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An account, whether true or not, is told in Streams in the Desert of an old, southern deacon who would always end his prayers with, “Lord, prop us up on every leaning side.” 

When asked why he prayed that way, he answered, “Well, sir, you see, it’s like this…I got an old barn out back. It’s been there a long time; it’s withstood a lot of weather. It’s gone through a lot of storms, and it has stood for many years. 

“It’s still standing, but one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit, so I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn’t fall. Then, I got to thinking about that and how much I was like that old barn. I’ve been around a long time. I’ve withstood a lot of hard times, and I’m still standing, too, but I find myself leaning to one side from time to time, so I like to ask the Lord to prop us up on our leaning side, ’cause I figure a lot of us get to leaning at times.” 

A lot of us do get to leaning at times. We begin to lean the wrong way, toward depression, discouragement, giving up, anger, unforgiveness, bitterness, addiction, or whatever. 

Solomon tells us where not to lean, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” (Prov. 3:5-6 NKJV) 

If we lean, let’s lean upon our Beloved as the disciple John did, “Now there was leaning on Jesus’ bosom one of His disciples, whom Jesus loved” (John 13:23 NKJV), and be as the Shulamite, “Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?” (Song 8:5 NKJV) 

Do you have a tendency to lean? Who or what props you up?

 
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If I can just touch His hem...if I can just touch His hem...

Here she was, in the midst of a multitude of people, a place the Law forbade her to be. Why?

For twelve long years, she suffered with a condition, a hemorrhage of blood, one that the doctors could not cure. She spent all her money on their lack of knowledge.

Today, the rumor spread quickly through the local grapevine that the Man of God, Jesus, had just arrived.

And she heard the rumor: He was coming her way, within her reach.

Ostracized and considered unclean, she had been depleted of everything – physically, financially, relationally, and probably emotionally. But her faith remained intact, for she held onto the Scriptures. She clung to it, knowing this was her chance to touch the Man of God Who healed.

How did she know this? She was Jewish; she knew the Scriptures. She knew Jehovah-rapha from such scriptures as “I am Jehovah your healer” (Ex. 15:26 Masoretic Text), and “But to you who fear My name, the Sun of righteousness shall rise up and healing will be on His wings.” (Mal. 4:2 Masoretic Text).

And knowing the prophecies of the Messiah, she probably clung to these verses for dear life, “Surely He has borne our sicknesses and our pains…He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was on Him; and with His wounds we ourselves are healed.” (Isa. 53:4-5 Mas Text)

However, I am sure one Scripture stood out in her mind, “In those days…men…shall take hold, and will seize the skirt of a man, a Jew, saying, Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.” (Zech. 8:23 Mas Text)

Now, here was this Man called Yeshua, as the fulfillment of all the Scriptures. And “She said within herself, If only I shall touch His robe, I will be cured.” (Matt. 9:21 Received Greek Text)

So, she went into the streets searching for Him and found Him surrounded by a mob of people. Others in the crowd pressed into Jesus’ presence with their flesh, but this woman pressed into His presence with her faith.

Many images suggest that the woman crawled in the dirt to touch Jesus’ hem, but if she had, she would have been trampled to death. I wanted to title this: She Did Not Crawl in the Dirt! You’ll see why in a second.

People sometimes forget Jesus was Jewish, and He would have been following His Jewish heritage by wearing His traditional tallit or prayer shawl. According to the Code of Jewish Law, “Severe is the punishment of the one who neglects the performance of the Divine Command in putting on the tzitzit.”

God commanded the Israelites to make fringes or tassels on the corners of their garments that they would look upon them to remember all the commandments. The Hebrew word for fringe is tsiytsith or tzitzit. It also means a wing-like projection, a tassel, etc. Corners also means an edge, border, skirt, wing, etc.

The hem on the tallit was/is not as we know hems today. It was/is not just the end of the fabric turned under and stitched in place. The Greek word for fringe is kraspedon, which is translated hem and also means tassel, border, edge, skirt, etc.

