Desperate but Determined — The Woman with the Issue of Blood

Her Struggle

In Jewish law, her condition made her ceremonially unclean (Leviticus 15:25–27). That meant isolation. Anyone she touched would also be considered unclean. Anything she sat on became unclean.

For twelve years, she lived marked.

No casual hugs.
No gathering comfortably in crowds.
No temple worship without shame.

Imagine the loneliness. Imagine watching life continue around you while you remain stuck in a body that won’t cooperate. Imagine the whispered conversations when you walk by.

She had suffered physically. But she had also suffered socially, spiritually, emotionally.

And then there is the financial strain. She had spent everything. Every doctor visit. Every remedy. Every ounce of hope.

Some of us understand this kind of exhaustion.

The diagnosis that lingers.
The anxiety that won’t quiet.
The marriage that feels strained.
The prodigal child.
The bills that keep stacking up.
The silent grief no one sees.

Twelve years is a long time to hurt.

And yet — she did not give up.

Silent Suffering

What moves me most about this woman is how quietly she endured.

We do not see her demanding attention. We do not see her bitterness recorded. We simply see a woman who kept searching.

Some of the deepest pain women carry today is silent.

The postpartum depression you don’t talk about.
The private insecurity.
The infertility struggle.
The secret addiction.
The resentment you feel ashamed to admit.
The chronic illness that drains you but looks invisible.

We learn to function. We learn to smile. We show up for church, for work, for family. But inside, we are tired.

This woman was tired.

And then she heard about Jesus.

Faith in Long Seasons

Verse 27 says, “When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak,”

Notice something: she did not wait until her faith was perfect. She did not wait until her circumstances improved. She did not wait until she felt worthy.

She simply heard.

Faith often begins there. Hearing.

After twelve years of disappointment, she still believed something could be different. That is remarkable faith.

Long seasons can either harden us or humble us.

She chose humility. She chose hope.

“Because she thought, 'If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.;'” (Mark 5:28)

This is not loud faith. It is not polished. It is desperate.

But desperate faith still counts.

Maybe you have been praying for years and nothing seems to shift. Maybe you feel forgotten. Maybe you feel like your issue has become part of your identity.

Sister, long seasons do not mean absent Savior.

He was already walking in her direction before she reached for Him.

Pressing Through the Crowd

Mark tells us there was a great multitude around Jesus. It was crowded. Chaotic. Loud.

And she pressed through anyway.

This detail matters.

She was considered unclean. She had no right to be in that crowd. By law, she should not have been brushing against people.

But desperation overrode fear.

Sometimes pressing through looks like praying again when you feel numb.
Sometimes it looks like showing up to church when you feel ashamed.
Sometimes it looks like making the counseling appointment.
Sometimes it looks like opening your Bible when you feel nothing.

There will always be a crowd.

The crowd of doubt.
The crowd of distractions.
The crowd of other voices.
The crowd of your own insecurity.

But she pressed through.

She did not need the stage. She did not need recognition. She believed even a touch of His garment would be enough.

And immediately, the bleeding stopped.

Immediately.

Twelve years of suffering interrupted in one moment of contact.

Jesus Stops

But the story does not end there.

Jesus felt power go out from Him. He stopped and asked, “Who touched My clothes?” (Mark 5:30)

The disciples were confused. Everyone was touching Him. But this touch was different. It was intentional. It was believing.

She came forward “in fear and trembling” and told Him the whole truth.

Can you imagine that moment?

The crowd. The exposure. The vulnerability.

After years of hiding, she speaks.

And Jesus does something beautiful.

He does not call her “woman.”
He does not rebuke her.
He does not shame her.

He says, “Daughter.”

This is the only time in the Gospels Jesus directly calls a woman “daughter.”

In a culture where she had been labeled unclean, He gives her family language.

Daughter.

He restores more than her body. He restores her dignity.

“He said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.'” (Mark 5:34)

Peace. Not just healing. Peace.

For twelve years she had been defined by her issue. In one encounter, she is redefined by relationship.

Daughter.

Restored Dignity

So many women today feel labeled.

Divorced.
Infertile.
Depressed.
Anxious.
Addict.
Single.
Overweight.
Too much.
Not enough.

But Jesus speaks identity over us that no diagnosis or disappointment can erase.

Daughter.

He sees the silent tears.
He sees the drained bank account.
He sees the fragile marriage.
He sees the weary caretaker.
He sees the woman who keeps serving while secretly hurting.

And He is not repelled.

He is not disgusted.

He is moved.

This story reminds us that faith is not about volume. It is about direction. She directed her desperation toward Jesus.

That changed everything.

Choosing to Reach Anyway

Maybe your issue has not left yet.

Maybe you have touched the hem and you are still waiting.

The truth is this: not every healing is instant. But every reach matters.

Faith in long seasons is choosing to believe that Jesus is still worth pressing toward, even when the crowd feels thick and the outcome uncertain.

Her story tells us that your struggle does not disqualify you from His presence.

It qualifies you to seek Him.

Desperate does not mean defeated.

Desperate can mean determined.

Determined to press.
Determined to believe.
Determined to reach for Jesus anyway.

And when you do, He does not overlook you in the crowd.

He stops.

He sees.

He speaks.

He restores.