Messy Monday: Tired, Touched

It's always encouraging to see examples of good parenting in the Bible. Like those dear mothers and fathers who followed Jesus around, bringing Him their kiddos, so that He would touch them.

His touches, unnecessary graces. Grace gifts that awaken senses when nothing makes sense.

The Five Love Languages of Children was wandering wild in my mind too awake late Saturday night. When my joints were achy and I forgot to take my medicine (again), and all those wonderings cropped up in my forest of future, trees I have yet to climb and yet I still can't see past them.

The medicines I will not take- refuse to. Praise God I am in the position to make those decisions.

The tears of frustration wondering when will it be again like it was then?

When I didn't have to worry about the food I ate. Or the workouts I did. Or how I spent my time and money. Or whether or not my wrists would buckle under the weight of the chunkiest gift of squishy-love I'd ever received. I just needed a God-sized hug for my heart-sized fatigue. So. tired.

I pondered those good parents- the ones who brought their children face to face with Jesus. Close enough to touch, and not just on Sundays.

And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them. Mark 8:16

It's a love language, physical touch. Jesus knew- He invented it.

It's why a handshake indicates its master's demeanor. It's what makes hugs warm and welcomed, or just... awkward.

And He didn't have to do it. In fact, Jesus didn't really have to touch anyone. People were healed just by touching His cloak (Matthew 9:20, 14:36; Mark 5:27-31, 6:56; Luke 8:44-47). He could raise the dead with just a word (Luke 7:14).

And His eyes say it all. "Who looks on the earth and it trembles..." Psalm 104:32

Still, He touched them. Because He loved them. The children. The leper (Matthew 8:1). The servant of the high priest in the garden. "And he touched his ear and healed him." Luke 22:51 No words of healing, no faith lecture, no snazzy point-and-shoot move with an ear tacked on like a tracking dart. Something tells me that touch said all that ear ever needed to hear.

 

I needed to hear it too. To look forward to the day when the faith meets the physical. When the cross I bear will be traded for a crown I wear, a crown He will place there. Not because He has to, because He wants to. When the only language will be love, and the embrace everlasting. When the pauper will become the princess by the providence of the King, and the only buckling will be the knees of the saved under the weight of the glory and joy and adoration of the Most High, the  Lord who saves us.

One day we will all be touched by Jesus, really touched. Healed. I can't wait. Until then, those unnecessary graces come other tangible forms. Today I pray He gives me the eyes to see, ears to hear, and love to spread the grace around.