There were/are strict rules for the construction of the knots and windings that made up (and still make up) the fringe. A tallit was/is treated with extreme respect; therefore, Jesus’ tallit would not have been dragging in the dirt. That would have been a disgrace.

Trembling, the woman flung her hand out, grasping the hem/fringe of Jesus’ garment. Immediately, Jesus stopped in His tracks, halted by a release of His power from her grasp of faith.

The Matthew account says, “But turning and seeing her, Jesus said, Be comforted daughter; your faith has healed you. And the woman was healed from that hour.” (Matt. 9:22 RGT)

The healing in His wings, in His fringe? In the making of the tallit, there were/are 39 windings of the fringe. Jesus received 39 lashings of the Roman whip for our affliction, for our healing!

When we realize the significance of the concept of the fringe to the early Hebraic mind, it becomes evident why this woman was instantly healed.

Are you a part of the crowd, just brushing up against Him, or are you seeking Him in the midst of all that’s going on around you? Does your faith press into His presence for all you need?

When health disintegrates, when money dissipates, when friends disappear, when the church and family disown you, what’s left? Your source of all the rest is Jesus and clinging to the fringe of His garment.

Jesus still comes today, in your direction, within your reach. He is passing by you today. Will you merely bump into Him, hoping something rubs off Him and onto you?

Or will you get close enough to reach out in faith to touch Him, to be made whole? Ask yourself: What will happen if I touch His hem?



*On Monday, joining up with...

“We shall devote ourselves whole-heartedlyto prayer and the ministry of the Word.”Acts 6:4 Phillips
Solomon warned, “Through lowering of hands, the house leaks.” (Eccl. 10:18 Masoretic Text, emphasis mine) This slackness applies not only to our physical house but to our spiritual house as well. According to the definitions, if through inactivity, negligence, or idleness, we lower our hands from lack of prayer and praise, then the house begins to weep.

So, whose house is leaking? Whose house is weeping? Our house? Our child’s house? Our friend’s house? Our neighbor’s house? Our nation’s House?

On the mount of victory with hands of surety uplifted into the air, Moses’ spoke prayers and praises and Israel prevailed against the enemy. When he lowered his hands, the enemy prevailed.

In our prayer efforts, let not the knees go unbent nor the hands weaken in lifting praise that the enemy not defeat us in our battles. Others need us to pray for them. As the Amplified puts it in Hebrews 12:12, “So then, brace up and reinvigorate and set right your slackened and weakened and drooping hands and strengthen your feeble and palsied and tottering knees.”

The Holy Spirit is our partner in prayer; He “comes to our aid and bears us up in our weakness; for we do not know what prayer to offer nor how to offer it worthily as we ought, but the Spirit Himself goes to meet our supplication and pleads in our behalf.” (Rom. 8:26 Amp)

Over which house is the enemy prevailing? Have you raised your hands to pray to stop the leaking, to stop the weeping?

Raise your hands, raise your hands and be sure!




Imperfect Prose


Reflections of His Grace

They want to leave it all behind; take the road out of it all. So, the two men depart from the hills of Jerusalem to get away from all the reminders of a heartrending crucifixion on the hill of Golgotha. Just as the road slopes down from Jerusalem, so their souls now slope down, reeling from dashed hopes of an empty tomb.

With the Sabbath now past, the two men somberly amble their way to the village of Emmaus, just a little more than seven miles away.

One would think that the crisp, clear sky, the warm afternoon sun, and the aroma of spring buds in the air would revive their souls. Not so.

In their attempt to leave behind the pain and disappointment, they find they yet carry the heartache with them: the lashings of punishment strike at their emotions; the nails of hatred pierce their hearts; the thorns of a mocking crown penetrate their thoughts.

Numb from it all, Cleopas and his friend stroll along the way discussing the dreadful events of the past few days and try to make sense of it all.

“Passover will never be the same. No Passover lamb can ever be eaten with the same savor; the herbs will be much more bitter; and the bread, oh, the bread of brokenness.”

