For eighteen years, I measured my life in inches—how many inches closer to the ground my spine curved each day, how many inches I had to crane my neck just to catch a glimpse of someone’s face. But on that Sabbath morning, Jesus measured me differently—not by my limitations, but by my lineage as Abraham’s daughter.

Let me tell you what really happened that day.

Learning to Be Invisible

I was in that synagogue like every Sabbath, sitting in my usual spot in the back. You know how it is—when you can’t stand up straight, you learn to make yourself small in other ways too. I’d gotten pretty good at being invisible. Eighteen years of practice will do that to you.

But Jesus? He saw me. And not just the bent-over, broken version of me that everyone else saw. He called me forward—forward!—to the center of the synagogue where everyone could see. My heart was pounding as I shuffled toward him, still looking at the floor because that’s all I could look at.

Then he said those words that changed everything: “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” And he laid his hands on me.

What True Spiritual Freedom Really Means

We are part of the Jewish tradition where freedom means everything to us. We always remember when our ancestors were slaves in Egypt and when God freed them. Freedom isn’t just physical healing for us—it’s a real freeing from everything that keeps us bent over in life. Freedom to be. Freedom to live. Freedom that only God can give.

Let me tell you, standing up straight for the first time in eighteen years is like seeing the sky after living in a basement. Suddenly I could see faces—actual faces!—without craning my neck. I could see the ceiling of the synagogue, the light coming through the windows, the expressions on people’s faces.

And you know what I did? I started praising God. Right there, right then, I couldn’t help myself.

But apparently, that was a problem.

When Religious Rules Become Barriers to Grace

The synagogue leader—bless his rule-following heart—was having what my great-nieces would call a “moment.” He started lecturing the crowd about proper Sabbath protocol. “There are six days for work and healing,” he announced. “Come back tomorrow if you need a miracle.”

I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, sir, but did you just tell me to schedule my liberation for Monday through Friday, 9 to 5? Does God’s grace have office hours now?”

Religious places can either liberate and free people for something new and life-giving, or they can be places that keep us bent over by rigid expectations. Heaven forbid something should happen outside their precise little box!

But Jesus had something to say about that. He looked right at that leader and said, “You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you untie your ox or donkey and lead it out to give it water on the sabbath? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?”

Reclaiming Your Identity as God’s Beloved

A daughter of Abraham. Did you catch that? Not “the bent-over woman.” Not “the crippled lady in the back.” A daughter of Abraham. He gave me back my name, my identity, my place in God’s family tree.

The synagogue leader was so worried about following the rules that he missed the whole point of the Sabbath. The Sabbath isn’t about what you can’t do—it’s about remembering who you are. It’s about rest, restoration, and liberation. It’s about God saying, “You are more than your work, more than your productivity, more than what’s broken about you.”

Finding Hope When Life Keeps You Bent Over

I think about all the people I’ve met since that day who are still bent over—not necessarily physically, but bent over by shame, by debt, by depression, by systems that tell them they’re not good enough. I see kids carrying backpacks that feel heavier than they should because they’re filled with worry about fitting in and being enough.

And I want to tell them what Jesus told me: You are set free. You are a beloved child of God. You are more than your test scores, more than your mistakes, more than whatever tries to keep you bent over.

I see teachers heading back to classrooms with invisible burdens—underfunded schools, impossible expectations, the weight of caring for everyone else’s children. I want them to hear it too: Your worth isn’t measured by test results or evaluations.

Recognizing the Bent-Over Posture in Our Communities

Right here in congregations, I see people bent over by grief—carrying losses that feel too heavy for one person to bear. I recognize that shuffle, that way of moving through the world when your heart is broken. I see church members bent over by health scares, by family conflicts, by that nagging fear that whispers “you’re not doing enough.”

I see some of you bent over by the simple exhaustion of trying to hold it all together, putting on that Sunday morning smile when inside you’re barely holding on.

Listen to me—Jesus sees you too. He’s calling you forward from whatever back row you’ve been hiding in. You are daughters and sons of Abraham, even on your hardest days, even when you can’t stand up straight, even when you think you’re invisible. Especially then.

The Transformation That Changes Everything

When I finally walked out of that synagogue—walked, not shuffled—I realized something profound. For eighteen years, I had been looking down, seeing only the ground, the dust, the feet of people passing by. But when Jesus set me free, when I could finally stand tall, I saw the whole world differently. I saw possibility. I saw hope. I saw that God had been there all along.

Here’s what I learned: Sometimes we need someone to call us forward, to see us as daughters and sons of Abraham when we can only see ourselves as broken. Sometimes we need someone to remind us that there’s no wrong day for liberation, no wrong time for healing, no wrong moment for standing tall.

Standing Tall in God’s Limitless Love

So as we face whatever tries to keep us bent over this week, remember this: You are seen. You are known. You are set free to stand tall.

Because when we stand up straight—really straight—we don’t just see the ceiling. We see the sky. We see possibility. We see a God who measures us not by our limitations, but by our limitless belovedness.

Stand tall, daughters and sons of Abraham. The Sabbath is made for liberation—and that includes you.