Touched with a touch

Words. Judgments. More like life sentences I suppose. They burn in my mind, their constant singeing leaving scars across my soul. Year after year, burn upon burn, I am left with only the ashes. They don't realize that my life is held in their every word. They say they will fix me. They say this time with be different. Yet I watch the smoke rise, my money burned away in the flames, burning away also the wick of my life that could run out any day now. My heart like a leper, growing numb to any promise of hope that somewhere may remain. 

I step out into the busy marketplace, alive with activity. Merchants make their trades, men argue over goods, women scurry around in many directions, hustling to get today's tasks complete. I cover my face, my hands, lest they give me away. My cloak, my cover, my attempt at normality.

I run fragile fingers slowly up my arm, drawing my arms close to my chest. Oh, to be touched again. To know I am loved, accepted. Not brushed aside, not rejected, no longer an outcast. To feel the warmth of an embrace, to hold the hand of a child or to know that affirmation of a hand on my shoulder. How the absence of these little things pain me so! To be looked upon with eyes of gentleness and grace. To be seen as something lovely and not regarded a burden or as society's wretch. For only a moment, I wish to once again be looked at and have people not wonder what sin I must have committed for me to be the way I am.

I begin to walk without an idea of where I am going. I slip through back alleys and blend into my surroundings. I reach a part of the city I have not dared to go for quite some time. I see the Temple and my heart breaks. How I wish to enter, how I long to worship the Lord. Why I should worship I do not know, but there remains a desire within me all the same. What God must think of me, it's a thought I don't wish to ponder for long. I don't let my eyes linger here, but lower them to the earth beneath me and try to disappear as if I was even visible in the first place.

As I walk mindlessly back from where I came, I hear great chattering and the loud bustle of many feet. A throng of people has formed, the whole town must be here. Suddenly, something clicks in my spirit. There is no other explanation, it has to be Him. It's Jesus, the One they call the Messiah.

I push myself into the crowd of people, straining to reach Him. The crowd tries to suffocate me, but I will not quit. If I would rather die to live than live another day of constant death such as this. I trip and stumble through the mass of people as every muscle presses with all its might. "If only...if only..." the words I mutter under my breath only make my heart beat faster. 50 feet. 30 feet. 20 feet. 10. My limbs move without me having to tell them to. I reach forward, praying I will make it, praying I won't collapse.

I touch the fringe of his coat and am overwhelmed and healed. Warmth overcomes me, yet it's not the warmth of healing or fresh blood coursing through my veins that could explain this sensation.

Love. It's love I feel.

Twelve years. Twelve years an outcast. Twelve years left un-whole. Twelve years of brokenness. They evaporate almost instantly.

"Who touched me?"

The question makes me tremble. He knows. Suddenly, I am laid bare. For years I have become good at disappearing, but now I am known and exposed. The joy at my healing is overcome by the fear of what may come next.

People are discussing what is going on, but their rambling slurs into a haze, drowned out by my heartbeat, loud and looming in my head.

"I felt power go out from me." he states, "Who touched me?" 

I realize what I have just done and my soul shakes in fear. I throw myself on the dirty ground at his feet, prepared to plead with him.

"It was me Lord. I touched you, perhaps I shouldn't have, but I did. I have suffered now twelve years now with a blood disease. No doctor could fix me and I have been without hope, living daily in death. I thought to myself, "If only I could touch the hem of his garment, I will be healed." So I pressed through this crowd to get to you. I touched you Lord and I am healed." 

The explanation pours out of me like fire. I dare not lift my eyes from the dust. Though I cannot see him, I can feel the weight of his gaze.I hear his steps toward me followed by the warm kindness of his voice.

“Daughter," the name rolls from his tongue, so sweet and so wonderful.  "Your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

I hesitate before I draw my eyes upward, unsure of what I'll find. Eyes full of love meet me. I search his face for a rebuke, yet it is not condemnation that he carries. We are alone together and he loves me. We are alone together and I am whole. We are alone together though the crowd still surrounds us and my heart knows that He is the Christ.

As He carries on, I feel again the warm downpour of love cocooning me.

His love.

God's love.

Once marked, sentenced to death. Now marked, given freely healing, peace, joy and love.

Rea Sea Rising

  The sudden knock on the door sends a shiver up my spine. The sun has not yet risen, but the air is hot and thick. A night of worry and sweat has caused my clothing to stick to me.

