Reach for Me…

Walking the cities and villages have become common for me. The dusty roads and long winding paths are what I tread on regularly. Reaching for the desolate, the broken, and the downcast. Lifting the faces of those discouraged and needing hope. I lived daily to give my life for those who wanted to know me, to those who needed healing and hope.

Coming to earth to minister and give my life was an honor but often the weight and burden I carried wasn’t seen or noticed by the crowds that thronged and desired my attention. The days were long, the stress was heavy, and at times it was wearisome. I felt the same feelings you feel. I was human flesh walking amongst humanity. I was lonely. I needed friends, and like many other miracles, those friends were provided. Many days I was hungry, thirsty, and needed to stop and nurture myself and rest. Often, I longed and craved for time away and desperately sought a place of solitude so I could renew my mind and find strength for my weary soul. Retreats were necessary so I could continue with the work I was sent here to do.

I was walking these same familiar towns and villages one day, speaking life to those hungry to know more of me when I was approached by a man named Jairus. He was a ruler of the synagogue; he fell at my feet and begged me to come to his house. He only had one daughter, she was twelve years old and lay at home sick and close to death. My immediate response was to go right away but the crowd around me was intense, and many desired my attention that day. As I was heading in the direction of Jairus’s home I felt a tug on my garment. I know with a crowd this large you might wonder how I could tell that this tug was different. Somehow, I could. It was desperate. It felt hopeless. I had to stop and acknowledge it. As I turned, she stood sobbing and gasping at my feet, fearful that she had done something wrong, but I understood she was desperate. I asked with authority, “Who touched me?” I know someone has for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me. I made eye contact with her; she knew she had been exposed. She was trembling. She stood there and said, “it was me”. Overwhelming compassion welled up within me and immediately I let her know she was healed.

The feeling of joy that flooded through me in that moment is hard to describe. Once again, I was allowed to experience what I was sent here to do. To bind up a broken soul and speak life into a hopeless life. To experience these miraculous happenings throughout my time on earth overwhelmed me at times. In my times of retreat and refreshing, I found myself reflecting on my purpose, and the indescribable joy I felt when I performed life-giving miracles.

Volumes of manuscripts describing the miracles that happened like this could be written. I came to earth to heal the broken hearted, to mend the desperate and torn apart lives of countless thousands that flooded to see me. Yet, the thing that I still long for today is for every person, the billions that live on planet earth, is to know me. Not just to know me, but to communicate with me daily. I want to walk with and talk with you. I want to know the things in your life that concern you and I want to share in your victories and dreams. I want to know you.

I want you to know that I experienced all the feelings you have, every doubt, every fear, your anxiety, and pain. I did the courageous thing and that was to crucify my body on a tree so that you could live an overcoming life and be set free of anything that binds you. I am the resurrection and life, and I am what you need today to live victoriously.

So, like the woman that reached for the hem of my garment, reach for me. Know I will hear your desperate cry and heal you. You are chosen, you are loved, you are forgiven, and though I am no longer walking the earth, I still care. I have not left you, but have gone to prepare a home for you, and for eternity you and I will celebrate in heaven.


Just a Small Town Girl

The Old Button FactoryJust a small town girl wanting to encourage faith and hope in everyone I see.  With twelve brothers and sisters, I grew up number nine. Poor but so rich, I flew off for a college adventure in California and really never looked back…except to reminence once in a while of the fortune I had but truly never appreciated until I was much older. I think often of my small town and the friends I left there. Dayville was an East Coast town that didn’t seem to grow much more than a thousand. We lived in walking distance to a train track and old button factory that my brothers and sisters and I would frequently scour and dig around for rustic buttons that my mom would use to sew. The four seasons there were perfect. Spring time was beautiful, the budding trees were amazing, Connecticut was known for their tall full Oak trees. The summers were scorching hot, often I remember running bare feet across hot pavement to play kickball with all the neighborhood kids who had gathered to take on the Odum clan. At night we would use fans in open windows to give us a cool breeze. Fall left the hugest leaf piles a child could dream of, often we’d rake up a high pile and jump, burying ourselves in the rough brittle leaves, laughing and carrying on, and then creating the most human like scarecrows we could imagine. Winters left neatly piled wood on the front porch so we could keep our wood stoves burning, snow drifts would sometimes be waste high and the tobogganing down steep hills leaving us at the bottom of the hill in a huge human heap were a part of winter, as well as iceskating on the pond at Owen Bell Park. These are some of my fondest memories. But I flew off leaving those memories behind like a freight train headed on a mission to deliver cargo to a distant city. Life was sweet!