Reach Out to Touch

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If only I may touch his clothes, I shall be made well. (Mark 5:28)

Remember this woman? With the “issue of blood”? (Side note: Ew. Bless her poor, little heart.) Interesting story, this one.

There’s a lot that could be said against this poor lady. For one thing, she really shouldn’t have been in the crowd at all that day; this sickness of hers made her ceremonially unclean. If she was a good law-abiding Jew, she would have been quarantining at home. Shame on her. Also, the idea that touching Jesus’ robe would do anything for her smacks of superstition . . . like trying to get healed by touching the severed forearm of St. Jude (which you can apparently visit in Illinois – there’s another “ew” . . .). How ridiculous. Even SHE thought she’d done something wrong. When Jesus stops and asked who touched him, she confesses with “fear and trembling”.

If you’re looking to knock the woman, there’s plenty to knock – and there are plenty who spend their time looking to knock people who don’t play the game their way. There are rules, here, people. Standards. Traditions. There’s a way that this is done and reasons we do it that way.

But BLESS, y’all . . . she’s trying to touch Jesus! Intentionally reaching out for a purposeful encounter, even if she’s trying to stay anonymous while doing it.

I wonder a bit about the response of some of the other folks in the crowd there when they figured out what just happened. “You mean, she just touched his clothes and got healed? Seriously? Well, dang! I bumped up against him a ways back – what’d I get? Am I healed now, too?”

Thing is, bumping up against him doesn’t quite count it seems. I mean, yes, give them credit for being there at all, I suppose. Many years ago, I heard some sage advice that if you are looking for Jesus, you should probably go to the places he’s most likely to be. His house, for one.

But you know, I spent a lot of my growing-up years in God’s house (that is, in the church building), and I bumped up against Jesus many a time without coming away healed. During a worship service. In Sunday School class. At Vacation Bible School. In the singles' Bible study. Singing in the church choir. At home reading a Christian book. In the car listening to KLOVE.

I’ve spent more hours than I can count in Jesus’ proximity. If proximity heals you, I should have been set for life.

Going to church is important. I’m not knocking that, friends. But let’s all try to remember that sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car. Church and all the other churchy things we do have value, but they may or may not bring you to Jesus.

We don’t get to know him accidentally. It needs to be an act of the will . . . an intentional reaching out . . . an act of faith and hope. If only I may touch him . . .

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