“the whole story”… there’s a sense of freedom in that, isn’t there? I’m glad you focused on this part Staci. The idea of Jesus wanting to hear the details, the parts that I think are important and pertinent, the moments that stick to my brain, that’s powerful. That communicates love, kindness, tender involvement. It says “I love you,” without using those particular words.
The devotional was written on part of Mark 5, the story of the woman who suffered through 12 years of hemorrhaging, having visited medical “experts” who took her for every penny. This woman believed that if she could just touch the robe of Jesus, she’d be healed of this chronic condition which made her an outcast in her culture. After touching his robe, she could feel the bleeding dry up and she knew she was healed. But Jesus wanted to talk with her. Trembling, she told her story after which Jesus blessed and honored her. It’s a beautiful story of a faith-filled risk.
- What did Jesus’ face look like while the woman shared her whole story?
- What did it feel like for the woman to unburden herself from the shame of her 12 year bleeding issue and to actually tell her whole story?
- What did the woman do next? After 12 years of bleeding, of being “unclean” and an outcast in society, what was in the next chapter of her story?
Then I wonder…
- What prevents me from telling Jesus my whole story?
This is where I’m stuck today. I’ve felt such overwhelming stress in the last two weeks. It’s come out through unkindness, short-tempered flare ups at Hubs, and general high-strung up-tightness.
When I’ve read my Bible, it’s been to check it off my list or to catch up with the reading group. But now I’m challenged to pause and consider why I’m not sharing my whole story with Jesus: He’s here. He sees my immature outbursts, He knows my thoughts better than I do. Sometimes I use that reasoning as an excuse to not talk with Jesus.
But there’s something transformational to confession: confess, admit, bring to light, stop hiding. For years I’ve counseled students that when we confess our sin to Jesus, we are simply agreeing with God about our inability to live up to perfection and holiness on our own, and that confession highlights our need for a Savior. These are very good things.
Confession also gives me an opportunity to “own” my choices which are demonstrated in my attitude, behavior, and words (as well as the ongoing conversations in my head).
Saying “I’m sorry” acknowledges a wrong has taken place, but asking “Will you forgive me?” is a humble invitation to the injured or offended party to move towards you with mercy. That’s the powerful moment! That’s when relationship can be restored. “I’m sorry,” slaps a band-aid on a gaping wound. “Will you forgive me?” invites a spiritual healing.
Jesus, I’ve been worried and distracted by many things. I’m so sorry that in response to Your goodness, gifts and blessings I’ve been short-tempered, unkind, hurried, gruff, exacting and impatient with Hubs. I’ve ignored You, simply rushing through my day to check obligations off of my list. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me? Thank you for forgiving me. Your Word says you always will. Whisper in my ear “This is the way, walk in it,” when I veer off path. Remind me that You are with me for each step. Thank You for the sweet gifts you pour into my life. May my heart be renewed and restored today! I love you Jesus, and I need you. Amen!