Based on Luke 8:43-48
The crowd pressed in around her as the smell of humanity stung her nostrils.
Closer, she thought, I have to reach Him.
She hugged her rough shawl around her head and face.
They can't recognize me. They know I'm not supposed to be here. I defile everything I touch, but I must reach Him. Her mind reeled as she navigated the moving throng.
I just have to touch His hem. He won't have to know. No one needs to know. She reassured herself as she bent down and reached out her hand. The tips of her fingers barely brushed the dusty hem of His robe and she felt it. Her body was whole there was no doubt and she stopped moving in the midst of the crowd.
Then He stopped moving. Her heart squeezed tight and she held her breath.
“Who touched me?”
She knew the answer to His question. Her lips trembled, “It was me.” She managed.
There she stood, exposed, but no longer ashamed.
Her touch did not defile Him, instead He made her whole and clean.
And I wonder if I am ready to reach out and touch Him? Am I ready to risk ridicule and exposure to be made clean? Am I desperate enough to crawl through the dust just to touch His hem? Or do I pretend I am not desperate for healing? Do I think my pitiful attempts at healing myself will win me points with God? When He accepts me and heals me wounds and all.
Or do I think somehow my disease will defile Him? I'm too far gone to be healed? Or am I comfortable with my disease and unwilling to go through the healing process?
Maybe it is time to get on my knees…crawling through the dust…just touch touch His hem.