A stranger comes from behind to join them and interrupts their conversation. “You seem to be in a deep discussion. What concerns you so?”

They abruptly stop. A look of bewilderment blankets their faces.

“Are you a stranger in Jerusalem? Do you not know the things that happened there these last three days?” asks Cleopas.

“What things? What has happened?”

They recall to the stranger all the anguish: the judgment, the whipping, and the crucifixion of an innocent man named Jesus.

Cleopas says, “We thought He was the glorious Messiah come to rescue Israel.”

The other man says, “Some women from our group of His followers were at His tomb early this morning and rushed to tell us that His body was gone; the tomb was empty! And they also saw angels who told them Jesus is alive! Some of our men ran out to see, and, indeed, Jesus’ body was gone, just as the women said.”

“But we did not see Him,” sighs Cleopas. “We did not believe the report, so we left the city.”

“Do you not understand?” the man asks them. “Are you so slow to believe what the prophets wrote in the Scriptures? Didn’t they predict that the Messiah would have to suffer these things before He entered His time of glory?”

The stranger attempts to rekindle their embered hopes by quoting them the prophets, starting with the book of Genesis and going through the Scriptures, explaining what they meant.

Listening so intently to what the stranger says, the men do not realize they have reached the outskirts of the town. The man acts as if he is going on but they beg him to stay.

“Stay and have supper with us. It’s nearly evening; the day is done.”

Agreeing to go with them, he joins them as they head toward their lodging place. As they sit down at the table for their meal, the man takes the bread, blesses it and breaks it, giving a portion to each one.

Suddenly, the veil of obscurity vanishes from their eyes and they recognize him! It is Jesus Himself! And at that moment, He disappears from their sight.

“It was Jesus! It was Jesus!” they both shout.

So exhilarated, they begin to remind each other of their Emmaus walk, “Didn’t our hearts burn as He talked with us along the way and opened up the Scriptures for us?” Grasping it all, their hearts blaze again with the Emmaus heartburn.

And so it is with us as we travel the road of life and leave behind the pain not only of the past at the foot of the cross but also of the tomb emptied of hopes and dreams, for our hearts cannot stay at the site of death and resurrection. We must take that daily, life-road walk, and, as we do, we find Jesus walking with us in fellowship every step of the way.

As we walk with Him, talk with Him, invite Him to be our guest, and spend time with Him, sharing the Bread of the Word, the true unveiling comes, and, we have a celebration of revelation.

May your heart be set ablaze with His presence, as with the Emmaus heartburn.

Standing over the blistering heat of the fire, as sweat trails down his dirty face, the smith fans the blazing flames with his bellows. As he finishes the hammer he is working on, he gives it a thorough check, making sure it will meet the critical eye of the centurion. As a smith for the Roman army, all his work goes into the hands of the soldiers.

After the centurion picks up the ready tools from the smith and approves them, he sets out to deliver them to his soldiers. On his way, he gives the hammer to one of the best soldiers under his command. The soldier’s use of the hammer this day? Crucifixion duty.

The soldier has endured the burden of this duty before. He hates this gruesome task.

Under the strain of this assignment, he ambles his way to skull hill, better known as Golgotha, where he joins the centurion and the other three soldiers already there. Standing there chatting with them, he hears that three prisoners are coming to be crucified. One of the prisoners is his charge.

He waits.

Standing there, he realizes that what he is about to do is the antithesis of the weather: it is one of those breathtaking, spring days that warms and rejuvenates the soul. Rivulets of white stream across the azure sky. A gentle breeze distills the fragrance of the flowering blossoms into the air.

Yet, impending gloom hangs in the air.

A large, jeering crowd, intermingled with a great many mourners, moves toward the hill on the Via Dolorosa. Three men bent under the weight of their own crossbeam trudge their way up the hill. A short distance behind them is another man, whipped beyond recognition, stumbling with agonized effort every step of the way. So disfigured and injured that another man carries his crossbeam for him.

