Have you ever hit bottom? Have you ever come to the end of your rope, feeling like you just don't know how to go on anymore?

"Hitting bottom" is an expression that came into widespread use mainly through the twelve-step program, Alcoholics Anonymous. As founder Bill W. put together this recovery program back in the mid 1930's, he realized that along the slippery slope of addiction men and women must hit bottom in order to come to terms with the disease that is wrecking their lives. For some hitting bottom can mean waking up to the fact that their addiction is compromising the quality of their work and relationships; for others it may not occur not until they've actually lost everything: their health, home and loved ones; and for others still, the realization may never come at all, even in the face of death. No matter where it may be, "the bottom" is a place of loneliness and despair where one wakes up and says, "I can't go on like this. Something has got to change." As described by Jerome Levin in the excellent book, Recovery from Alcoholism,

Figuratively, the bottom is a state of despair…In its literal meaning, hitting bottom is falling on your [face]. Falling so far and so hard that the jolt breaches your denial and lets a little reality peak through…Bottom means the realization that drinking just won't do it for you anymore…and you don't know what will. In many ways, we see a woman who has hit bottom in our Gospel reading this morning. Here we find someone at the end of her rope, broken down by the realization she can't keep going on the way she has for the past twelve years.

While she's not an alcoholic, the end results of her disease are similar: her life has fallen apart; she's run out of financial resources; she's alienated from her community and the culture at large. In this passage we meet someone who's hit bottom, someone's who is looking for help and healing.

And what happens? What does she discover? Quite miraculously she finds what she is looking for. As we heard from the apostle Luke just a moment ago, by reaching out in her desperate state this lonely woman is offered not only a cure for her physical ailment but also recognition in a time of isolation and pain. "Daughter," Jesus says to her, "your faith has made you well; go in peace," and with those words she's reunited not only with her health but also with her community. Reverently touching the fringe of those clothes she comes into contact with the merciful and reconciling nature of God. As in the words of Blaise Pascal, she experiences the truth that Christ is, "A God to whom we can approach without pride, and before whom we may abase ourselves without despair."

It's almost too good to be true, isn't it? Listening to this story from the perspective of the twenty-first century it's tempting to hear it as simply ancient folklore, aimed at providing faith for only the simple minded and immature. Some of us might be wondering what this passage has got to say to someone lying in a bed suffering from infections caused by anthrax or cancer or AIDS. What kind of meaning does it have for the families living with the devastating loss of loved ones in Boston, New York, Kandahar or Kabul?

I believe the biblical message in front of us this morning is a powerful one in the face of such devastation and despair. Not only is it one that gives witness to the healing powers of Christ – powers that were reported with amazing consistency in our Scriptures and other ancient writings — but it also tells us how we are invited to receive the healing Spirit of God in this very age. Surrounded by the consequences of terrorism and war, not to mention the ongoing struggles that fill our more individual lives, this story serves as a vital reminder that God is here among us, offering hope, forgiveness and healing. While such miraculous acts may not be occurring as dramatically and instantaneously as in the account before us today, these verses give witness to the fact that we are continually encouraged to seek the transforming grace of God. In many ways these words lay out the very basic path for Christian conversion and discipleship.

For example, look at the way this account reminds us how we need to hit bottom in order to fully open ourselves to the power of God's presence. Rather than suggesting we continue to live proudly as self-sufficient and self-centered individuals this story leads us to recognize our need for God's grace as a foundational step in letting that grace enter and change our lives. It persuades us to realize we need more than anything else to rely on God. No matter how we've done our best to cope with the pressures we face it dares us to stop dead in our tracks and declare, "I can't do it myself anymore." With those words we confess our sin, admitting that we thought we could heal ourselves with some action, attitude or addiction other than God. Hitting bottom: it's a clear testament to the words of Scottish theologian James Denney: "The kingdom of God is not for the well meaning but for the desperate."

