The Person with the Issue
Not long ago, I was at church, quietly walking around when someone stopped me.
They looked at my walking boot and said,
"Wow, you still aren't healed, huh? How long has it been? Are you sure you're seeking God?"
The words pierced deeper than they knew.
A week before that, I was at another event and someone else said,
"Aww, you still have the boot, I see. When are you taking it off?"
I know at least one of them probably meant well.
But sometimes, when you’ve been carrying something for a long time, it feels like people stop seeing you.
They just see the issue.
The injury.
The delay.
The thing that hasn’t healed yet.
And if you’re not careful, you can start seeing yourself that way too.
You can start feeling like the person with the issue.
Not by your name.
Not by who you really are.
And that’s a hard, lonely place to be.
There’s a woman in Scripture we often call “the woman with the issue of blood.”
We don’t know her name.
We only know her by her issue.
For twelve years, she bled.
Twelve years of pain, isolation, and shame.
In her culture, bleeding made her “unclean.” It meant she had to stay away from others. It meant people likely avoided her, talked about her, and blamed her. It meant her affliction wasn't just physical—it touched every part of her life, including how she saw herself.
Imagine carrying something for so long that people stop seeing you and only see your issue.
Imagine beginning to forget your own name under the weight of what you're going through.
And yet—
When she heard that Jesus was passing through, she did something courageous.
Instead of hiding away like society expected, she pushed through the crowd.
She reached out, desperate and daring, and touched the hem of His garment.
Immediately, she was healed.
And just as important—Jesus turned to her. He didn’t call her “unclean.” He didn’t call her “the woman with the issue.”
He called her Daughter.
The only person in the Bible He ever called that.
Daughter.
Beloved.
Seen.
Whole.
He didn’t just heal her body.
He restored her identity.
This story has been heavy on my heart because sometimes when we suffer, especially for a long time, it can start to feel like our struggles define us.
Sometimes, people around us—even in the Church—start to define us by our pain too.
Maybe they say it’s your fault. Maybe they accuse you of being cursed, disobedient, or faithless.
Maybe they pull away, uncomfortable with your brokenness.
It’s easy to start believing them.
It's easy to start losing yourself.
I know this because I’ve lived it. Multiples times.
My current situation is for almost two years, I’ve dealt with a physical injury that has dramatically altered my life.
It has caused so many complications, affected me financially, mentally, socially, etc.
And honestly? The hardest part hasn’t been the pain—it’s been the comments.
It’s been the sideways glances, the whispers that maybe I have unforgiveness in my heart.
Maybe I angered God.
Maybe I deserve it.
Those words? They can dig deep.
They can make you question who you are.
They can make you feel like the bleeding woman, hidden behind her shame, convinced she’ll always be known by her issue.
But here's what the woman in the Bible shows us—and what I’m learning too:
Your issue does not define you.
Your struggle does not disqualify you.
Your identity is not wrapped up in your pain, your diagnosis, your delays, your disappointments, or even other people’s opinions.
You are a daughter.
You are a son.
You belong to the King.
And no matter how long you've been bleeding, God still sees you.
He is not ashamed of you.
He’s not blaming you.
He’s not punishing you.
He calls you His.
If you're in a long-suffering season right now—
Please know it’s okay to set boundaries.
It’s okay to guard your heart.
It’s okay to be selective about whose voices you allow close.
Ask yourself: Is what they’re saying aligned with God's heart for me?
If not, let it go.
Hold fast to what God says.
Hold fast to who He says you are.
And even if it feels like everything is falling apart—
Even if you can't see the end yet—
Remember: if you still have breath, your story is not over.
God is still moving.
God is still speaking.
God is still teaching you.
God is still protecting you.
God is still providing for you.
God is still loving you.
No season is wasted.
No suffering is unseen.
No identity is lost when it's rooted in Him.
The world may only see your issue.
But God sees His daughter.
God sees His son.
And in His eyes, you are always more than what you are going through.
Tips for Walking through a Long Suffering Season
Here are a few things that are helping me—and I hope they help you too:
🔹 1. Anchor Your Identity in Christ, Not Your Circumstances.
Remind yourself daily: I am a daughter. I am a son. I am loved. I am chosen.
Your suffering doesn't define you—God does.
🔹 2. Set Healthy Boundaries Around Who Speaks Into Your Life.
Not everyone gets access to your heart in this season.
If someone's words don't reflect God's heart for you, it's okay to lovingly create distance.
🔹 3. Consider the Source.
Ask yourself: Is this person hearing from God or speaking from their own fear, ignorance, or discomfort?
Don't internalize voices that aren't rooted in truth.
🔹 4. Give Yourself Permission to Grieve.
Long-suffering can bring real grief—grief over lost time, lost opportunities, misunderstandings, or isolation.
It's okay to mourn those things and bring your real emotions to God.
🔹 5. Look for Evidence of God's Presence in Small Ways.
Even if the healing, breakthrough, or resolution hasn’t come yet, God is still moving.
Notice the small provisions, the unexpected encouragement, the moments of grace.
🔹 6. Speak Life Over Yourself.
Counter every discouraging comment with a declaration of truth:
"I am not forgotten. I am not cursed. I am not abandoned. God is for me."
🔹 7. Stay Rooted in Hope—Even When It Hurts.
Hope can feel risky when the wait is long.
But hope in God is never wasted.
He is faithful, even when we can't see it yet.
Remember,
You are not your issue.
You are not your delay.
You are not your suffering.
You are His.
