"Emily, why don't you share with the class some of the things her condition would entail."

"Oh, yeah, pick me," I smarted off before I could stop myself, but the prof just grinned. I fumbled for a second as I struggled to gather my thoughts. I had never really considered what this woman was going through. After all, we all know that proper Christians blow right by the uncomfortable section of the Bible and focus on the greater theological questions of the text. And this was long before my "scandalous" days, before I had learn to field all those embarrassing biological questions with a certain amount of finesse. 

The text in question was Mark 5:24-34, most commonly referred to as "The Woman With An Issue Of Blood. What a pretty and proper way to phrase it! Imagine if we called it what it is - "The Woman Who Had The Tsunami Of All Periods". Now that grabs your attention. 

Christians have a bad habit of never quite saying what they mean when it comes to issues of sex. We have this entire vocabulary that allows us to reference these unsettling bits of the Bible without actually saying the words. We say things like: "he knew his wife", "the way of women", "uncovered nakedness", "issues", "discharge", "violate", "immorality", "impure", or if you are daring, "sexual sin".

The problem is when we use all our proper little code words we do to things to the text:

1. We prevent those who did not get the secret Christian decoder ring from understanding what we are saying.

2. We are missing the full impact of what God has to say about our bodies and sex - both good and bad.

Look, I know that we use these terms out of respect. No one wants to be crude and vulgar when dealing with God and the Bible, but we need to ask ourselves some questions:

1. Did God ever sacrifice clarity for propriety?

2. Are we showing more concern for societal demands than what God has said in his Word?

If we consider that when the Bible was written, and recognize it was written in terms that the receiving culture would understand the answers to these questions become clear. God never flinched at our sexuality - even the *ugly* parts. Every time he speaks of sexuality, he is bold, blunt, and honest. So much so that even in the soften English translations it is hard not feel a bit squeamish about passages like Ezekiel 23 or Leviticus 15. And Song of Songs? Read that without imposing metaphor or allegory onto the text and you will find that it is flat out HOT!

But let's return to our original story, the woman who surfed the red tide for twelve years. 

Consider for a moment how changing the language we use to reference it changes our perspective. No longer is God removed from our condition as women. He is not snarling down at out bodies in disgust. Instead God, present with us in the person of Jesus, cares about our bodies. He cares about our periods and physical discomforts. He is not repulsed by our femininity or the evidence of our sex. Instead, he sees even this as reason to respond in compassion and with healing. 

How many women need to know this about our Lord? How many of our sisters need to experience healing in the area of their sexuality in physical, emotional, and spiritual levels? But how many feel that this part of who they are is too repugnant or shameful to bring to our Savior?

In many ways, we have been condemned to live our lives as this unnamed woman. According to law and convention, we are consigned to the role of social outcast, destined to suffer in silent acceptance if we wish to be deemed proper. 

However, I think she shares another truth. In verse 32, Mark says that she told him "the whole truth." How I wish we had a transcript of that conversation! Imagine what it must have been like for her to stand there, looking into Jesus' eyes, telling him about something that most of us have been taught keep hidden. Could today's Christian woman be so bold? So shameless? Or have we lost our ability to come to God with the whole truth in matters of sex?  I hope not, because I believe she is teaching us that if we dare to step in faith, fight our way through the crowds, risk being rebuked for our boldness, we can find that hem to grab hold of and in that moment gain the chance to hear him say, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."