Friday, January 13, 2012


When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret.
And when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they
sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought
all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick
just touch the edge of his cloak
, and all who touched
it were healed. —Matthew 14 NIV

Men too.

Men touched Jesus' robe and were healed. I am surprised.
Then, after a moment of reflection, I am not surprised.

Jesus healed the sick. Jesus heals the sick.
Women and men. Then and now.

The story of the woman with enough faith
to be healed simply by touching Jesus'
robe was and is my personal favorite.

I envy her faith.

I am awed by the miracle.

In my chapter-by-chapter journey through the New Testament, I discover the story of the woman touching Jesus' robe (Matt 9 MSG) is a miracle repeated in another context, another city (Matt 14 NIV).

I smile, remembering the voice of my friend Howie behind me on Sunday mornings in 9am Tattoo. God repeats Himself, Howie says, as the clueless me struggles with Biblical concepts, questions everything, aloud.

There is comfort in the repetition.

At times when I feel as though the bloodletting of sharp-tongued Trolls might kill me, or that the tortuous medical solutions to the biology of an aging woman's body will never bring healing, I find hope in the multiple human beings healed by the faith to reach out and simply touch Jesus' robe.

Photo Credit: Woman from The Passion

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