Making our confession, then, we are free to cry out for a Savior. What an image we get in both our readings today, first with the Psalmist's cry for help and then with the woman's frantic grasp for the clothes of Christ. Following the path of Christian discipleship this story shows us how we're taught to reach for God, to not be afraid of crying out for guidance and strength. "Lord, help me!" are the words we heard in the Psalm. "Lord, listen to me!" Coupled with the vision of that bleeding woman working her way through the crowds these readings show us that we can work our way to Christ also. Whether it's people holding us back, or more secular perspectives keeping us down, we're shown with these words that we can set our sights on Christ and move toward that healing power. With humility and determination we're inspired to move past any obstacles so that we can get to the truth and love of God. And how does Jesus respond? What does he do when he feels that desperate touch? He turns around to identify the one seeking his help. His miraculous and Godly powers already released, Christ asks the simple question, "Who touched me?" showing us with those words and the encounter that unfolds that this is a God who wants to know us in our time of need.

This encounter is a powerful example of the reconciling nature of Christ's ministry. Notice, after all, that Jesus didn't have to see this woman before she is healed. Notice that he didn't take that healing back once he recognized that her gender and ailment made her ritually unclean and culturally outcast. By the standards of ancient society this woman is someone who was forced into hiding, a sad reality that makes her coming to Christ even more compelling. "Who touched me?" Jesus knew it was a trembling and broken soul who needed to be healed on so many levels. Calling her daughter and recognizing the depth of her faith he restores not only her health but also her place in the human family.

Seeking help and finding healing. Like the interaction between this lone woman and Jesus in the crowd we are taught today that in the midst of despair we can reach out for the healing presence of God. We are assured that even in our most private and broken places God wants to know and help us. Through the reconciling nature of this presence we are led into fuller community as the church body, sharing with one another our joys and our sorrows, our need for help and healing through programs like our Pastoral Care ministry and the new bulletin board for community concerns and celebrations. In these weeks of national and global pain we are invited to come into close community together to live with the saints of all history, seeking God's blessing for this age. Hitting bottom in these broken times we can find our greatest hope right here with God. Listen to the way Thomas Merton describes it: Hope then is a gift…total, unexpected, incomprehensible, undeserved…but to meet it, we have to descend into nothingness. It is the acceptance of life in the midst of death, not because we have courage, or light, or wisdom to accept, but because by some miracle the God of life Himself accepts to live, in us, at the very moment when we descend into death.

Finding ourselves surrounded by the pain of human trauma we needn't try to disappear – not into the numbing comfort of something like the bottle or amidst the ruthless anonymity of the crowd. We don't have to lose ourselves through alienation or despair. Rather, we learn from the faithful daring of this woman in pain that we are called to hit bottom, to reach out for grace and to return to wholeness and the human family. This story gives us a timely reminder that we don't have to be alone in moments of desperation. Isn't that what we need right now? Isn't this such an important part of the healing we seek from God?

Let us pray.
Eternal and Merciful God, you know the ways we shut you out, pin you in, make you powerless in our lives. Yet you also know how much we need you. Help us to let you in so that your power can heal and transform us. Help us to hit bottom so we can be raised anew, through Christ, whose resurrection leads us to you this day.

Amen.

Scripture Readings
Psalm 130: 1-7
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord,
who could stand?
But there is forgiveness with you, so that you may be revered.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in [God's] word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord more than
those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
and with [God] there is great power to redeem.

Luke 8: 40-56

As he went, the crowds pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years; and though she had spent all she had on physicians, no one could cure her. She came up behind him and touched the fringes of his clothes, and immediately her hemorrhage stopped. "Then Jesus asked, "Who touched me?" When all denied it, Peter said, "Master, the crowds surround you and pressing on you." But Jesus said, "Someone touched me; for I noted that power had gone out from me." When the woman saw that she could not remain hidden, she came trebling; and falling down before him, she declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."