Just a Touch

We were sitting in the Chapel of my hometown church in Princeton, Kentucky. The casket of a community legend focused our attentions. She was a teacher in a small town. There is not a life here that is left untouched by her 90+ years.  Fall flowers offered beauty and praise. And we visited. Old friends. Our stories and memories colliding in the wrinkles of our faces. Laughter. Gratitude. Surprise. Collectively we have lived many years. We hold so much from this small town. 

The drive there and back is blessed by the trees of Tennessee and Kentucky. We get it all! Every color. The depth of changes. Some green lingers to remind us change is around the corner, or just a few hours down the road. A few bare limbs make clear the winter ahead.  Stories shared along the way full of new life springing up from old. Mom tells the story of the first time Dick attended church with her when they were dating. We listen a little deeper. 

My reading this morning includes the fifth and sixth chapter of Mark. I am struck by the power that is experienced with just a touch of Jesus.  The desire and seeking of many people just to get close enough to touch him, with the hope of being healed. 

⁵⁵ They ran throughout that whole region and carried the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. ⁵⁶ And wherever he went—into villages, towns or countryside—they placed the sick in the marketplaces. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed. (Mark 6:55-16 NIV)

The halls of my hometown church hold their own memories. I ran and walked those halls with all the love and comfort a community of faith offers. Every adult, both young and old, knew my name and watched for me as part of that love.  Someone was always paying attention. We were loved and we knew it, even though we didn’t know what we were experiencing.

I suppose we were like the people who ran from wherever they were to see if they could touch Jesus. Or that Jesus might see them and reach out with a touch. A touch that holds love. And healing. And hope.  

It is raining this morning and the leaves will drop at the arrival of wind and colder temps. The beautiful colors will soon be replaced by the stark strength of bare limbs standing strong, clearly prepared for the coming winter. This week is a change, marked not by dates on the calendar but by the surrounding voice in creation showing us; the time has come. 

I suspect there are many of us who are running towards something right now to see if we might experience just a touch of healing. My faith tells me that there are also many of us who carry the love, hope, and grace of Christ to share.  Maybe our collective prayer today is simply that our paths allow us to connect, for healing to come, and for the love of Jesus to touch us again.

Lord, thank you for the many ways you offer us your love and healing touch. However we need to experience that today, help us to receive it. And if there is any way you have equipped us to share your healing with someone else, we trust you will allow our paths to connect just as it needs to be. Thank you for the grace we see in your creation’s beauty; thank you for the grace we experience in our ordinary lives.

Phil Wickham: Creator (an opportunity to praise)