The Woman with the Issue of Blood: Faith, Healing, and God’s Love – Mark 5:25-34

There’s a woman in Mark chapter 5 who’d been bleeding for twelve years, and she was about to do something that could get her killed.

She was going to push through a crowd, break every religious law about purity and touching, and reach for Jesus. She was desperate. She was broke. She was out of options. And she was done hiding.

I want you to think about the phrase “faith that touches” as we work through her story today. Not faith that just believes from a distance. Not faith that stays safely in the shadows. But faith that reaches out, even when everything in your world tells you to stay hidden.

Some of you are carrying something you’ve never told anyone about. A struggle that’s dragged on for years. Shame that won’t let you go. You’ve tried everything, spent everything, and you’re wondering if Jesus would actually stop for someone like you.

If that’s you, this story is yours.

Jesus has just returned from casting out demons. The crowd is pressing in from every side. And right in the middle of all that chaos, we’re going to meet a woman who’s been forgotten by everyone except God—a woman whose desperate faith is about to change everything.

Let’s turn to Mark chapter 5, starting at verse 25.

What Does “Issue of Blood” Actually Mean?

Before we read the passage, let’s be clear about what we’re talking about here.

When we say “issue of blood,” we’re talking about chronic hemorrhaging—continuous, uncontrolled bleeding that wouldn’t stop. The medical term is chronic menorrhagia, but that’s just fancy language for what this woman would have called a nightmare.

In our modern world, we’d send her to specialists immediately. We’d run tests. We’d try different treatments until something worked. And honestly? We’d be uncomfortable talking about it in polite company because we still carry some of those old taboos about women’s bodies and blood.

But in first-century Israel, this wasn’t just a medical problem—it was a social death sentence.

Here were this woman’s three options for dealing with her condition:

Option 1: Accept your fate and disappear. Just vanish from public life. Stop going to synagogue. Stop having friends. Stop participating in family gatherings. Become invisible. That’s what most women in her situation probably did.

Option 2: Keep seeking human solutions while staying in the shadows. Keep trying doctors, keep spending money, keep hoping someone will fix you—but never break the rules, never risk making yourself known, never step outside the boundaries society has drawn around you.

Option 3: Risk everything to touch Jesus. Break every social convention. Violate the purity laws publicly. Make yourself unclean and make everyone you touch unclean. Face potential public humiliation or worse. But get to Jesus.

Options 1 and 2 keep you safe but leave you sick. Option 3 might get you healed, but it could also get you stoned.

This woman chose Option 3.

Desperate Faith Creates Courage to Break the Rules

Let’s turn to Mark 5, starting at verse 25. After these things—after Jesus has just shown His power over demons and death itself—we read this:

“And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.’ And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.” (Mark 5:25-29, ESV)

Let’s break down what’s actually happening here. This woman has been bleeding for twelve years. That’s not twelve months. That’s 144 months. That’s roughly 4,380 days of waking up with the same problem, the same shame, the same isolation.

Mark tells us three devastating facts about her journey: She suffered under many physicians. She spent all her money trying to get well. And despite all that suffering and expense, she got worse, not better.

Luke, who was a physician himself, adds this detail in his Gospel account: the physicians “could not heal her” (Luke 8:43). Luke’s being gentle about his colleagues, but the truth is stark—human medicine had failed her completely. She was out of options and out of money.

But here’s what breaks my heart and fills me with hope at the same time: Leviticus 15:25-27 said that anyone with her condition was ceremonially unclean. She couldn’t go to the temple. She couldn’t touch anyone. And anyone she did touch became unclean too.

For twelve years, this woman couldn’t hug her family. Couldn’t shake hands. Couldn’t participate in worship. Couldn’t even be in a crowd like the one she’s pushing through right now.

What she’s doing in this moment—pressing through a crowd, deliberately touching people to get to Jesus—is illegal according to the Law. She’s making everyone she brushes against ceremonially unclean. If someone recognized her, they could call her out publicly. They could stone her for this.

But she’s so desperate, she doesn’t care anymore.