"Are you all alright?" comes the whisper from the darkness. A familiar voice; I can breathe.
"Mariah?"
Wide brown eyes, a tired face and thick, dark curls peek from behind the wooden door frame.
"Thank the Lord you all made it through." she gasps as she rushes to embrace me. "It won't be long now. Jehovah will bring us to freedom. I know it."
"How is little Hadassah doing?"
"She's well, she slept through most the night, unlike the rest of the family. But I best be getting back to them, they're still a little shaken." And with that, she disappeared once again into the dark.
Breath. We made it. Breath. Everything is alright. Breath. Jehovah with provide. Breath.
The child in my arms breaks into a whine, breaking my musings with it. My husband and young son are out checking with the other families. Shrill cries can be heard in the distance. The angel left a wailing Egypt in its wake.
It burns to close my bloodshot eyes, but my body cries for rest. On edge all night, every tensed muscle desires to relax. The first light of morning begins to spill into the room as I and my child doze off.
* * *
Jewelry. Gold. Clothing. Precious commodities. They tell us to collect them from the Egyptians. Can it really be that we are leaving? 
Egypt is all I've ever known. Hard work, long days, dust and pain, here is where I've spend my days. I thought I would die on this soil, as I've watched so many before me. Though I know the God of my ancestors is great, could Jehovah really be doing this here, now and with this people? My mind reels at the thought of it. They are scared though, the Egyptians. I guess that makes collecting their goods that much easier. Their scars are before us now, brought out be the plagues, the loss, pain and darkness. A new light is rising for us now and my heart rises with it. After so much pain, hope has finally lit up our eyes. We gather, nervous anticipation bubbling out our every faucet.
Our feet move quickly, years of being forced at fast pace make the habit hard to break. Dust licks our faces, filling out eyes and caking up in layers upon our feet. The lowing of cattle and the questions of children fill the air. I cast my gaze upward to meet that of my husband. His eyes are locked, set before him like stone. Beads of sweat roll down his dirty face, making trails through the dust. His jaw is locked, his breaths deep and long. Yet there remains a softness behind his countenance that I've rarely seen. Relief. Peace. Perhaps even the beginnings of what my be joy. I know his overly cautious nature won't let him be free internally. At least not yet.
Slowly but surely, we make our trek to freedom. Even after hours upon hours of travel, the mass that is out small nation presses onward still. A mighty shout is heard in the distance, causing the ball in my throat to finally drop into my stomach at long last. Whispers spread through the crowd as if it was what we were all expecting anyway. They're coming and we know it. Perhaps freedom was too high a goal.
My arm instinctively grabs that of my husband, the firmness of his body is all that keeps me steady. I pray the child on my back will not wake as my free hand quickly clutches my other son. My feet keep their pace, but my mind is in a frozen standstill. I dawdle along with the mass of people, trying to somehow form a cognitive thought. Suddenly, we stop. I lift my eyes for answers and am met with the taunting blockade of the black sea before us. As the water kisses the shoreline, it mocks us. "So this is how it will end." I settle with myself in my mind.
Suddenly, a boom of thunder jolts me back to life. As collective gasps and cries pour from my people, I swing around to see. What my eyes behold is too much for my mind to try to comprehend. A mighty pillar of fire becomes our defense against the approaching army. It appears as if the sun itself has landed upon the earth. I can feel its heat from where I stand a great distance away.
"Jehovah," the name shudders passed my lips without thought. It must be Him. How could it not be?
As the thunder cries out once more, it rattles though my soul. The crowd disappears in my mind as my gaze shifts to the man before us. Though we thought of Moses as a madman, now he appears a pillar of hope. He lifts his simple shepherds staff above his head like a warrior. Nothing could prepare us for this.
The rushing sound that follows almost mimics the thunder in its volume. The black waters rise and rise and rise. As the sea splits, my heart stops and my breath escapes me. I search the faces of those who surround me, but find in their expressions there is no more clarity than in my own. Yet though our minds don't quite understand what we're to do, our hearts are compelled forward, onward. On to hope, to life, and to freedom.
As my family takes our first step into what just moments ago was deep waters, the salty spray blows up in my face. Hope and anticipation rush through my bloodstream and pump with every beat of my heart. The trek through the walls of water almost seems surreal, none of us quite know what to say. I can see the end in sight.
Warm, salty water tastes sharp on my tongue, though it's not the sea water this time, but unexpected tears of joy. They cascade down my face, the overflow of the emotion within me. As I take my final step unto new land, my heart can contain it no longer. Jehovah. He is Lord.
As the rest of my people reach their new home, hugs are exchanged, countenances lifted. We turn back to see the army now advancing towards us once more. Though they may be armed with weapons we cannot match, we are now armed with the confidence in our God.
The last of our people cross the threshold, the sea begins to fall even more rapidly than rose. The waters roar and men yell, running to escape the hand of the Almighty. As armor and remains wash up on the shoreline, a mighty cry breaks free from the very souls of my people.Finally the joy that we've continually shoved deep within us comes out in vibrant worship and glorious songs of praise. My sleeping child finally wakes, but at his point, it no longer matters. The people dance, children twirl and tambourines begin to play, their music filling the air. I look towards heaven and smile.
Jehovah. He is Lord.