Matthew 8:1-4 · The Man With Leprosy
We Know Exactly How You Feel, Jesus
Matthew 8:3, Luke 7:14, Luke 8:44
Sermon
by Frank Luchsinger
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Oh, Christmas has come and gone, but its scent lingers: spiced cider, evergreen, bayberry candles, cookies baking, popcorn, ham and scalloped potatoes, chestnuts roasting, and hot chocolate. Christmas has come, and its scent lingers: the aroma of newspaper casually read by a crackling fire or the smell of a new book received as a gift; pungent chemicals of instant pictures developing, or tempera paint on a homemade gift; play- dough, silly putty, gift perfume or cologne, shoe polish applied generously for a Christmas Eve shine. Christmas has come and its scent lingers.

In this season of angels, Paul proclaims that it is not with the angels that Christ is concerned but with men and women -- children of Abraham. "For surely it is not with angels that he is concerned, but with the descendants of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brethren in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God ..." (Hebrews 2:16, 17). Did he have to become Love Incarnate and be "made like his brethren in every respect" so that he could understand us? Or so that we could understand him?

A youth choir at a church was in rehearsal preparing a pageant which included some upbeat songs and choreography. One of the regulars in the group, Melissa, had brought a friend who was not catching on to the rhythm or the words. As sometimes happens, the regular had become focused on her own preparation and had forgotten about shepherding her friend. Also in the group was a boy named Cash Box because he always seemed to have money in his pocket, which won him favor with some. His social awkwardness and offensive banter, however, usually left his interpersonal balance sheet in the negative. As the rehearsal continued, Melissa's friend became more and more embarrassed, feeling clumsy and out of place. Finally she broke from the group. Down the hallway she fled, trying not to be noticed, pretending to read a bulletin board, flushed with tears, mortified, wishing she had never come. Soon footsteps approached from behind. It was Cash Box. The youth pastor edged closer to the scene, concerned over what Cash might say. "Hey, I saw you in there. Don't worry, this song's kinda hard; don't really know it myself. But we can't learn it standing out here. C'mon, let's go back in. You won't be alone. I know what it's like to be alone."

Sometimes we wonder: Do you know I'm alone, Jesus? Do you know exactly how I feel? Jesus taught that God cares for the lilies of the field and the birds of the air and that the hairs on our head are numbered in God's eyes. But how can we know God understands? That Christ understands? Because he became like us in every respect. He became like us in every respect ... that he might become merciful and faithful in the service of God. And ... he knows how we feel because he reaches out with a healing touch.

The Sunday school hymn "He Touched Me" was inspired by the many gospel stories of Jesus' healing touch. After the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus came down from the mountain, as great crowds followed him. And he was approached by a leper who said, "Lord, if you will, you can make me clean" (Matthew 8:2) and Jesus stretched out his hand saying, "Be clean." And immediately the man's leprosy was cleansed. Likewise as Jesus approached the city of Nain, Jesus and his disciples came upon the corpse of a dead man being carried from the city. He was the only son of his mother and she was a widow. Jesus passed through the large crowd accompanying the burial procession. And when he saw the widow, he had compassion and said to her, "Do not weep." And Jesus came and touched the bier and said, "Young man, I say to you, arise." And sitting up, the dead man began to speak (Luke 7:11-15).

Likewise a woman who for a dozen years searched for healing from a flow of blood came up behind Christ, and she touched him, touching his garment's fringe, and immediately the flow of blood ceased (Luke 8:43, 44). He touched the one who could not hear and could not speak. He touched the one born blind and he touched the children and blessed them.

But study these Bible stories and we learn that "touched" would more correctly be translated "held or grasped." He held the man with leprosy and holding him said, "Be clean." He grasped the one who was blind; he grasped the one who was born without hearing and could not speak. He held the children and blessed them. The woman with a twelve-year flow of blood grasped him, held him, and he said, "Take heart, daughter, your faith has made you well." Jesus, do you know how I feel? "Yes, my child, for I have touched you, held you, and I will hold you again."

But we are sometimes more like the child in a department store who absentmindedly reaches for a parent's hand and mistakenly grasps the hand of another, walking with the stranger a few steps then staring up with shock and astonishment at a surprised and unfamiliar face. We also absentmindedly take the hand of one who will lead us. Sometimes we walk hand in hand for an extended time until, on pathways severe and threatening, we look up startled to see we have taken our lead not from the Lord but from another. Or like Peter trying to traverse threatening water, losing his faith, beginning to sink, our voice cries out, "Lord, save me!"

"I have held you before and I will hold you again." We hear his words as he stops our sinking and pulls us back to life.

In this week at the close of the year, it is not unusual to feel that we have occasionally been led by a hand other than his hand down paths which he would not choose. So it is fitting to ask as the year draws to a close, "In the year to come, by whose hand will we be led; whose hand will we hold?" In this time after your birth, Jesus, we also ask, "How do you feel?" We want to touch you and be in touch with you. We want to hold you.

In that time long ago in the town of Jesus' birth a few came to witness and bless him at his nativity: shepherds, potentates, a few unnamed others. Did they, before they returned to their fields and flocks, and before they returned to their distant country by another way, bend to hold him? Did they lift him or stoop to touch him? Oh, what a moment in a shepherd's life to cradle the King of Glory! What a moment in your life and mine!

A few years ago a small church was hosting homeless families at Christmastime. It was nearly bedtime as the pastor wandered the hallways of the church in casual attire, visiting with the resident guests and volunteer hosts. He stopped at the church kitchen, which was often a gathering place, and found a dad just done drying his one-year-old son, softly patting him dry after a bath in the deep stainless steel sink. "Here, could you hold him for a moment?" he said, handing the pastor the towel-wrapped boy. "I'll be right back. I need to get his pajamas." Oh, how precious were his dark eyes and little hands. The pastor swayed gently with the little fellow as the babe reached up and felt the rough whiskers on the pastor's late-in-the-evening chin. He smells just like my son, he thought, just like God's son.

Oh, God, did you need to come into the world, did Jesus need to come so that you could understand us? (You know already how many hairs we have on our heads.) Or did you come, did he come so that we could understand you? Did he come so that he could hold us or did he come so that we could hold him? And he was made like his brothers and sisters in every respect that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God.

And if we held you, Jesus, how would you feel? Would you feel our love and devotion, our faithfulness and gentle care? Would you feel secure and well placed in our arms or pleased in the beginning time of your life? Oh, Lord, in these days, even in these times, how can we hold you in our love? Help us to receive well the ones who are placed in our hands and in our lives. Help us to value them and with listening hearts to comfort and calm. Let the children come, regardless of chronological age, and may it be as in the days of old, when you said, you were hungry and we fed thee, naked and we clothed thee, sick and imprisoned and we visited thee ... new in the world ... and we held thee. When we have done it to one of the least of these, you said, we have done it to thee.

Yes, we know exactly how you feel, Jesus, when we hold thee. We also know your fragrance. Oh, Christmas has come and the aroma of Christ lingers.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc, Moving At The Speed Of Light, by Frank Luchsinger