My grandma on the accordion. My grandpa strumming the guitar. I can hear them singing “He Touched Me” as though it happened this morning. They lived their lives sharing the beauty of His touch.
He touched me, Oh He touched me, And oh the joy that floods my soul! Something happened and now I know, He touched me and made me whole.
That touch. It’s soft, yet powerful. It’s tender, yet strong. The touch of the hand of my heavenly father. It’s beautiful and sweet.
Scripture is full of the truth that just one touch from Jesus was powerful enough to heal many. Astonished onlookers said of Him in Mark 6:2:
“Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands?”
I have felt his hand touch mine more times than I can count. . . . . . . .
The time I was the woman with the “issue of blood,” and was scheduled for a hysterectomy; I couldn’t get pregnant again anyways, according to doctors. His touch. And a month before my surgery, I became pregnant with our son. Eighteen months later, pregnant with our youngest daughter.
The moment our youngest daughter no longer had a fetal heartbeat. His touch. And weeks later, on the morning of my scheduled DNC, the nurse found a heartbeat. And then the day she was born 11 weeks early. His touch. And she pulled through. Again, she pulled through after “coding” at three months old while re-hospitalized for RSV. And she pulled through when she was almost two years behind developmentally due to her prematurity. His touch.
The day in May when we huddled in our church hallway praying for protection in the middle of an EF5 tornado. His touch. And though, sadly, hundreds around our new city did not make it that day, we were okay. Though material objects were lost, we were not. His touch. And He walked us through months and months of the struggles that were the aftermath of the storm.
The moment we realized our son was not okay after the storm…. that his aftermath was a continuous violent twister raging in his little mind. The day he was diagnosed with PTSD, Anxiety Disorder, and OCD. His touch. And though we had to wade through a sea of therapists that weren’t right for him, God eventually led us to THE one, who has slowly but surely helped bring our son back. And then there was the three-steps-backwards moment when his disease peaked, he snapped, and we feared hospitalization. His touch. And our son (and family) overcame that moment.
Shackled by a heavy burden, 'Neath a load of guilt and shame. Then the hand of Jesus touched me, And now I am no longer the same.
And though His touch has been obviously apparent in our physical lives, His touch on our hearts has been even more so.
The time(s) when we didn’t think our marriage would survive. And then, His touch.
The period of time when I couldn’t forgive myself for my past, and it affected a very intimate aspect of our present. And then, His touch.
The times when ministry was trying… times when life got real, and real hard… times when there was no money… times when we experienced burn-out… times when we were at our wit’s end… times when life didn’t work out as planned…. when we wanted to give in and give up… and then….. His touch.
Since I met this blessed Savior, Since He cleansed and made me whole, I will never cease to praise Him, I'll shout it while eternity rolls.
Just because we have overcome these (and many, many more) bumps in our journey, does not mean that everything we’ve walked through has turned out the way we hoped or prayed. But God knows infinitely more than I!
God’s touch assures us that even if life gets hard, even if bad things happen, He is always there.
Even when we can’t feel His hand.
As my children grow older, they don’t always take my hand when I hold it out. It’s mostly habit, even with my thirteen year old, as we begin to cross a street or in a crowded public setting. But, even if they don’t immediately grab ahold, I hold it there for a moment… waiting. A young or scared child takes the hand of the person that loves them, to feel the comforting security of that touch. As they grow older and more confident, their need for that touch lessens.
Our need to feel God’s touch often lessens when life is on a high note. Everything is sunshine & rainbows, and then BOOM!… a storm rolls in, and we start questioning where God is.
When we take God’s hand as he reaches out for ours, he walks us across the smooth and shiny roads, and also the bustling, scary, bumpy roads of life. He ensures us that even if, we have the promise of something greater on the other side.
If you’re breathing, then you know that sometimes, life is hard.
ISIS is real. Human/Sex trafficking is real. Senseless crime and murder is real. The call from the doctor confirming that your loved one is sick, is real. The “silent” chronic illness that plagues your days is real. The failing (or failed) marriage… the addicted loved one… the abusive relationship… the missing child… the child sent to heaven too soon… the depression… the hurt…. suicide… IT’S. ALL. REAL.
And, it’s all Life.
But… His touch. Feel it. Embrace it. Allow that sweet touch to cleanse your weary soul. Allow that touch to shower you in His love and grace, and make you whole.
And, even if (or when) life becomes too heavy to bare, recognize that touch on your life. And thank Him for simply, that.
He touched me, Oh He touched me, And oh the joy that floods my soul! Something happened and now I know, He touched me and made me whole. ~Crystal Sunshine I'm honored to be linking up today with Suzie Eller and friends today for #livefreeThursday! Hop over to Suzie's Blog to read these powerful stories of encouragement and freedom from women who are linking up and joining together to live freely in Christ!