For the woman who touched Jesus’ cloak it mattered.
The masses surrounded her, yet she fought the crowd and reached out her hand and touched Him.
Oh, how she must has fought.
Oh, how she must have longed to be Seen by Him,
Heard by Him,
Recognized by Him.
There He stood, surrounded by waves of awe, wonder, and acclaim – consumers wanting something from Him.
She touched Him, and in that moment,
He turned around, and
He looked at the woman.
Her hand reaching out. His cloak being touched.
With an imaginary sweep of His garment, He brought her into the fold of grace, likely for the first time.
She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, “Who was it that touched me?” When all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.” And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.” (Luke 8:44-48)
I fought my way through, reached out, and extended my hand to touch His cloak. With that touch, I was brought into the fold of grace.
Oh, how He delights in me.
Oh, how He delights in you.
We are just one soul in a sea of many, yet He delights even in us. you. me. when we reach out toward Him, fighting our way through the crowd and extending our hand with the greatest effort we can muster.
He delights in us, bringing us into the fold of grace.