Dark Glass Ponderings

"Here was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a reverie of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that dirty gray turmoil to follow love and pride; a new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

My husband and I occasionally play a game we like to entitle "youtube" wars.  It generally involves us taking turns playing songs designed to evoke a reaction (usually groaning...as in my husband's Burt Bacharach and  Barry Manilow selections).  Tonight we wound up playing a few songs we remembered from my freshman year of college when we first started dating.  We mainly listened to secular music in those days although in the past decade this has become somewhat of a rarity.  I found myself feeling more depressed listening to the lyrics of these songs.  Depressed at the lack of hope.  Our generation has been described as hopeless, disillusioned. 

I love reading the "hopeless cases" of the world in the Bible.  People who God chose to use in spite of great personal failure.  Empty wombs and aching arms filled.  Miraculous healings.  Legions of demons removed.  Prostitutes, murderers, tax collectors...covered with the dredges of the world changed by his presence.

Tonight I'm thinking about the woman with the issue of blood in Matthew 9:20-22.  Even though we know God can do anything, sometimes that merely becomes our mantra.  How often do we lack faith in God's timing?  Yet after twelve years what hope must have been in this woman's heart.  Here she is venturing out into the public arena, disobeying the Levitical law.  What shame she must have been feeling.  I imagine like Job's friends many would have told this woman that her disease was because of her sin.  I can imagine those who knew her standing a distance away.  Maybe this was how she was able to get through the crowds.  I imagine the Pharisees amazed and astonished that this woman was even venturing outside let alone coming near Jesus.

As she came behind him I wonder if she was thinking what if he sees me.  I've heard that this man has done many great miracles.  He must be a great man.  Will he be angry at me for daring to approach?  One touch, one extended hand holding twelve years of hope.  Hope the world tried to kill by isolating her, by making her feel unwanted, unloved, ashamed. 

Then I think of Jesus turning around.  Did she try to hide in fear?  He tells her to be of good comfort.  I think of the physical pain that was likely involved in her condition.  I think of the emotional anguish.  I think of the hope that never dies.  To touch Hope and to be touched by Hope. 

Will you reach out and touch His garment of hope?