The touch of another person can make all the difference in our lives. I can remember the hands of my parents from when I was little. Mom’s hands were smooth and soft. You could tell that she took care of them; though, they were not without their own callouses from hours of helping dad in the field. Mom’s hands were always self-sacrificing, they were healing, they were the gentle touch of love. They could not fix everything that was wrong with the world, but they let you know that no matter what, you were loved.
Dad’s hands were very different. I can recall sitting in our family’s church pew. Dad was on the outermost edge, then mom in the middle, and finally me to the left of her. I remember looking over at dad’s hands as his arm lay across her shoulders. He would have only been in his thirties at the time, and yet, to look at his hands, you’d think he was much older. They were large, dry, covered in callouses and stains that never seemed to wash away. They showed love in a different way. It was showcased in every cut, bruise, and stain that they acquired as he worked hour after hour in the shop, the fields, or the pastures, as he tried to scrape by a living for his family.
Hands come in so many different shapes, sizes, and conditions. Some are rough from labor others are smooth from pampering. Our hands have the ability to lift others up or to strike them down. Let’s look at the very special set of hands.
“A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, ‘If you are willing, you can make me clean.’ Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. ‘I am willing,’ he said. ‘Be clean!’ Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured.” - Mark 1:40-42 (NIV)
Jesus could have just as easily healed the man without touching him. In fact, in the eyes of cul-ture around him, Jesus was taking a big risk. Lepers were cast out of society, sent to live in their own colonies, so that they could not infect others. They were stripped from their homes and families, reduced, in most cases, to begging for a living. They were untouchable outcasts. The most important healing Jesus did for this man was not the curing of his disease, but rather, the restoring of his humanity.
I have never reached out and cured somebody of their ailments, but I do know that God has given our hands have the tremendous capability to mend tears and heal wounds within the very fabric of our neighbor’s humanity with a simple touch.
The only question is: would you reach out and touch the untouchable?