Like this woman, many of us have exhausted our human options. You’ve tried therapy, medication, self-help books, different churches, new routines, better habits—and you’re still stuck.

You’ve spent money you didn’t have trying to fix what’s broken. And nobody sees it because you’ve learned to hide it so well that even your closest friends don’t know how bad it really is.

Have you ever noticed how isolation feeds on itself? The longer you hide, the harder it becomes to reach out. This woman had been hiding for twelve years. Twelve years of practiced invisibility. Twelve years of ducking out of conversations when someone mentioned the temple. Twelve years of avoiding eye contact. And now she’s deliberately putting herself in the most crowded, most public space imaginable.

God says to us in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” And in Psalm 34:18, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

These aren’t just nice verses for needlepoint—they’re lifelines for desperate people.

This doesn’t mean God wants you to stay sick or broken. It doesn’t mean suffering is somehow noble. What it means is that desperation can become the doorway to encounter. Your weakness isn’t disqualifying you from God’s presence—it might be the very thing that gives you courage to reach for Him.

Here’s what we learn from this first movement:

• Real faith often looks like breaking the “rules” everyone else is following
• Desperation can be a gift if it drives us toward Jesus instead of away from Him
• Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is make your need visible

Amen

Jesus Restores Our Dignity by Calling Us Out of Hiding

Now watch what Jesus does. This is where the story gets really interesting:

“And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my garments?’ And his disciples said to him, ‘You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, “Who touched me?”‘ And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth.” (Mark 5:30-33, ESV)

Okay, let’s pause here because this is fascinating. Jesus knows someone touched Him. Not just bumped into Him in the crowd—dozens of people are doing that—but touched Him in faith. He felt power go out. Healing happened. And now He stops everything to find out who did it.

The disciples think He’s lost His mind. “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?'” Translation: “Jesus, everyone’s touching You. What are You talking about?”

But Jesus knows the difference between the touch of curiosity and the touch of faith. He knows the difference between accidental contact and desperate reaching. And He’s not going to let this woman slip away anonymously healed but still ashamed.

Here’s what we miss if we don’t understand the culture: This woman has just been healed, which is amazing. But she’s still the unclean woman who broke the Law. She’s still the rule-breaker who made everyone in that crowd ceremonially defiled. She got what she needed, and now she’s trying to disappear back into the crowd before anyone notices.

But Jesus won’t let her hide.

She comes forward “in fear and trembling”—Mark doesn’t sugarcoat this. She’s terrified. She falls at His feet and tells Him “the whole truth.” That’s code for “She told Him about the bleeding, the shame, the twelve years, the poverty, the isolation—everything.”

And everyone is listening.

Like this woman, many of us prefer private miracles. We want Jesus to fix us quietly, without anyone knowing we were broken. We want the healing without the testimony. We want the breakthrough without the vulnerability. We’d rather sneak away blessed than stand up publicly transformed.

Talk about uncomfortable! I can barely stand talking about my struggles with a close friend, let alone announcing my deepest shame to a crowd of strangers. But Jesus knows something we forget: you can’t be fully healed in secret. Shame dies when it’s exposed to the light.

My wife and I went through a season where ministry was crushing us, and I wanted to hide it from everyone. I smiled on Sundays and pretended everything was fine. But one of our elders pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry this alone.” And when I finally told the truth about how hard it was, something broke inside me—the shame lost its power. The burden got lighter. That’s what Jesus is doing for this woman.

We see this pattern throughout Scripture. In John 9, Jesus heals a blind man and then makes sure everyone knows about it—it becomes a public controversy. In Acts 3, Peter heals a lame beggar at the temple gate where everyone can see. God isn’t interested in keeping His work secret. He wants your story told because your freedom might be someone else’s hope.

Jesus also says in John 8:32:

“You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Notice it’s the known truth that frees us, not the hidden truth. And James 5:16 tells us:

“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.”

Now, this doesn’t mean you have to broadcast your struggles on social media or tell your whole story to people who haven’t earned your trust. But it does mean that complete hiddenness keeps you in prison. You need at least a few people who know the real you—the struggling you, the broken you, the “I don’t have it all together” you.

