There are two days that will forever stand out in my life, though they are completely opposite each other. The first day I will never forget was the day I woke up and found a small, white spot on the back of my hand. I had never had such a spot on my hand before, though I knew what it meant. I did my best to hide it, to prevent my wife and son from seeing it. But in a few days, the single spot became several spots. I couldn’t hide it from my wife anymore. The pain in her eyes as the realisation dawned on her was more than I could bear. My son was still too young to know what was going on, though he sensed the mounting tension in our family. We all did our best to carry on as though nothing was wrong, until one day when my son was helping me sharpen the sheep shears. He was playing nearby, when I heard him let out a cry. I turned to see a look of horror on his face as he looked at my hand which was holding the sharpening stone. At first I thought he was looking at the spots, but then I felt something drip onto my sandal. I looked down to see a pool of red. I had sliced my hand with the shears, and blood flowed from the deep cut. But it was not the wound that made my heart freeze with fear; it was the realisation that I hadn’t noticed the cut – the realisation that the leprosy had left my hand completely numb. I looked again at my son, whose face was now splattered with tears as he ran to get me a bandage for my hand. As I wrapped the wound, my heart ached at the thought that this would be the last memory my boy would ever have of his father.
That night, my wife and I discussed what to do. The course of action was the obvious – I was to present myself to the temple priests for inspection; but we both knew they would only confirm what we were already certain of. After that, I would be forced to leave the town where I grew up, the friends and family I knew and loved, and sped the rest of my life surrounded only by those suffering the same affliction.
The next morning, I made ready for the journey. For the last time, I embraced my wife. For the last time, I clutched my son, holding him up with my good arm, looking into his face and desperately choking back tears as we said good-bye. He didn’t know I would never be coming back, didn’t know that he could never see me again, and that if he did, he might not recognise me. I studied his face carefully, noting every freckle and dimple, burning them into my memory. Then I put him down, hugged my wife one last time, and walked out the door.
As the priests sent me away, their words echoed over and over in my ears. “Unclean! Unclean!” they cried as they covered their faces and turned their backs to me. And so it began – the isolation, the loneliness, the craving for companionship that was just beyond my reach. “Unclean, unclean!” I was forced to shout if anyone passed by. And so it was. The days turned to weeks, and the weeks to years, every day calling out “unclean, unclean” lest someone should come too close, lest they should be touched with my disease. With each passing day, my affliction spread over my body, forcing me deeper and deeper into exile.
And then, after the years of seclusion, the years of yearning to once again be in the company of those I knew and loved, there came another day I shall never forget.
I awoke that day to the sound of a crowd of people passing nearby. Fearing retribution for being too near, I quickly retreated a safe distance away, but I was intrigued by what might be going on. Staying hidden, I watched as the vast throng moved slowly along. Their attention seemed to be centred on a Man who was speaking to them. As I heard the words He spoke, something long silent stirred within me. I had heard of One whom people were saying was the Messiah, One who could perform miracles. I had even heard He had cured ten men of leprosy, though at the time, it seemed impossible. Not since the days of the prophet Elisha had such a miracle been performed. And yet as I stood there, outcast as I was, and listened to the words He spoke, I became more and more certain that this was more than a mere man, and indeed, more even than a prophet. And the stirring in me grew stronger with each moment, until I suddenly felt myself being drawn to Him, my feeble legs carrying my decaying body closer and closer to His presence.
As I approached, the people scattered in terror. In my eagerness to reach Him, I had not called out the warning, and now the crowds were clamouring over one another to escape coming into contact with me. Some stood between me and my Lord, shouted at me to leave. But He turned and looked at me, and in His eyes I saw a power and a compassion that I could not resist. Weak from the strain and excitement, I fell at His feet, and cried out to Him, “Lord, if you are willing, I know you can make me clean.” At that moment, my strength gave way, and I collapsed on the ground, trembling for what might happen next.
And then I felt the strangest thing. Not strange because it was new, but strange because it was all too familiar, something I had ached for but was certain I would never again experience. I felt His hand upon my shoulder. It was the first human touch I had felt since I embraced my wife and child for the last time years earlier.
