Crowds. There are always these crowds around you, masses of messy people pressing in, jostling and yelling and straining - how can I be anything but lost among them?
I am drained dry, empty and ostracized. My body has been bleeding for a full dozen years and no one, not one person, has helped me. I've paid all the fees and sought all man's wisdom and it has left me hunched over here, still bleeding, still unclean and unable to come into the temple courts to worship as I long to. But there's something about you, man in the middle of the clamoring crowds and messy masses, there's something about you that gives me hope. So here and now I will push through, I will go low, I'll crawl my way to you if it means I can touch but the hem of your cloak - I don't know what I expected, but the powerful love that just moved through me was a stronger and kinder embrace than I have ever felt in all of my days. Your voice cuts through my awe, "Who touched me?" I did, my Savior, I did, my King. You stop and meet me in the middle of this swirling crowd and hear my whole story. You ignore your disciples anxious looks, they think you are needed more elsewhere and urgently, but you stop all the way to see and hear me. And then you say to me, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” I will, my Lord, I will. I will go in peace and in awe of your love for me. Comments are closed.
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AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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