{Lessons Learned} Healing the Broken Places

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

I didn’t want to go digging around my past, but I knew I needed to. I knew some residual effects of my dad’s murder had to still be there. As I walked through some of the most difficult times in the weeks, months, and years following the murder, I remember thinking I sure hope this doesn’t screw me up.

My dad wasn’t married at the time of his death which meant that my brother, sister, and I were legally responsible for picking up the pieces when he died. Our extended family helped quite a bit––as much as they could, really, which I am so thankful for––but there was only so much they could do. My mom, however, was the backbone that held us all together, and I will forever be grateful to her for that. She played an integral part in the process of helping us wade through all the mess. (Thank you, Mom!)

Still, there were some things that my brother, sister, and I needed to take care of. No one could do it for us.

We were the ones who needed to put together the funeral arrangements.

We were the ones who needed to take possession of my dad’s house (which was where the murder took place) once the investigation finished.

We were, quite literally, the ones who cleaned up the mess that was left behind.

We navigated my dad’s estate through the legal process of probate, helped finish the construction of the home my dad was building for himself, got both homes ready to be sold, and sold them to their prospective buyers.

All the while, we were meeting with the District Attorney who was readying her case against Anthony and endured two and a half years of preliminary hearings leading up to the murder trial. Then, there was the trial itself, during which time my family and I sat for a week, day in and day out, listening to testimony after testimony, trying to avoid seeing pictures that might deepen the wounds, and hearing the defense attorney’s distortion of truth for the sake of winning his case.

This was also the time in my life that I was finishing up college, getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married, and beginning my career as a teacher.

Truly, it was a crazy time in my life!

But after about three years, things seemed to settle down and come to a close. Justice was served and the estate was settled. And that was it. I feel like I was suddenly thrown into chaos, but at the end of three years, it all abruptly ended, and my life began to resemble a “normal” life once again.

I tried to put it all behind me. I tried to move on. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of the pain, it still remained. It wasn’t until I met Jesus years later that I was led to rummage through all my junk and was finally able to allow Jesus to heal what had been broken.

But it wasn’t easy. In fact, it was one of the most painful, difficult seasons in my life. When we ask Jesus to heal us, we must understand that healing can be painful.

Healing a broken heart requires that we allow God to bring us back to our most broken places, to the darkness of our soul in order to see and understand our situation anew.

But it’s painful. It’s like opening an old wound, digging into it, removing the shrapnel that was embedded years before, and closing the wound properly for the first time.

Once we heal, the scars remain. But one thing I’ve learned is that it is God’s intention to take those scars, turn them into our strengths, and use them for our good and the good of others to His glory.

He is, after all, our Redeemer. What an amazing God we serve!

{Healing a broken heart requires that we allow God to bring us to our most broken places.}

Question: In what area do you need healing? Have you experienced healing? Was your healing painful? Share in the comments.

To read more about my process of healing, read {Lessons Learned} Healing Comes With Greater Understanding.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} Do You Need Jesus to Forgive?

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

I had a feeling something was still there. Some residual scarring caused by my dad’s murder. In a way, I wanted to go there. Get it all out. Heal completely. But at the same time, I feared what would be found.

I sure hope I’m not really screwed up, I thought.

But I knew some soul work needed to be done. Digging would have to take place. And the root of whatever was left behind would have to be excavated and restored.

I tried to do this on my own for nine years after Dad died. I tried to “pick myself up by my bootstraps” and move on, reasoning that Dad would have wanted it this way. He wouldn’t want me to succumb to the wave of despair that threatened to swallow me whole.

So, I moved on. Each time the thought of Anthony came into my mind, I chose with precise deliberation to cast these thoughts aside.

I forgive him, I’d tell myself, knowing full well that I didn’t. I thought if I did this long enough, it would become my reality. It was the only way I knew how to move toward forgiveness, and I hoped this would allow me to shed the effects of my past.

