passage i've been munching on

And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.” And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’” And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." (Mark 5:24-34 ESV)

Your faith has made you well.
Those are some of the most beautiful words I've ever heard.
No skill. No beauty. No success.
Just faith.
That is literally the only thing we have to offer. Ever. Just faith.
And faith is what God uses to make us well, to heal us and cleanse us, because He is full of grace for broken people who half-heartedly attempt to surrender segments of their lives to Him.
Can we just freak out about that right now?

I always trip up on words like "faith," because they're big and vague and overused and they lose their meaning quickly in church conversations. The thing is, it's really not that complicated. Faith is an empty cup. Faith is saying, "I trust you to fill me, heal me, because I have nothing." That's it.
My faith, my empty-cup-ness, is the foundation for how I want to approach God. I'm so bad at it.
God, my heart, my big confusing heart, my future and career, my family, my community of friends, the hours in my day, God, it is all emptiness to be filled with You and not me.

My other favorite part of this passage is how the woman approaches Jesus. Fear. Trembling. Falling before Him. Telling Him the whole truth. If Jesus came to Grove City and was chilling out in the SAC healing people, how would I approach Him?
Would I fall before Him and tell Him everything?
Or would I just be embarrassed about the crowd around me and what they were thinking of me and my gross diseases?
How much empty-cup-ness would I have to confidently touch the edge of his jacket and know that He had the power to fill me completely with everything I needed?
How much do I believe in who Jesus is?
How desperate do I allow myself to be every day?
Hard questions. I need to keep asking them.