Touching the Garment

 Now a certain woman had a flow of blood for twelve years, ²⁶ and had suffered many things from many physicians. She had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew worse. ²⁷ When she heard about Jesus, she came behind Him in the crowd and touched His garment. ²⁸ For she said, “If only I may touch His clothes, I shall be made well.”  Mark 5:25-28


If she could touch just the fringes of the Nazarean's robe, she knew she could be well again.  Faith,  determination and desperation.


This morning I was lacking in faith but was full of determination and desperation.  We were running late to church, dodging all manner of obstacles to get there.  This would not be the first Sunday morning that we've reluctantly shook our heads and decided that we weren't going to make it to services.  This morning it just had to be different because we were tired of the defeat.  


Living with autism has been exhausting to me lately.  This morning it felt as if I was without strength.  It would be easier to stay home.  I knew we were going to be a half an hour late, but I didn't care.   Today my strength and joy was sapped and the only way to revive it was to meet Him at the foot of the cross.  I was desperate today to touch the hem of His garment.  I need healing.  Not physical healing, but emotional and spiritual and mental healing.  I am exhausted.  I am frustrated.  I am grieving.  I am out of ideas.  Just get me in the building.  Just let me hear the music.  Let me see some familiar faces.  Let me hear from You.  Let me just touch the hem of Your garment.


David and I did get there and, as predicted, we were a half an hour late.  We had to sit in the balcony, and in order to get the last two seats together, people had to move over for us.  Embarrassing, but desperation has its price.  The sermon had already started and the familiar voice of our pastor, Britt Merrick, was a Balm of Gilead to my heart.  


We were in the building.  We were sitting down.  The buzz of the frenetic rush started to ebb away and my ears started to tune in the words I was hearing:  "Power belongs to God."  (Psalm 62:11)  "Be strong in the Lord and the power of His might."  (Ephesians 6:10)  


What did he say?  He said power belongs to God.  He said be strong in the Lord, not in your own insufficient strength.  It should not surprise me that when I confess what I am lacking that He is ready to tell me that He can provide it.  He went on to say, "Be strong in the Lord."  Thank you.  I needed to be reminded of that as well.  


I do not possess in my natural state the strength to raise an autistic child.  That power has to come from somewhere else.  I can research, I can attend workshops, I can go to support groups, I can take him off gluten, I can take him to the best autism therapists, but that is not where my strength comes from.  In order for me to even do those things I have to be plugged into a continual source of power or I will quickly burn out.


God met me there this morning, late, frazzled, depleted and bedraggled.  I had touched the fringes of His garment.  Two thousand years ago, a desperate, sick, exhausted woman pushed her way through the throng of people to touch the edge of Jesus' robe.  He was surrounded by men, women and children  pressing in on him and yet he turned to His disciples and said, "Who touched Me?"  The Mark 5 account says that the woman's faith had healed her and that Jesus, knowing that power had left Him, turned to inquire.  He knew who touched Him.  God doesn't ever ask questions because He doesn't know the answer.  He had to draw her out from the crowd.  With fear and trembling she came forward and "told Him the whole truth."  He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well.  Go in peace."


I am so glad we showed up late, because God is always on time.

It's Monday morning and there is a post script.  Last night I struggled to finish this blog entry.  It felt like something was yet to be said or that God had something left to show me.  I wasn't satisfied with it and decided to hold off on clicking the Publish button.


This morning Daniel woke up at 5:30, about two hours ahead of schedule.  And so it begins.  


"Mommy, watch Baby."  This is his name for The Very First Noel, an animated story of the nativity narrated by Andy Griffith.  We watch it every night.


"Daniel, it's dark out.  It's night-night time."


He was sitting up in bed perched on Blankie with his pillow on his lap, looking up at me with those big green eyes and messy hair:  "Watch Baby."


I wasn't going to win this one.  He was wide awake and ready to go.  Lord, I need to touch the garment again.   He padded down the hall dragging Blankie and clutching his pillow.  Coffee was brewed, Baby was on and Daniel was occupied for a few minutes.  I seized my opportunity.  


I opened my small leatherbound Daily Light to March 19th:  "Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might."  Ephesians 6:10.  


What???  Is this the right day?  Yes, March 19th.  March 19th is after March 18th.


The format of Daily Light is unlike any other devotional.  Each reading is a collection of subject-related verses read together as one page of text.  So today was not only Ephesians 6:10, but at least ten other verses all talking about strength and power.  In case there was any doubt in my mind, God made it quite clear that He had something to say to me about where my strength needs to come from.  I lament that I am so dense that He has to repeat Himself constantly.


I have been a Christian since 1991, and this is not the first time that God has repeated Himself to me through His Word, but each and every time He does so, in that moment I stand amazed and silent in awestruck wonder.  God forbid that I should ever stop being amazed that the Creator of the Universe is speaking to me personally.  He sees me.  He hears me.  He cares about what I care about.  He is not a higher power.  He is the Power.  


Selah.


"Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." (Exodus 3:5)


Save.  Publish.