Touching the Hem

How do I almost always forget?

How is it every year, on July 20th,  I almost forget the day that I woke up full of determination and nerve, packed a clean change of clothes, -steely and sure of my plans- and did something I knew I needed to do?

Something I’d been pondering for months…years even, if I’m honest with myself.

Eleven years ago today I gave my life to Jesus and I walked my thirty year-old body down the aisle at church and I told Jesus and I told my minister and I told a group of folks that loved me that today was the day I wanted to be baptized into the family of God.

And how is it that still…at almost forty one years-old and eleven years of walking with Him…how do days remain that I still need Him to remind me that He loves me and that I belong to Him?

Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.” Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed from that moment. (Matthew 9:20-22)

When does it happen that I’ll just automatically remember?

When does it happen that I won’t need Him to remind me?

When does it happen that I’ll quit defaulting to that lost toddler in the grocery store…scared and alone, looking frightened toward the eyes of the bigger people…the stronger people…the more important people…hoping one of them will show me the way back to the one who holds my hand daily?

When does it happen that my first knowledge, my only knowledge will be not one of insecurity, but one of sureness? A child yes…but a child strong. A child found. A child whole. A child healed.

He reminds me.

He reminds me that is who I am.

His Word reminds me over and over again that what I was then isn’t who I am now.

And every time I remember that day, that day I woke and decided it was time to quit looking…time to quit searching…time to put what I knew into action and make it what I know…

He reminds me that yes, I still belong to Him.

Why do we forget?

Is it so that, in forgetting, we remember the dark days? The days before we were found?

Is it so that in our forgetting, we’ll remember and understand the man who pleaded “I do believe; help my unbelief.”? (Mark 9:24)

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Is it so that in our forgetting we’ll remember how unworthy we are…a foreigner…a stranger…a sinner still?

But doesn’t it happen always…suddenly…softly…in our forgetting, we catch that familiar and assuring glimpse of Him…that reflection…that image…that holy Word right there in red…

…and we reach to touch the hem.

And we remember all over again.

The old struggles…the sins we hate…the hurt we hide…the load we carry…the sorrows we bear…

…even in that old habit of forgetting, when we belong to Him, we remember.

We remember all we have to do is reach out to Him.

And He’ll remind us.

He’ll remind us that He healed us then and that He heals us now and that when the shoulders striped took the sin stained, He showed us how forgiveness is forever and that love is for always.

And when our worn out fingers touch the frayed and noble edge of His robe and He takes our face in hands scarred and tells us…all over again…maybe for the millionth time this time…

…aren’t we reminded, maybe even a little stronger this time?

That our faith has healed us…

That we are His daughters…

That we belong to Him.

Me, I touched His hem today.

And today…He reminded me yet again.

That yesterday…today… tomorrow…

I belong to Him.

And that always…always…

…when we are His…

…we are whole.

 

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

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Credits:

How Deep the Father’s Love for Us, Lyrics written by Stuart Townend

Photos:  Flowers, Show Hope, Cross Rock, copyright Cassandra Rankin, This Crazy Little Farm

 

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