Jesus in Morocco

This summer I studied abroad in Spain studying Spanish. I decided to go to Morocco for the weekend and convinced a bunch of my friends to come along. It was easily the craziest trip of my life. I planned a random weekend trip to Chefchaoeun, which is a little town three aways away from the coast of Morocco by car. We had to catch 5 buses and 3 trains, a ferry, and a taxi, to get to our final spot. If we missed any of them, we would miss our last bus and not make it to our hostel. 

We made it to everything. It was insane. I have no idea how it all worked out. We finally made it to our ferry, went and sat down, and fell asleep immediately. I woke up two hours later and realized we were still at the port. Our ferry hadn’t moved. It was delayed two hours. Long story short, we missed our final bus to get to Chefchaouen. We were stuck at a random port in Morocco. 

Having no clue what to do, I walked outside the port to find myself face to face with about 15 big guys, taxi drivers, waiting for business. When they saw my 7 friends and I, they started punching each other and fighting to try to get us into their car for business. I tried to talk to them and tell them how far we’d come, if there was another bus, if there was a hotel nearby, but none of them spoke English. They just stared blankly at me and responded quickly in Arabic. Stress crying and not sure what to do, I tried to talk to the people at the port, who also only spoke Arabic. Right on the verge of me and 7 other Americans having a group meltdown at this port in Africa, this man walks up to us and says “Cómo estás? Estás bien?” HE SPOKE SPANISH! I ran over to him and just broke down, telling him my entire story about how we had made all of our buses, and our ferry was late, and we missed our bus, and I had no idea how to get to Chefchaouen up on a mountain three hours away. He sat patiently and listened while I spilled out the entire day’s events to him. Then he told me that it was ok, he could drive us in a taxi to where we needed to go. We finally made it to Chefchaouen, thanks to this one guy who just listened to a frantic 20 year old rattle off details in very broken Spanish.

How often have you wished someone would just listen? To hear you out, to be able to tell your crazy story, maybe your crazy day, or terrible week, or maybe just sit with you in all the details of your life and just listen, love you, and accept you as you are?

I know that this is something I’ve longed for. I want to tell you another story in Mark 5 in the Bible. 

Mark 5:21-34 says this:

“And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly, saying, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.” And he went with him. 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.”

Recap: this woman had been bleeding for 12 years. She was considered unclean, lived alone, with no friends and no family. She was rejected by everyone she knew, everyone she trusted. Her last hope was Jesus. 

Put yourself in her shoes for a second. I bet she was terrified. Jesus was literally the last option of healing. She had no money, no connections, and was slowly dying a painful death. I bet she was so afraid that Jesus would reject and mock her like everyone else, or at least be way too busy. How often have you felt that people were way too busy for you?

And Jesus was busy! He was on his way to heal a little girl who was dying. He had a ton of pressure on him too! Her dad was this important official in the city who had a lot of power.

But yet, he stopped. He stopped and listened to her entire story. Her whole life, spilled out at his feet. How long do you think that took? Thirty minutes? An hour? How long would it take for you to tell your story… your life, your emotions, your heartbreak and rejections, your joys and favorite days… it would take a while.

But Jesus stopped his busy schedule, and listened to the entire story of an unwanted, unloved, bleeding and dying woman. 

Jesus is ready to listen to your story. He even tells us to “cast all your burdens on him, because he cares for you.” Jesus is a friend who wants to hear your story, your hardships, your struggles. If he didn’t reject an outcast, unclean, friendless woman, he wouldn’t reject you. He loves you with an unfailing love, a steadfast love. He is a God who wants to listen to your whole story. He’s not going to love you any less just because you’ve done bad things or been rejected or feel alone. He loves you because he loves you, just as you are.

Jesus is here. He’s closer than the air you breathe. He hasn’t abandoned you. Just like I’ve seen Jesus in Morocco, I’ve seen Jesus in Athens, Italy, and all over the world. He loves you. Trust in Him.