I admit, as we all feel when we first leave the long-familiar ranks of unbelief.
- Hidden. Shame keeps the heart closed. Standing in front of Christ opens it, and reputation gives way to who He is.
- Faced. The Lord stopped her not to shame her but to bless her — so the cure would not feel stolen and she would meet the One who gave it.
- Feared. Her trembling was real: an unclean woman had touched the Holy One, and she did not yet know His grace, only His power.
- Confessed. She made no speech. She spoke to Jesus, and the crowd heard. That is confession the most timid person can manage.
- Sent. Faith in the heart, confession with the mouth, then His own word of peace. Her assurance rested on what He said, not on how she felt.
And he said to her, [Be of good courage,] daughter; thy faith has healed thee; go in peace.
A woman healed in secret is now standing in front of the whole crowd, having just told Jesus everything. She was already healed and could have slipped away unseen. His answer shows why He stopped her.
His first word to her is a family name. She came for healing and left holding something she had not known she could claim. (Some translations of this verse also include the words "Be of good comfort.")
She did not know when she came up that she had a title to Himself. So she modestly retreated as a debtor. It is very right that a debtor should carry herself with humility; but Christ is more to you and me than that. The healer puts Himself into relationship. When He asked after her she began to tremble. Her faith had measured her title to touch Him. But she was not ready to look at Him when He called her face to face — not until He said, "Daughter, be of good comfort." There is no spirit of liberty in our souls if we do not know relationship.
He credits her faith, but the healing did not come out of her faith. It came out of Him, and faith was how she reached it.
Faith knows our need. It also knows we are helpless to meet that need. And it sees something of the excellence of the Person of Jesus — it sees that in Him there is grace and power to meet the need. Faith also makes a person humble. The needy soul is ready to take the lowly place and to say, like the woman, "If I only touch the fringe of His garment, I will be made well." We do not have to do some great thing to secure the blessing. That would only feed our pride. We become willing to be nothing and to give Christ all the glory. The power is in Christ, not in the faith. The touch of faith secures the blessing by putting us in touch with the One who holds all the merit.
The blessing was never attached to the cloth she touched.
Nothing here encourages any superstitious reverence for the tassel of His robe that she touched. The Lord declared to the woman in the hearing of all that the faith within her had saved her, or made her whole.
She was already healed before He spoke. What her confession gained her was His word.
By His questions Jesus brought the woman to the point of confession. In keeping with the spirit of the gospel, the faith of her heart had to come out in the confession of her lips. That brought her more blessing, for she received the words, "Your faith has made you well; go in peace." Without that word, the dread that her illness would come back might have shadowed her mind. Her faith, shown in the touch, brought the healing. Her confession brought out the word of assurance that set her mind at ease. How many people today lack the full assurance of salvation because they have lacked the courage to confess His Name fully.
She had felt the change in her body. He did not leave her standing on that feeling.
She received more than the feeling of being healed. She also received the full, definite assurance from the lips of the Son of God that her faith had made her well. Every believer must have the clear, authoritative Word of God about the absolute certainty of his eternal salvation. Nothing but this can give certainty. With His Word, she may well indeed "go in peace."
The phrase was an ordinary parting greeting in that world. Jesus said the same words to one other person.
One woman came to Him in Simon the Pharisee's house for the forgiveness of sins. He said to her what He said to this woman who came to Him for a physical benefit: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 7:50). Because of this connection we can rightly treat these words as carrying more weight than the ordinary farewell greeting of that region. Peace, as it is meant here, is something the soul owns inside. It is the opposite of worry and anxiety, which at their worst can rise in a person from a sense of guilt before God or from the fear of death. Only assurance from God can drive that anxiety away. So peace follows faith, and it belongs to the mind and heart.
Even the first word of the two carries weight. He sends her off; He does not leave her hovering.
Some people never seem to learn its force in their experience. They may be sincere believers. But they hang about Christ with doubts, and they do not know the forgiveness of sins or present peace. They keep asking Him to make them whole and hoping for pardon, when Christ says to them, You are forgiven: "Go."
- Touch — the power was in Christ, not in her faith or in His clothing; faith put her in contact with the One who had it all.
- Confession — He healed her in secret, but assurance came only after she said out loud what He had done.
- Daughter — He did not send her off as a debtor who took something; He named a relationship she had not dared claim.
- Word — He moved her certainty off her feelings and onto His spoken sentence, which holds when feelings fade.
- Peace — "Go" ends the hovering, and "in peace" is inward calm in place of guilt and fear, the same word He gave the forgiven woman in Luke 7:50.