LOVED: why acceptance isn’t enough

This post is part of a series exploring the deeper needs of the human heart: to be seen, known, loved, and belong.

One of the most vulnerable things I have ever done is tell my then girlfriend (now wife) that I loved her. I was terrified. Carissa and I had so many conversations when we were talking and into dating about relationships, and based on her history, she was self-protective. At one point, she told me “unless you’re ready to marry me, you shouldn’t tell me you love me.”

Well, when I wanted to tell her that I loved her, I wasn't ready to propose. We had been together for a few months, and I knew that I loved her. So I took a calculated risk and told her. I don’t know what I said, I just know that all I thought about in that moment was “Will she say it back?”

Looking back, I am so thankful for that risk. Because over 9 years into marriage, love looks very different. Carissa knows me better than anyone ever has. She has seen my worst. She has walked with me through really hard things. She knows my weaknesses and chooses to stay.

We don’t just want to be seen and known. We want to be loved.

Love is a word too often thrown around. I mean, we love pizza and we love our moms. Those things are not the same, but we use the same word, so clarity is needed.

We often confuse love with attention.
With affirmation.
With approval.
With being wanted only when we are easy to want.

But real love goes deeper.

To be loved is to know you are safe.
To be loved is to know you matter.
To be loved is to know your value is not conditional.
To be loved is to be seen, known, and still chosen.

Because we all want to be chosen, we chase love in all kinds of ways.

We people-please.
We become who others want us to be.
We hide the parts of ourselves we fear might cost us connection.
We try to earn what we most deeply want to receive freely.

Because once we are seen and known, we are faced with a deeper question:

Now that you really know me… will you stay?

In Mark 5, we meet a woman asking this very question. The Bible does not tell us her name. We are simply told that she “had been subject to bleeding for twelve years.”

Twelve years. For twelve years, she lived with pain. Twelve years of disappointment. Twelve years without relief. Mark 5:26 further describes this,

She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse.

But her suffering wasn’t only physical.

According to the Jewish law of her time, her condition would have also made her ceremonially unclean. Which means this woman likely wasn’t just living with pain, but she was also living in isolation.

Twelve years of carrying not only suffering, but separation.
Twelve years of wondering if her condition made her unwanted.
Twelve years of feeling, in many ways, untouchable.

And yet, when she hears Jesus is coming near, she takes a risk.

Mark 5:27-28 says,

She came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.”

This is such a small act. There’s no huge profession. No public display of devotion.

Just a touch of his cloak.

But when you’ve spent twelve years feeling isolated, ashamed, and hopeless, even reaching out can feel terrifying.

Mark 5:29 records the miracle that happened next:

Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.

In a moment, she was healed. But what happens next will change her life just as much as the healing.

Jesus stops. In the middle of the crowd, He realizes what happened. In the midst of noise and on his way to heal someone “important,” he turns and asks a simple question:

“Who touched my clothes?”

He knows what happened. He knows she has been healed. So why stop?

Because this woman needed more than just healing.

She needs to know that she is seen.

She needs to know that she is known.

She needs to know that she is loved.

Terrified, she comes forward and tells Jesus everything. Maybe she expects judgement and shame. But what she receives is so much more. Mark 5:34,

He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

Daughter. In that moment, everything changes.

She is the only person in the Gospels that Jesus explicitly addresses this way. And with this simple word, He doesn’t just heal her condition. He restores her dignity.

She is wanted.
She is valued.
She is safe.
She is loved.

This is what Jesus does. He moves toward the marginalized. He is not afraid of our brokenness. He is not disgusted by our suffering. He doesn’t run away once He really knows us.

He stops. He restores. He stays.

And maybe that’s what makes this story so powerful:

She reaches for healing, but Jesus gives her more than that.

He gives her love.

The same is true for us.

We all carry fears.
We all carry shame.
We all carry the quiet question:

Now that I am seen and known, will you stay?

With Jesus, the answer is always yes.

Because in Christ, we are not merely tolerated. We are not loved only when we are easy to love.

We are fully seen.
Fully known.
Fully loved.

What would it look like to actually live like this is true?

To stop exhausting ourselves trying to earn love that has already been freely offered in Christ?

We spend so much of our lives chasing approval, wondering if it is genuine. We live wondering maybe if we do enough, achieve enough, or become enough, we will finally be loved.

Mark 5 reminds us that the love we most deeply need cannot be earned. This love is only received.

We don’t just want to be seen.
We don’t just want to be known.
We want to be loved.

And in Christ, we already are.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you.

Philip