Friday, April 29

Just the Right Touch

Christ healing the Woman with the Issue of Blood; Paolo VERONESE; 1565-70; oil on canvas; Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

“Somebody has touched me.” Luke 8:46

This incident in Jesus' ministry always gives me pause to think and adds not a little humor. Humor in the form of the ironic proceeds from the obvious manner in which this young woman finds healing. 
Leading us to the cross, He would show us that as Christ died for sin, so we must die to sin- and by the self-same instrument too. One real, believing sight of the cross of Jesus!- oh, what a crucifying power it has! Paul, standing beneath its tremendous shadow, and gazing upon its divine victim, exclaimed, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.” Get near the Savior’s cross, if you would accomplish anything in this great and necessary work of mortification.

The Spirit effects it, but through the instrumentality of the Atonement. There must be a personal contact with Jesus. This only is it that draws forth His grace. When the poor woman in the Gospel touched the Savior, we are told that multitudes thronged Him. And yet, in all that crowd that pressed upon His steps, one only extracted the healing virtue. Thus do multitudes follow Christ externally; they attend His courts, and approach His ordinances, and speak well of His name, who know nothing by faith of personal transaction with the Lord. They crowd His path, and strew their branches in His way, and chant their hosannas; but of how few can Christ say, “Somebody has touched me”!

Oh, let us have more personal dealing with the Lord Jesus. He delights in this. It pleases, it glorifies Him. He bids us come and disclose every personal feeling, and make known every need, and unveil every grief, and confide to His bosom each secret of our own. The crowd cannot veil us from His eye. He sees the poor and contrite; He marks the trembling and the lowly; He meets the uplifted glance; He feels the thrill of the gentle, hesitating, yet believing touch.

“Somebody has touched me.” Who? Is it you, my reader? (from Octavius Winslow)

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