Touch Someone

As Jesus finished his sermon from the Mount, a man who was completely covered in leprosy came to Jesus. He had made his way through the crowd and fell on his face before Jesus and spoke these words,

"Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean" (Luke 5:12).

The lot of a leper was summed up in Leviticus 13:45-46, stating that the leper must stay away from the general population, but if he ever did come close, he must follow the rules. He must have his clothes torn, his hair unkempt, his face covered and cry out “Unclean! Unclean!” Thus giving the people a chance to get away from him.

What humiliation and isolation belonged to the life of a leper. Just imagine for a moment that you are a leper and that these rules exist today. Picture yourself entering a crowded store and crying, “Unclean, unclean.” What sense of worthlessness and uselessness and despair we would all feel in such a moment.

The leper wondered if Jesus would be willing to heal him, but he didn’t have to wait long to hear Jesus’ answer because he was filled with compassion at the sight of the poor man. Jesus reached out his hand and touched him and said “I am willing, be clean” and immediately the leprosy left him (Luke 5:13).

Jesus’ touch said to the man “I care, I love you, and I want to help you.” Perhaps it had been many years since the leper had been touched in a meaningful way by anyone who was not a leper. Those watching must have been shocked, but the leper felt God’s love.

Margarita was an attractive young woman with long black hair who appeared to be happy. But at twenty-three years of age she doused herself with gasoline and lit a match to her flammable clothes.  The flames instantly scorched her hair and left her body charred beyond recognition and barely alive.

I had just seen her the night before in the church where I preached. After that service she went home where an argument between her and her siblings escalated. They were hostile toward her ever since her conversion to Christ. She left the house extremely upset and eventually resorted to take her life in this unbelievable way.

When I walked into her hospital room, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She looked like some horrible creature from a nightmare.  Her swollen head was twice its normal size.  Her nose was gone and there were only slits where her eyes and mouth used to be.  The sheet that covered her was fastened in such a way so that nothing touched her terribly burned body.  She cried with excruciating pain. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony she was suffering.

Her first words to me that day I saw her were, “Pastor Boyd, will God ever forgive me for what I have done?” I responded, “Margarita, let’s pray, and God will forgive you right now.” We prayed, and even there in her pain she felt the comfort of God’s forgiveness.

Over the next few weeks she lingered on, but grew progressively worse until she died. Not once did her family ever come to see her, and when she died, her family didn’t claim her body, so we gave her a funeral.

Although this tragedy happened many years ago, its impact has never been forgotten in my life. It has helped me realize that there are always people who feel like outcasts and who live on the brink of despair. It has made me depend more on the Holy Spirit to see the people who need to be touched.