There is an important Lesson I Learned When Jesus Asked, “Who Touched Me?” (Mark 5:30) and wish to share with you all my wonderful people.
He stopped for one trembling touch.
In a crowd full of noise, Jesus felt faith.
That wrecked me.
Mark 5:30 says, “And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that power had gone out of him, turned around in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched My clothes?’”
Think about that moment.
Bodies were pressing in from every side.
People were brushing against Him.
Shouting. Moving. Following.
But only one touch pulled virtue.
Only one touch carried desperation.
Only one touch said, “If I can just reach Him, I will be made whole.”
That’s the lesson that pierced my heart:
You can be near Jesus and still not touch Him by faith.
The crowd was around Him.
The woman reached for Him.
But the big difference is here.
Some people love the atmosphere of God but never surrender to the authority of God.
They know the language.
They know the songs.
They know when to raise their hands.
But here’s what we miss…
Jesus is not moved by casual contact.
He responds to believing dependence.
This woman was bleeding for twelve long years.
Weak. Ashamed. Isolated.
She was carrying pain nobody could fix.
And in one hidden moment, she touched the hem of Christ with more faith than the entire crowd pressing around Him.
That humbles me.
Because I’ve learned that ministry pressure is not the same as intimacy.
Church activity is not the same as faith.
Being surrounded by holy things is not the same as being healed by a holy Savior.
Jesus asked, “Who touched Me?” not because He lacked information, but because He wanted to pull her out of hiding.
He turns private miracles into public testimonies.
He calls trembling people forward, not to shame them, but to free them.
Not to expose them cruelly, but to name their faith tenderly.
And then He says, “Daughter…”
Don’t miss that word.
Before He spoke about healing, He spoke identity.
Before He addressed her condition, He addressed her belonging.
Now that is the Gospel.
We come bleeding.
We come unclean.
We come tired of pretending.
And Christ does not cast away the one who reaches for Him in faith.
He restores.
He names.
He heals.
He saves.
So here’s the question that stayed with me:
Am I merely brushing past Jesus in routine religion?
Or am I truly touching Him by faith?
Because one honest reach can change everything.
Brother, sister—bring Him your secret pain.
Bring Him the wound you’ve hidden under your smile.
Bring Him the shame, the addiction, the fear, the exhaustion.
Reach.
Not to religion.
To Jesus.
From scandal to grace — because Jesus rewrites everything.
If this spoke to your heart, save it for later and tag someone who needs the reminder that one touch of faith still matters. You're reading from your handsome friend John Petra!