Here’s what makes this hard: Jesus doesn’t restore your dignity by letting you stay hidden. He restores your dignity by calling you out and calling you beloved in front of everyone.

Three key takeaways from this point:

• Jesus doesn’t do anonymous healings—He wants you seen, known, and restored publicly
• Your shame loses its power when it’s brought into the light of Christ’s presence
• The testimony you’re afraid to share might be the very thing someone else needs to hear

Amen

Faith Makes Us Whole—Not Just Healed, But Restored

Now we get to the most tender moment in the entire story:

“And he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.'” (Mark 5:34, ESV)

Oh, this wrecks me every time I read it.

First, notice what Jesus calls her: “Daughter.” This is the only time in all four Gospels where Jesus uses this term to address someone directly. Not “woman,” which would be respectful but distant. Not her name, which we don’t even know. But “daughter.”

Do you understand what He’s doing? For twelve years, this woman has been untouchable. No father could embrace her. No family could claim her. She was legally unclean, which meant she was socially dead. And Jesus, in front of everyone, brings her back into the family. He gives her an identity. He says, “You belong. You’re Mine. You’re not an outcast anymore—you’re a daughter.”

After these things—after twelve years of being treated as less than human—someone finally looks at her and calls her family.

Second, notice what Jesus attributes her healing to: “Your faith has made you well.” Not “I healed you,” even though He did. Not “you got lucky,” even though the power came from Him. He gives her agency. He honors her courage. He says, “Your desperate, rule-breaking, shame-defying faith is what brought you to Me, and that faith has made you whole.”

Third, notice the two commands He gives her: “Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” The healing already happened—she felt it in her body. But now Jesus speaks peace over her. The physical healing is complete; now the emotional and spiritual healing can begin. She can go back into society. She can go back to the temple. She can hug her family. She can live.

Like this woman, many of us settle for partial healing. We want the symptoms gone, but we don’t want to deal with the deeper issues. We want the physical fix without the emotional restoration. We want the miracle without the transformation. But Jesus doesn’t just patch you up and send you away—He makes you whole.

Look at what Jesus does throughout the Gospels. In Luke 17, He heals ten lepers, but only one comes back to thank Him, and Jesus says, “Your faith has made you well” (v. 19)—using the same word He uses here, which means “saved” or “made whole,” not just physically healed. In Luke 7, Jesus forgives a sinful woman and says, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (v. 50)—the same phrase He uses for the woman with the issue of blood.

Romans 8:1 declares, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

2 Corinthians 5:17 promises, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

This doesn’t mean life becomes easy after you touch Jesus. This woman still had to go home and rebuild relationships. She still had to learn how to function in society again after twelve years of isolation. She still had to process the trauma of what she’d been through. But now she could do it as someone who belonged, someone who was clean, someone who had been seen by Jesus and called “daughter.”

Here’s the truth: Faith that touches Jesus doesn’t just fix symptoms—it restores identity. You’re not just healed; you’re made whole. You’re not just better; you’re beloved.

Three truths to hold onto from this final point:

• Jesus gives you not just healing, but an identity—you’re His daughter or son
• True wholeness includes physical, emotional, and spiritual restoration
• Faith that brings you to Jesus transforms you from outcast to family member

Amen

What This Story Teaches Us About Faith, Healing, and God’s Love

Let’s bring this home. The woman with the issue of blood teaches us something profound about how God meets us in our darkest, most desperate moments—and how faith can transform not just our circumstances, but our entire identity.

Here’s what her story reveals:

This woman shows us that God sees the suffering we hide from everyone else. For twelve years, she carried a burden no one fully understood—the physical pain, the financial devastation, the soul-crushing isolation.

Maybe you’re carrying something similar right now. A health issue that won’t resolve. Depression that’s lasted so long you’ve stopped talking about it. Shame from your past that follows you everywhere. Financial stress that keeps you awake at night. A broken relationship you can’t seem to fix.

