Sunday, September 18, 2011

The hem of His garment

"The Hem of His Garment," © 2004 by
If only I may touch His clothes, I shall be made well. - Mark 5:28 (NKJV)
For 12 long years she suffered. She tried every recourse available, but nothing worked. “She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet of instead of getting better, she grew worse” (Mark 5:26).
I wonder—Was she beyond desperation, past the point of caring? Had she surrendered to her illness, counting the days until it would finally siphon her last ounce of energy, her last breath? Only then she would have relief.
But then she heard something that stirred up a hope she thought long dead: Jesus of Nazareth was passing through—the man whose reputation as a miracle worker was spreading through the country like a wildfire through the withered wasteland: how He’d healed the leper and the man with the shriveled hand, how he’d driven thousands of demons from the crazy man that lived in Gadarene tombs. Why, word had it He'd even calmed a storm at sea with only a few words! Surely He could help her.
She knew she wasn’t allowed in public in her condition, but maybe, just maybe . . . She wrapped her mantle around her face and stepped out the door.
When she saw the crowds swarming around Him, she despaired. She didn’t have a chance. But something in her emboldened her to push through the throng. She was almost to Him when she heard Jairus’s voice: “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so she will be healed and live.”
She knew the little girl—she was only 12. And here she was, way past her prime. Better to let Him go to the girl and not take the time to bother with an old woman. Besides, Jairus was one of the higher ups in the local synagogue, and who was she? A nobody. She turned to leave, but the swarming crowd pushed her closer to Jesus—close enough to touch Him. Hope flared.
If I just touch His clothes . . .  
She reached out. Her fingertips brushed the hem of His garment. Suddenly she felt whole. Healthy. Strong. Healed.
Jesus stopped abruptly and looked around. “Who touched Me?”
In the midst of a jostling crowd, He knew. Terror seized her. Would He be angry? Would her illness return?
Trembling, she fell at His feet and confessed. Love, not condemnation, poured from His eyes.
“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”
Later she heard that He’d brought Jairus’s daughter back from the dead.
Sometimes I wish that Jesus still walked this earth so I, too, can reach out and touch the hem of His garment.  And then I remember—He does: “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20)—and I can: “Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3).      
In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. (Ps. 5:3). Amen.
Feeling God doesn’t care about you? Read Psalm 139.

Special-Tea: Read Mark 5:25-34

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