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Written by Carolina Pérez, volunteer with Iron Rose Sister Ministries in New York
Many knew her. She was not a famous woman who was on television, in newspapers or magazines. She didn’t sign autographs, nor drive luxurious cars, but her service in the community where she lived benefited many and they knew very well who she was. She was recognized anywhere she went. Men and women spoke well of her, rich and poor sought her out. One day, she died, quite suddenly, but even her death favored the people around her. How absurd, right? But it’s true.
Yes, this is the story of a humble woman named Tabitha, better known as Dorcas. This woman was, without doubt, one of the most well-known women for giving a class or women’s conference on the topic of service. Almost everyone, at one time or another, had heard of her. You might be thinking, I already know this story! However, let’s see if we can discover together a little more about her.
Acts 9:36-42 narrates this unusual story. (Later, you will know why it seems unusual and you may agree with me.) As an interesting fact, her name means gazelle. We note at the beginning of the story that “she was always doing good and helping the poor” (v. 36). This helps us understand that these were not sporadic or occasional acts for Dorcas, but rather it was her way of life. It was a common thing in her day-to-day life; it was a part of her. Surely, she alluded to her name since a gazelle is agile and quick. She served others with promptness and without giving it a second thought.
She had a good reputation in her city and was a woman known in society because she helped anyone that needed economic or physical help—she sought the good of others. We don’t know her economic status, but everything she did, she did from the heart. We don’t have any information about how she came to hear the gospel and accept Jesus as her Savior. However, we can see that she that she was a woman of faith. That may seem like a hasty conclusion, but this is what we see through her works. In James 2:14-17, we can see that the evidence of our faith is our works; they cannot be disconnected. Dorcas possibly understood this concept perfectly and didn’t hesitate to put it into practice.
The Scriptures say that this woman fell ill one day and passed suddenly. What generally happened in that time was the body was prepared for burial immediately because decomposition of a cadaver doesn’t wait, especially in a warm climate. But what the people that were with her did in that moment is an untold part of the story: They washed her body and they put her in a room. They knew that the apostle Peter was in the nearby city of Lydda. They called him because they were sure that he could do something. They were all saddened by Dorcas’ death, which is normal when someone who has done so much for the community loses his or her life. What comes next is the resignation and acceptance of the loss of the beloved person. To the contrary, the people that loved her, hoped for a miracle, one like those they had heard of when they heard the gospel.
They sent two men urgently to search for Peter, and after telling him what happened, they begged him to come without delay to see her. When they arrived, there were many people crying and lamenting the loss. And here we can highlight the beautiful ministry this woman had. Verse 39 says, “Peter went with them, and when he arrived he was taken upstairs to the room. All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them.”
In those days, the widows were one of the social groups with least privilege; if they didn’t have children or family nearby, they were completely helpless. Yet we can see that they were not unseen by this disciple. She gave them clothes and possibly even taught them about sewing that they might, in that way, have a source of income and avoid begging in the streets, which is what often happened.
So, the apostle, upon seeing the scene, had compassion on them and, asking everyone to leave the room, prayed to God asking for the miracle that the people hoped for. The Heavenly Father responded positively to their request and, in accordance with His will, raised Tabitha. Thanks to what happened, “many people believed in the Lord” (v. 42). Who would say that even in her death, this woman was going to serve? Doesn’t this seem unusual and even a little crazy that her death has been used as an instrument for the salvation of others? This is how God works in hopeless situations, in the most mysterious ways, all for His glory.
This woman’s work was so noticeable that her story is registered in the pages of the Bible so that we can tell it and learn from her today.
What impact have you had in the place where you are—be that your home, your neighbors, your work, your school, etc.? Are you serving with love? When you pass, what legacy will you leave? How will you be remembered?
May the Lord help us to be true servants to His glory.
#IronRoseSister #HIStories #service #Tabitha #Dorcas #servefromtheheart #guestwriter #blog
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Written by Michelle J. Goff, Director and Founder of Iron Rose Sister Ministries
For twelve years I have been visiting doctors, healers, anyone who thought they could help. There isn’t a treatment I haven’t tried. I’ve changed my diet. I’ve tried herbal remedies, essential oils. Nothing has worked.
For twelve years I have been bleeding.
You know how you feel when you’re on the worst day of your period? Depleted, cramping, cranky, no energy, angry at Eve, no appetite, or eating everything in sight? I’ve felt that way for the past twelve years with no reprieve.
Women in menopause—you’ve got nothing on me. Not to minimize anyone else’s pain, but I am at a loss and the isolation and rejection are worst of all.
You see, I’m a Jew. And blood is an unclean thing. For the first few months, I didn’t go anywhere because I would make others unclean. When I finally gathered the courage and energy to get out of the house, it almost made things worse.
I was forced to yell “unclean,” wherever I went so that no one accidentally touched me and became unclean as well. Literally like hanging your dirty laundry out for all to see.
And a very lonely existence. No physical contact for twelve years—not a hug, a gentle touch, or warm embrace. I feel unloved, forgotten, and broken.
It may be uncomfortable to talk about, but the events of this past week have inspired me to shout from the mountain tops, and it’s nothing about the word, “unclean.”
A Teacher with great healing power was in town. And while it took everything in me to find hope for healing, I had heard so many wonderful things about this man of God that I cried out to God and ventured to take a risk one more time.
Crowds surrounded the Teacher and pressed up against Him so closely that I knew there was no way I could get close to Him. His disciples stayed nearby and would’ve risked their own uncleanliness before I approached the Rabbi.
But I had no choice. My final hope of healing was with that man. If only I could touch the hem of His garment… So, I covered my face and defied the Jewish rules. In a strange combination of terror of discovery and hope of healing, under cover of my cloak, I weaved my way through the crowd.
Finally, I had reached the Teacher and my fingers were able to graze the edge of his garment. Immediately, relief flooded me. Breath returned to my lungs. Life was restored to my body. I was healed!
However, my relief was short-lived and my breath became a frozen gasp as the Teacher spoke out. “Who touched my clothes?”
His disciples tried to convince Him that it was the crowd pressing around Him, but when He persisted, my greatest fear was realized. Rebuke, rejection, isolation, and a reversal of His healing were imminent. I was sure of it.
Yet this Teacher was like none other. As I trembled at His feet, completely unveiled, confessed my actions, and shared my story, His eyes were filled, not with condemnation, but rather with compassion… love, acceptance, and sympathy.
My own tears of fear transformed into tears of deep, heart-felt gratitude for the tremendous gift I had been given. Yes, I was grateful for the physical healing of my bleeding. Still more powerful than the physical healing though was the emotional healing. For the first time in twelve years, I was welcomed back into the family. I was brought back into the community. I was redeemed.
“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”
Yes, the Teacher, Jesus Christ Messiah, had called me “Daughter.”
For the full story, read Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8.
P.S. I later learned that it was the shedding of His redeeming blood that made us all clean—He offered everyone the opportunity to be welcomed back into His family. I invite you to also let him call you “Daughter.”
#IronRoseSister #HIStories #healing #daughterofGod #emotionalhealth #womanwithissueofblood #MichelleJGoff #blog