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‘Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.’
Mar_5:34
I. The touch of faith.—She touched the Saviour’s hem, and ‘immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up.’ What she had sought for twelve long years from the world’s physicians and sought in vain, she got by a single touch of Jesus. How quickly He can heal the soul! We go to Him in our poverty and sin, in our sorrow and trial, and oh, what a Saviour we find Him! We get by a single touch of Him what the world could never give. How hollow are all the world’s physicians when viewed in His light! How fully every want of the soul is met! What a mighty power there is in a touch, a word, a look from Him! One look brought a backsliding apostle home to the fold. One word dried the tears of a weeping Magdalene, and filled her desolate heart with deep songs of joy. One touch of His clothes dried up the fountain of disease in this helpless cripple, and sent her to her home rejoicing.
II. Need supplied.—What had she got from Jesus? Just as much as she needed. No more. For this cause He came into our world—to meet man’s need. He is the same to this hour. What do you get from the Saviour now? Just what you need. There are no dealings now between the Saviour and His people beyond this. Every approach to Him is founded on this. Every answer to prayer is according to this measure. Every blessing we receive corresponds with the need that it meets.
III. Life’s one aim.—Christian, seek to feel more deeply your need of the Saviour. Nothing brings you so close to Him as these hidden needs. These tell us something of what a Saviour He is. These are the channels through which His virtue flows. It is Him you want to meet every need. In the solitude or the throng, in the routine of daily duty or the calmness of the closet, in sickness or in health, in sorrow or in joy, in living or in dying, let your heart be filled with one desire, one thought, one aim—to touch Jesus.
—
Rev. F. Whitfield.
Illustration‘One of the best illustrations of this text is to be found in the last great picture of Doré, called “The Vale of Tears.” The paint was wet on the canvas when he died, for he only finished it three days before. In the background is a shadowy valley with a barren, rocky crag on one side. At the entrance to the valley stands the Saviour, clothed with a long white garment. He has a cross on one side, and His other hand is raised, the forefinger uplifted, as if inviting the broken heart to come to Him for healing. Nearest to Him are the poorest of the poor, the despised and rejected of men. Every single form of human suffering may be seen in that “Vale of Tears,” from the king to the beggar. The king, in royal robes and a crown on his brow, turns a wan and weary face to Christ. By his side is the prisoner with heavy chains on his wrists; his face, too, is towards the Saviour Who can set the captive free. Here is a wealthy mother, but on her lap lies a dead child, and in her deep anguish she turns to Christ for comfort; there a dying mother, lying on the ground, holds her infant in the direction of the Saviour, as if committing it to His care. There are strangers from every clime, the Indian and the Negro, while on a lonely rock, under a blasted tree, stands the leper. Many are the suffering and the sorrowful in that dark valley, but all look to Christ, and Christ alone, for rest. The old enemy, the serpent, is seen crawling away, scared by the light of Christ and His cross. Beyond all, at the Saviour’s right hand, is the narrow way, where everlasting spring abides. It leads to the Beautiful Land to which the Saviour beckons all weary souls. I looked on that picture till my eyes filled with tears, and I praise God that His Christ is still able to heal and bless and save—that He is living and not dead—the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.’