This bloodied mess of a man now stands before the soldier. He wonders: Who is this man? What could he possibly have done to deserve this horrible beating? Surely, he wasn’t a soldier for he wears no hobnailed boots; he’s merely an ordinary sandaled man.

Sweat beads up on the soldier’s forehead. His heart races. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

The other soldiers, now finished crucifying their two prisoners, help tie the soldier’s prisoner to the crossbeam while the soldier readies his nail-spikes and his hammer. He bends down, steadies the nail in one hand and draws back his hammer in the other hand.

But before he can bring it down on the nail, he glances over at the prisoner. Peering at him, through the streaks of blood covering his face from the thorny crown twisted onto his head, are eyes of piercing kindness he has never seen before.

The centurion yells the soldier’s name, startling him. “Get on with it!”

The soldier turns his head away to focus on the nail. He forces himself to do the job he was ordered to do. His stomach churns and he feels like retching.

Completing the nailing of this man to the crossbeam, he looks down to see that he is splattered with blood and his hammer drips with the red life of the man.

The other soldiers fasten the man to the upright beam and the crucifixion is finished. The soldier looks up as he hears the man say, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”

The soldier realizes now who this man is. Jesus. This is Jesus, the one everyone is talking about. Forgive? How can He forgive me for this horrid act?

He spins around as he hears the religious teachers and priests mocking this man on the cross. “He saved others, but he can’t even save himself! The King of Israel, is he? If he comes down from the cross right now, we will believe him! Let God rescue him now if he wants him, if he is the Son of God.”

One of the other criminals hanging next to this man Jesus says, “If You are the Christ, then save Yourself and us.”

But the other criminal rebukes him, “Don’t you even fear God as you’re dying? We surely deserve to die for what we’ve done, but this man? He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Turning to Jesus, he says, “Remember me when you enter your Kingdom.”

“Today, you will be with Me in Paradise.” Bowing His head, Jesus says, “It is finished! Father, I commit My Spirit to You.” And He breathes out His last breath.

“Surely, this was a righteous man,” says the centurion, shaking his head, and then solemnly orders the soldier to stand guard.

Stand guard? I just want to get out of here. What have I done? So distraught that he cannot bear to look up at the naked body of this man on the cross, he lowers his eyes to the ground. He notices the bloody hammer still in his hand. He throws it down and backs away in horror.

Shame overwhelms him. He falls to his knees in regret.

Another soldier picks up the hammer and tries to give it to him. “Here’s your hammer” is met only with silence and a stare. He won’t touch it.

The next morning, the centurion finds the soldier dead.

~The hammer that dripped blood? Had my name engraved on it.

“Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me;Buried, He carried my sins far away;Rising, He justified freely forever;One day He’s coming – O glorious day!”

~Thank You, Lord, for without Your suffering and death on the cross, I would have no resurrection joy!

~~In my joy, I agonized over this post. I know you understand why.


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Christianwriters.com on the topic of Joy. Please visit the other participants listed in the right sidebar.

“It was noised that [Jesus]was in the house.”(Mark 2:1 KJV)
Traveling about preaching the Good News, Jesus made a trip to Capernaum, as He needed a place to stay, for He had no place to lay His head. (Matt. 8:20 NIV)

The people heard that he had come home. (Mark 2:1 NIV) In those days, word of mouth was the internet of the day. Passing from one neighbor to another, the excitement grew as the news of His arrival spread quickly through the city. (Mark 2:1 TLB)

“Soon the house where He was staying was so packed with visitors that there wasn’t room for a single person more, not even outside the door.” (Mark 2:2 TLB)

Scholars say this was probably Peter’s house. Filled to capacity. Packed with those who loved Him. Crowded with seekers. Crammed with listeners.

What packs your spiritual house, your heart?

* Is it filled to capacity with all of Jesus, squeezing everything else out?
* Is it so packed with love for Him that it overflows to others?
* Is it crowded with thoughts of seeking Him?
* Is it crammed with listening to Him?

Has it been noised that Jesus is in your house?