I wish I could coin that phrase. It provided one of those "ah-ha" moments we all experience where we hear something and know we will not soon forget it. My friend, Liz, invited me to join a women's Bible study at her church- a four week study by Beth Moore called "Breaking Free". After having left the church before our study began because I convinced myself that I had more urgent things to get done this morning, I returned to the church full of conviction to find that in fact it wasn't Liz alone who wanted me there, but it was Christ himself calling me to return.
No, no, not return to Christ. I did not leave Christ. But I did leave the blatant truth that there is nothing in this world more urgent than our time spent with Him. Nothing.
My laundry can definitely wait.
I had heard the story of the woman being healed by just the touch of Jesus' tassels. I knew that her reach had to be more than just an attempt to be healed by the Savior, but until this morning I could not see the picture of what all that moment truly meant. She faught through the crowd. She desperately pushed her way to the King of Kings because she believed that she would be healed. And all it took was one touch. He was not far. He put himself in her path and believing He is mighty enough to heal her, she touched his tassels.
And I realized, I mean really realized, that the Lord's love and presence and healing power surrounds us. He has put himself in our path. His tassels graze our sites daily.
And I was left asking myself, how often do I touch them?
The worst part is that now I've been eyeing people all day. I look at someone and think Are they touching them? or Have they touched them before? Have they felt His healing power?
I've been sitting in a nursing home since 11:00 last night. I have watched the people living here be woken from their sleep every hour to have someone, 40 years younger, turn their light on and ask them if they've wet the bed. Each room I enter, I look at the pictures on the walls and sitting on their bookcases and I see younger faces. The rooms are filled with black and white photos showing families and friends and memories and yet the person laying in bed, trying to sleep, is alone. And I can't help but wonder, even towards the end, are they touching them? So close for some of them to be face to face with their Savior and yet He is already right there.
I pray that I will always see the tassels and be willing to fight through the crowd to touch them. That the closeness of my God will always be relevant and significant to me.
