Jesus Sees: Mothering Through Chronic Illness
I remember it all quite clearly—three months pregnant with my first child, sitting with the doctor talking about options. I had been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called ulcerative colitis eight years prior, but now I was pregnant, and the disease was flaring.
Thankfully, when my son was born, we both were healthy. Except now I faced a new challenge—parenting with colitis.
My disease flared again when my son was a toddler. I had never before been sick with someone so very dependent upon me. A colitis flare includes (not to be too specific) a lot of time in the bathroom (and needing to get there quickly), fatigue, pain, cramping, and the mental stress of feeling ill.
This time, it also included mom guilt.
Some days, I struggled to do anything more than just keep everyone alive and meet the most basic needs—sustenance and diaper changes. Running to the bathroom often, I wasn't able to discipline as consistently around certain behaviors or attitudes that needed correcting. My kids watched more television than I wanted during seasons of their childhood when I was ill. I couldn't put a home-cooked dinner on the table many nights. Mom guilt ran rampant.
Statistics tell us that one in five Americans has an autoimmune disease like me (one of the most common types of chronic illness). 75% of those are women.[1] Still more struggle with pains and illnesses that don’t fit neatly into a diagnosis. Many of us are mothers. We need to know that Jesus sees our struggles. That we aren't alone. We need his grace to strengthen us each day.
Desperate for Help
I often think of how Jesus sees and so tenderly cares for the bleeding woman whose story we can read in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke.[2] She has been suffering for twelve years, bleeding unceasingly—which by Jewish law means she is “unclean.” She is an outcast from society. She shouldn't be anywhere near this crowd, let alone pushing through to touch Jesus, a Jewish rabbi.
Yet, she is so very desperate for help, for healing. She has spent all her money and countless hours trying different treatments to cure her bleeding, all of which have only made things worse. Then she hears that this rabbi—this man who was teaching the people in new and powerful ways—was also healing people.
So she follows the crowd. She takes the risk of being found out. This brave woman musters the courage and reaches out to touch the edge of Jesus’s robe. Immediately, she feels something in her body. She knows she’s been healed!
The Savior Who Stops
At this point, even though he felt his power respond to her touch, Jesus could just keep walking. He could quietly look back and smile, leaving her to her new life of being “clean” and all the restoration that includes. But he doesn't.
Jesus stops and looks for her. He asks for her. He knows that, even more than physical healing, what this woman needs is to be looked in the eyes and cherished. She needs Jesus to pronounce her beautifully “clean” and forgiven. She needs to be called his “daughter.” She needs to be seen—really and truly seen.
And isn’t this our longing too? Chronic illness often leaves us mamas in the shadows, in the dark—feeling like we aren't able to do what others can. Like we aren't enough for our kids or our husbands. Like we have to hide the sickly parts of ourselves that are “unclean” to society.
Jesus doesn't condemn the bleeding woman, however, for her brokenness—even though her touch made him ceremonially “unclean” as well. Instead, he gives her exactly what she needs to walk from their encounter not just physically stronger but stronger in her spirit.
The God Who Sees
We really shouldn't be surprised by Jesus’ reaction to this woman, however flabbergasted the onlookers in the crowd were. In the Old Testament, God frequently reminds his people that he sees them—that he is near those who are struggling. We read, for example, of Hagar—alone, pregnant, despised, and without a future until she meets the Lord, whom she calls El-roi: “the one who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). Or Hezekiah, king of Judah, crying out for help on his deathbed and receiving God’s response: “I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears” (2 Kings 20:5). The Psalms, too, are full of reminders of God’s care and attention: “He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).
We do not follow a God who looks away from our imperfections, physically or otherwise. He doesn't put us on the sidelines because we can’t do what all the other moms are doing. He doesn’t leave us weighed down with guilt about having bodies that are broken.
Instead, like the bleeding woman, we have a God who purposefully looks for us—even when we’d rather hide in shame or fear. We have a God who asks us to trust him—both to tend to our bodies and our spirits. We have a God who invites us to take refuge in him on hard days,[3] when flares are upon us and mom guilt runs circles in our minds. He promises perfect peace as we focus our thoughts on him,[4] committing to him our disease and our healing, our kids and our mothering. He is more than able to fill in the gaps left by chronic illness, as flares come our way and take up our time and energy.
A Greater Healing
Whether we receive physical healing or learn to rely day by day on God’s sustaining hand through our illness,[5] we all—with the bleeding woman—can cling to the greater healing of salvation through Jesus. He has set his eyes on us and nothing will make him look away. Neither sickness, distress, or shame can keep us apart from his love—now or in years to come.[6]
So, let’s look to Jesus, who is himself looking for us. Let’s listen to the words of peace, strength, and grace he speaks over us in the gospel. Jesus sees us, sisters—and he loves what he sees.
[1] autoimmune.org
[2] Matthew 9:20-22; Mark 5:25-34; Luke 8:43-48
[3] Nahum 1:7
[4] Isaiah 26:3-4
[5] Psalm 41:3
[6] Romans 8:35-39
