Today's Walk by Jim Reynolds

Touching Jesus

The father was desperate… near panic.  His daughter was dying and the only one who could do anything about it… the one who had been walking (can you imagine walking?! ) to his house had suddenly stopped.  A few moments earlier, Jairus had tossed aside every rule, every instruction by his superiors, every shred of dignity, and fallen into the dust at the feet of this man he had been hearing about and watching for months now.  He could barely speak as he wiped the tears and snot from his face.  He honestly couldn't remember the words he'd used other than “My daughter is dying” and “Help me.”  That last one he had repeated several times.  “Please… you must come touch her,” he cried. 

The woman was desperate… had to be.  She was about to break several laws… not to mention the social codes.  She had heard about this healer named Jesus... had become convinced that He could help.  “At least,” she thought “He can do no worse than the doctors have been doing.”  Another twinge of pain shot through her gut and she knew what she had to do.  There was so much commotion and so many people bumping against Jesus, surely she wouldn't be noticed.  “If I just touch Him… if I can reach His robes… I will be healed… I know it.”

She weaved her way through the crowd hoping to be no more than a wraith… a shadow slipping between the followers.  Jesus seemed focused on His goal of getting to the man's house. “That poor man,” she thought.  She had been sick for twelve years… “but to have a sick child… what must that be like?”  The emotion of the moment was good cover for her intentions.  “If I just touch Him…”   

She wished Jesus would turn… even slightly; there was something so kind and… accepting… in His eyes.  She felt as certain about Him as she did that each night she would wake up the next morning in pain.  “Even if He knew all about me… even if He knew what was wrong… how unclean I am… He would still care… ”  She focused her attention on Jesus' back… the sway of His shoulders as He continued along… speaking to those near Him… assuring the father that all would be well.  “If I just touch Him…”

Suddenly behind Him and keeping pace with Jesus' steps, the woman sucked in her breath, holding it… for courage or nerves she wouldn't remember.  Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she stretched it out.  “If I just touch Him…”  And then she did.  As her hand brushed Jesus' robe, a new trembling began through her whole body.  It was as if her insides were vibrating furiously, like a sheet in stiff wind.  And there was warmth… and somehow… even without speaking a word… there was the acceptance she had been wishing for earlier… and… there was healing!  She felt it instantly.  Her suffering was over.  She caught her breath and grinned, stopped, and let the crowd pull ahead of her a bit. 

At least that had been the plan.  Jesus – and with Him, the entire crowd – suddenly stopped.  “Who touched My clothes?” He called out.  His disciples quickly answered, “What do you mean?  There's people all around.  We've all touched You!  How can you ask such a question?”  Jairus shook off his shock and frustration and pleaded, “That's right… we must hurry.  You HAVE to touch my daughter!” 

The woman felt a new warmth as embarrassment rushed over her.  She quickly looked around and realized (did anyone else notice?) that she appeared to be the only person not murmuring something… wondering what was going on…  Jesus had indeed turned… and was He… staring at her?  Did He know?  “Even if He knew all about me… He would still care…” she found herself thinking again. She stepped forward through the confused crowd.  Oddly, with each step, her fear grew… and her confidence waned.  What if she had been wrong about this man?  Suddenly, for the second time that day, she stood next to Jesus.  “If I just touch Him…” she thought and fell to her knees, grasping His ankles. 

The whole story came tumbling from her lips with little reason or organization -- the bleeding… the waiting… the hoping it would go away… the doctors… the desperation… the plan… the touch… the hope.  At some point (she couldn't remember when) Jesus had raised her to her feet.  Now, He looked into her eyes and simply said, “Daughter, your faith has healed you.  Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”   

Jairus couldn't believe what was happening.  If she'd been sick for that long, couldn't she wait another few hours?!  To his left, there was another commotion.  He turned to see his servant emerging from the crowd, out of breath… and oh no… that look… the down turned eyes.  “Sir, your daughter… is dead.”  Jairus blinked, letting the words burrow and settle in his mind.  He felt weak… and the ground seemed to pitch beneath him.  His servant steadied him with a firm clutch of his arm.  “We must go…  Sir, there's no reason to bother Jesus anymore.”

“But…” Jairus stumbled, “He must touch her.”  His mouth felt dry and even with his servant stiffly holding him up, the ground refused to stop moving.  Jairus had nearly forgotten about Jesus' presence when His strong arms reached out and firmly took hold of his shoulders.  “Ignore them.  Don't be afraid.  Just believe.  I will touch your daughter.” 

Jesus instructed the crowd to stay and only took Jairus, Peter, James, and John with Him.  Outside of the house, they encountered a new crowd.  Mourners… family… friends… wailing loudly.  Jairus struggled free of his own emotions, rushed to his wife, and held her.  Jesus said something... and strangely, some in the crowd were now laughing.  “Jesus will touch her,” he said, stroking his wife's cheek. 

They went inside and there seemed to be more silence than there should be.  The crowd of mourners seemed muffled, not by the stone around them, but by the weight of the atmosphere.  Jairus felt weak again… but strengthened his muscles to hold his wife.  Jesus crossed to where the girl lay… and touched her hand.  “Little girl, I say get up!”  Jairus watched as his little girl's eyes flicked open like she had been struck.  But there was no pain in those eyes… no shock.  She flipped her legs around to the side of bed and stood.  New tears sprang from the parents' eyes and smiles lit every face.  It wouldn't occur to him until later but, oddly, the largest smile had graced Jesus' face.

The above certainly isn't perfect… but I've been caught lately by a desire to simply reach out and touch Jesus.  To bring Him not only my worries, but the pains of those around me.  The family of the woman down the street dying of cancer.  The dear woman in our church who recently became a widow. The underemployed. The young men and women sprinkled throughout the congregation battling emotional and physical pain.  The people who sometimes seem so… lost.  The dozens in our community who truly are lost… eternally.  I am desperate to simply touch Jesus.  (This was the genesis of WWJ, after all.) 

But I question that desperation sometimes.  Emotion and desire will carry us forward for a bit… but the people in this story overcame all sorts of inertia to reach Him.  I want to touch Him… but I want to “want to” more.  (I hope you can read that properly.)  And I hope that my stylized, imaginative recreation of Mark 5:21-43 has reawakened your desire… your desperation even… to “Just touch Him.”

Walk WITH Jesus,

Jim

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Jim Reynolds – John 14:1-6

Copyright 2009

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BIO

At this writing, Jim is hoping to create more time to write. It seems God is blessing people! Me touching them is helping them touch Him. And it just doesn't get any better than that!

Jim grew up – and sometimes still longs for – the suburbs of Kansas City , but now has the privilege of serving as the pastor of a non-denominational Midwestern church. He and his wonderful, beautiful, multi-talented wife, Deanna, have two children still with them and one “Punkin Seed” waiting for them in Heaven; she “went to live with her other Daddy” at the age of 5 ½ months. Jim is thrilled, humbled, and grateful for the opportunity to write for this magazine.