God sees it all. He knows the weight you carry, even when you’ve gotten good at hiding it from everyone else.

Faith doesn’t mean waiting until you feel strong enough—it means reaching out when you’re at your weakest.

This woman didn’t approach Jesus when she had it all together. She came to Him broke, bleeding, ceremonially unclean, and breaking the rules. She came in desperation. And Jesus honored that faith.

If you’re waiting to get your life sorted before you come to God, you’ve misunderstood the gospel. Your weakness isn’t disqualifying you—it’s your invitation. Come as you are. Reach for Him in the mess.

God’s healing isn’t just about fixing what’s broken—it’s about restoring who you are.

Jesus didn’t just stop the bleeding and send her away. He called her “daughter.” He spoke peace over her life. He gave her back her dignity, her place in the community, her identity. Whatever depression, shame, or brokenness you’re walking through, God doesn’t just want to make you “functional.” He wants to make you whole. He wants to restore your joy, your hope, your sense of belonging. He wants you to know you’re His beloved child, not just a problem He solved.

The same Jesus who stopped for her will stop for you.

In the middle of a pressing crowd, with important people waiting, Jesus felt her touch and refused to let her slip away anonymously healed but still ashamed. He stops for the desperate. He stops for the broken. He stops for the ones everyone else overlooks. You’re not bothering Him. You’re not too small for His attention. You’re not too broken for His love. He will stop for you.

Here’s what you can do this week:

Start by being honest with God about where you really are. Stop praying polite prayers and start praying desperate ones: “Jesus, I’m struggling. I’m tired. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I need You.” Get specific about what’s really hurting.

Then, let at least one safe person into your struggle. Not the whole world—just one trusted friend, family member, or mentor who can pray with you and walk beside you. Shame thrives in secrecy. It loses its power when you share your burden with someone who loves you.

Stop waiting to feel worthy before you reach for Jesus. This woman wasn’t worthy by anyone’s standards—she was ritually unclean and breaking the Law. But she came anyway, and Jesus called her “daughter.” Your mess doesn’t disqualify you from God’s love. It’s actually your invitation to experience His grace.

If you’re battling depression or despair, remember: your darkness doesn’t surprise God, and it doesn’t change His love for you. Reach for Him even when you can’t feel Him. Keep praying even when the words feel empty. Keep showing up even when you’re just going through the motions. Faith isn’t about feeling strong—it’s about touching Jesus when you’re at the end of yourself.

And finally, believe that healing is possible. Maybe not instant. Maybe not the way you expect. But the same Jesus who restored this woman’s life can restore yours. He can lift depression. He can heal shame. He can mend what’s broken. He can give you peace in the middle of circumstances that haven’t changed yet. He specializes in making people whole.

The Heart of the Gospel

This is what the gospel looks like in real life: Jesus doesn’t stand at a distance demanding you clean yourself up before you approach Him. He stands in the middle of the chaos, and when you reach out in desperate faith—unqualified, unworthy, and broken—He stops everything to restore you. Not just to fix your problem, but to call you His own. To give you a new identity. To speak peace over your life.

Whatever you’ve been hiding, whatever’s been draining the life out of you for months or years, whatever shame or depression or brokenness you’re carrying—bring it to Jesus. Reach for Him in faith. Let Him call you out of the shadows and into the light. Let Him speak over you: “Daughter. Son. Beloved. Mine. Your faith has made you whole. Go in peace.”

That’s not just what happened to a woman two thousand years ago. That’s what Jesus wants to do for you today. He’s waiting for your touch. He’s ready to restore you. He’s calling you “daughter,” “son,” “beloved.”

Will you reach for Him?

Amen.

Further Reading:

Zabriskie, M. P. (2022, October 2). Faith like a mustard seed [Sermon]. Christ Church Greenwich. https://www.christchurchgreenwich.org/sermons/faith-like-a-mustard-seed

Storms, S. (2017, October 24). A theology of faith & healing. In The beginner’s guide to spiritual gifts. Grace Church SW. https://gracechurchsw.com/blog/2017/10/24/a-theology-of-faith-healing