He let His hand rest there, and I heard the words, “I will; you are made clean.” From that touch poured healing that brought new life to my whole body. Feeling returned to my fingers and toes, and the scales and spots that had riddled my skin disappeared. I stood up, and felt new strength flow through my body. I was healed! No longer would I have to warn others away; no longer would my days be filled with loneliness, sorrow and longing. Once again I could embrace my wife; once again I could hug my son. With one touch, the touch I had been craving for years, He brought life back to me. With one touch, He gave me a reason to live again.
(BEAT)
He could have healed that man with leprosy at a distance, but instead, Jesus disregarded all the warnings and overcame this man’s isolation; and He touched him!
This was an expression of Jesus’ sympathy and compassion, born of an infinite love for all mankind. It was not a touch merely for the sake of healing, nor a spontaneous expression of pity. Rather, it was a deliberate demonstration of love toward one for whom this expression was forbidden. And it’s an action that we are confronted with again and again in the Gospels.
Nothing less than a personal touch with a person in need will ever satisfy Jesus. We have one or two cases on record that show Christ’s power to heal at a distance, but in the great majority of cases it was a personal touch that brought new life and hope.
I would ask you today: Do we have that personal touch?
In his book Caring, Feeling, Touching, Sidney B. Simon, a teacher at the University of Massachusetts, speaks of a “skin hunger” that is felt by all of us. It is a deep-seated need for the touch, the feel, the concrete reality of human contact. He points out that every human being comes into this world needing to be touched, and that this is a need that persists until death.
The story is told of a man who lived alone, and ate out for breakfast on most mornings.
One morning he was sitting at the counter in a restaurant, feeling unloved and lonely, when a woman came in and sat down next to him.
They started talking, and the woman told him that he looked like somebody who really needed a hug. He told her that he hadn’t had a hug for a long time. This woman slipped from her seat and opened her arms wide.
He accepted the embrace, and was so energized by it that he went about from that point on offering hugs to other people.
How many are there in our church, here this morning, who have not had physical contact with someone all week? Who have not had a hug, or a handshake, or a warm hand on their shoulder? Will they find it here today? Will you be the one to offer it?
Friends, in our capacity to express love, we must never underestimate the power of touch. Jesus understood it well. Everywhere He went, His hands were extended to those around Him. The love of the Father was felt by all who received His touch. We read in the Gospels that He took little children upon His knee, placed His hands upon their heads, and blessed them. His words of blessing and healing were accompanied by the touch of a compassionate and loving hand. Those who received His touch were never the same.
And today, each one of us is called to be the hands of Jesus Christ, to reach out and touch those around us, to extend to a world in exile the love of the Father. We are told in the Word of God that we are to greet each other with a holy embrace, and to lay hands upon the sick in prayer for healing. Jesus knew the power of human touch, and He has called upon His church to be His hands – to reach out and touch a world in need of the unconditional love of God.
It has been said that people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. In His wisdom, Jesus calls us to be more than teachers of truth: He calls us to be conveyors of God’s love – that unconditional love that will draw all mankind to Him.
Of course, we cannot convey this love unless we first have it within us. Truth is easy to convey: you can have a head-knowledge of the truth of God’s Word, and convince people of truth. But if all we have is a head-knowledge of truth, without a heart experience of God’s love, we’re as lost as ever.
The good news is, however, that God’s love is reaching out to us no matter where we are. Like the leper, we may have felt the need to distance ourselves from others. We may have felt unworthy to approach God, felt that our condition is beyond His ability to cleanse and heal. But my Bible tells me that there is no condition so hopeless, no sin so grievous, that one touch from Jesus cannot make it whole.
The Word of God tells us, in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 1 and verses 40 and 41, that one day, while Jesus was here on earth “A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, ‘Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.’
Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man.
‘I am willing,’ he said.
‘Be clean!’
Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured.”
Oh, won’t you let Him touch you today? God is waiting with arms wide open, wanting us to accept His embrace, His healing, His restoration. And then He wants us to pass His love on to others. Are we doing this? We are to touch others with the Holy Hands of Christ, and we can only truly do this when we have allowed His love to touch us. On this earth, at this crucial time in history, Christ has no hands except our hands.
Our hands are the hands of Christ.
(Appeal to join hands in prayer).
