Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Day 8: To Touch the Hem...

In the crowd pressing around Jesus,  there was a woman who had suffered continuous bleeding for 12 years, bleeding that made her ritually unclean and an outcast according to the purity laws.  She had suffered greatly; and although she spent all her money on her medical care, she had only gotten worse. She had heard of this Miracle-Man, Jesus, so she snuck up behind Him in the crowd and reached out her hand to touch His cloak.   Woman (to herself):  Even if all I touch are His clothes, I know I will be healed. 
As soon as her fingers brushed His cloak, the bleeding stopped. She could feel that she was whole again. Lots of people were pressed against Jesus at that moment, but He immediately felt her touch; He felt healing power flow out of Him. He stopped. Everyone stopped. He looked around. Jesus: Who just touched My robe? His disciples broke the uneasy silence. Disciples: Jesus, the crowd is so thick that everyone is touching You. Why do You ask, “Who touched Me?” But Jesus waited. His gaze swept across the crowd to see who had done it.  At last, the woman—knowing He was talking about her—pushed forward and dropped to her knees. She was shaking with fear and amazement. Woman: I touched You. Then she told Him the reason why. Jesus listened to her story. Jesus: Daughter, you are well because you dared to believe. Go in peace, and stay well. 
Mark 5: 24-34 (The Voice Translation)

I was circling round and round the kitchen island this morning, throwing sippy cups into bags and topping off my lukewarm coffee for the road, when I felt the little hands grabbing. Her chubby hands with the long fingers caught hold of my scrub pants right below my knee and clung tight to each pant leg, matching her short steps with mine. 

Momma Mooommmaaaa MOMMMAAA! 

Her baby voice grew more desperate and insistent with each clutched step following mine. She has one mission: to be with me. Her gaze is set, and with one swoop of love I raise her up to eye-level. 

"Hi, sweet Maddie Grace", I sing-song to her. She rests her head in the crook of my neck, and she is at peace. I'm reminded of the woman who had suffered for years until she searched him out in a crowd and reached for Him. She knew in her heart of hearts that this was her safe place, her hope for healing. She became whole again. She was well. And he told her to "stay well", as the Voice translation says. 

My daughter, only 17 months old, pointed me to Jesus and the need to seek Him out and hold on to the Hem of his glory. And in this moment of crawling humility, clutching with all our baby hands can summon, He scoops us up and calls us by our name. 

Peace to you as you continue your week! 

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