Touching Grace

As I stood there in the bustling crowd, my heart raced with a mixture of fear and hope. I had heard whispers of this man who could do the unimaginable. Would he be willing to work a wonder in my wretched life? I had suffered for years, plagued by a chronic illness that had left me isolated and desperate for a cure.

As I caught a glimpse of him in the distance, my anticipation grew. He moved with a grace and power that seemed otherworldly, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I knew that this might be my only chance, my only hope for healing.

My steps faltered as I approached him, my body trembling with nerves. I knew that according to the law, I was considered unclean, and touching him would make him unclean too- well, according to the law. Nevertheless, the desperation in me overruled my fear.

With trembling hands, I reached out and touched the edge of his cloak, hoping against hope that by this, someway, somehow, by some unlikely chance, I would be healed. I nearly missed it, I barely touched it, I only brushed it…but then, in that instant, something incredible happened. A surge of warmth spread through my body, and I felt a sensation unlike any I had ever felt- peace. The pain that had been my constant companion began to fade, replaced by a tingling sensation of healing. I was overcome with emotion, tears streaming down my face as I realized that something divine had taken place.

But my joy was short-lived, as he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the crowd. My heart skipped a beat, and I braced myself for his reaction. Would he be angry that I had touched him, making him unclean? Would he push me away, like so many others had done in the past? But as I looked into Jesus’ eyes, I saw something I hadn’t expected. Compassion. Understanding. Love.

His gaze fell upon me, and I felt as though he saw right through me, seeing not just my physical ailment, but the pain and longing in my heart.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked, his voice gentle but firm, and the crowd around me parted, leaving me standing face to face with him. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed with emotion, my tears flowing freely.

“It was me, Lord,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I touched you, and I was healed.”

I held my breath, waiting for his response, unsure of what would come next.

“Daughter,” Jesus said, his voice filled with tenderness. “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction.”

I looked up at him with tears of gratitude and awe, feeling a renewed sense of hope and purpose flooding my being. I was no longer just a woman who had been physically healed, but a daughter of God, touched by the hand of Jesus himself.