And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: For my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)
Every morning I open Bible. I canít help but read at least a verse from books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes because I need wisdom for each day. Then I would plunge deeply into studying my Bible. Thirty minutes to an hour later, I would close my Holy book, pray and face day.
But one morning was exceptional. I woke up with a heavy heart and a migraine headache. I knew cause of my infirmities. I had believed God for a job for past five years, but a day before, I lost out at another interview. So I felt hopeless and empty. The strength to hang on ran dry and I was weak to core.
Relaxing for a while, I picked up my Bible. I opened it like it was some coffee-table book. My troubled eyes fell on Mark chapter five. I scanned through to verse twenty-five to thirty-five. It was story of woman with issue of blood. Though I did not know reason, but I read account story six times that remarkable morning.
This is a story Iíve heard all my life from my age eight when attending Sunday school classes. I knew her story so well like my last name; I knew it like number of blouses in my small closet. It was a miraculous story of faith more than that of a mustard seed.
I remembered in University campus fellowship, we gave her story a name, ď The garmentís faithĒ. I personally had preached garmentís faith to believers and unbelievers more than a hundred times but after reading it six times, God wanted me reading it again.
ďWhat do you want to tell me in this?Ē I questioned God.
ď Read it again, my daughterĒ still voice responded, ignoring my question.
ď God! Read what again? Iíve read this story all my life and Iíve got her kind of faith.Ē I yelled out loud. But still voice was adamant and I was left with a choice, to read it again. Then, as I went through it, something dawned on me. Something Iíve never thought of hit me hard.
The woman was strong, rich and healthy. Perhaps people envied her for her success. Perhaps she had taught people a hundred times how to remain healthy and rich. But one day she was ready for her monthly menstrual period just like every other woman. After three to five days, flow never stopped. She became worried, saw a gynaecologist, got some medications and was told not to worry, but it persisted. Her worries led to fear as she tried other doctors, still no changes. She tried whatever people suggested and they were as diverse as they were costly until she spent all her lot. Before her very eyes, everything she had acquired completely disappeared.
Twelve years later, her expensive linen and satin turned ragged sackcloth with patches. Her strong physique turned a weary bone bag. She was nothing but a walking corpse. She was so frail with no strength to stand on her legs. Then her families and friends abandoned her, throwing once celebrated woman to a corner, outside city, where lepers live.