I just want to touch him.

And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

This Christmas has been busy. As a wife of one, mother of three, church planter, pastor, mid-grade house cleaner… this season has been markedly BUSY. After the pandemic, I swore to never complain about busyness - and I’m not. I like being busy. I love Christmas. The plays and pageants. The parties and celebrations.

But Sunday after preaching I came home and laid down. And wasn’t sure how to get back up. It wasn’t the busyness that had caught up to me. It was the lack of HIM that had left me empty… and emptying.

I cried most of Monday (today).

Not a “feel sorry for me” cry.

A “oh Jesus. My soul wants you again, and needs you again and misses you again.” The cry you feel as a prodigal right before you go home. The cry you have right before you dash into your Father’s arms.

Because this Christmas I need HIM.
His presence. Touch. Oversight. Guard. I really don’t need anything besides Him. I just need Him.

I stayed up late worshipping in my living room. And I saw Him. I thought I would share, in case it encourages you as you need Him too:

I see Him.

In a crowd.

His presence and joy leaking through the crowd like food dye. He is smiling, moving. He is making his way towards someone - intent. Purpose. The glow of him isn’t visible, but it’s there none the less. I see Him.

And I want to touch him.

But the practicalities of this dawn on me: is there time? Who am I to reach out? Perhaps I should try a more religious route.

But I decide no - I must reach for Him. Not just for his healing, although I KNOW I will be healed. I want to touch Him, because I know that when I touch Him I find myself again. I discover me in Him, I realize where my heart is located - it beats again and dreams again. I see his face and I know where we are going. We are going to the future He writes. We are going into the places He’s planned long ago. We are going into His space. Where he has prepared a table for me in the presence of my enemies.

And suddenly I wonder if the woman with the issue of blood wanted more than just a healing. She wanted HIM, and to be found with him. And reaching to touch him she knew, she’d find it all.

This Christmas may you worship in your living room. This Christmas may you reach for Him and find His glow unstoppable and your desire to be close insatiable. And may you decide to reach this Christmas.

And be healed. Filled. Known. Loved. Renewed.