Even the secular world tells us to forgive. “You must forgive and forget,” we’re told.

And, so we do. Or we think we do.

We will ourselves into believing that we’ve arrived at the desired destination. That we’ve forgiven.

I forgive Anthony, I told myself. I do.

Then, I became a Christian after completely falling apart. And I mean completely falling apart. I’ve written about this time before, but for our purpose here, I must tell you that I don’t think I would have gotten to this point of complete desperation and complete lack of hope had it not been for my unforgiving heart (The one I thought was forgiving, mind you).

So, there I was, a baby Christian, one year after surrendering my life to Christ when the call to forgive came. Quite frankly, I was surprised.

But I’ve already forgiven Anthony, came my rebuttal to God.

Soon, I learned that forgiveness––real forgiveness, that is––can only be accomplished through Jesus, the one who died to make forgiveness possible.

It’s the same with all things.

We cannot love, in the full sense of the term, without first receiving God’s love.

We cannot extend true mercy or grace without first receiving God’s mercy and grace.

So to, we cannot forgive, completely and unconditionally, without first receiving God’s forgiveness. [Tweet that]

It is Jesus who made forgiveness possible, and it is He who guides us onto our own path toward forgiveness. [Tweet that]

I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t think I can emphasize it enough. Forgiveness is a process. It is not something that occurs instantly. And it requires a decision to pray for Jesus to guide you toward that end.

So, I encourage each of you to take another look at your life. Take another look at you relationships. And prayerfully assess whether or not you hold unforgiveness in your heart. And if you do, I implore you to seek God and forgive.

Forgiveness will set you free. [Tweet that]

Remember, forgiveness begins with prayer. [Tweet that] Pray for God to lead you toward freedom today.

{Forgiveness is only possible through Jesus.}

Question: Has God been showing you unforgiveness in your heart? Who do you need to forgive? How have you tried to forgive apart from God? Share in the comments.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} Healing Comes With Greater Understanding

Posted on March 23, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

In this brief video, I speak about how Jesus led me toward emotional healing from my past. Healing only came once I surrendered myself completely to Jesus and allowed Him complete access to my pain. Be sure to watch to hear about how Jesus brought me greater understanding which led to healing.

Healing Comes With Greater Understanding from Laurie Coombs on Vimeo.

{Greater understanding of the situations in our past can lead us toward healing.}

Question: Has Jesus healed you emotionally from your past? What was your experience? Share in the comments.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} No Sin is Justifiable: How Anthony Stopped Justifying Murder

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. – Ephesians 4:26-27

There is always a reason behind the sins we commit.

There is a reason I sometimes lose it and yell at my kids.

There is a reason I find myself rooting through my pantry, looking for something to fill me (though I’m not hungry), when I should be going to Jesus to be filled instead.

And there was a reason I stood in condemnation of Anthony, the man who murdered my dad, unable to forgive him for a decade.

Honestly, there are times when the reasons behind our sins seem legitimate. Sometimes our kids need to be disciplined. Sometimes we need to be filled. Sometimes we have been wronged.

The feelings we feel are legitimate. Sometimes, for example, we should be angry about the sins and atrocities committed in this world, for they anger God, and the anger we feel is what’s called righteous anger. But still, we must not sin regardless of whether or not there is a reason to.

No Sin is Justified

A couple weeks ago, I said all sins are forgivable, and this is true. All sin is forgivable, but ultimately, no sin is justifiable.

This issue was discussed extensively with Anthony during our correspondence. There was a reason Anthony killed my dad. And at one point, things got pretty heated as we discussed just that.

I felt Anthony was justifying the murder, saying that in some way he was justified to kill my dad because there was a “reason” behind what he did. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit well with me.

Anthony wrote:

I am in here with people who killed someone for no reason, or drugs or killed 2 people and have less time than me. I don’t think that’s justice. I am sorry.

We were discussing his sentence––life without the possibility of parole––which I believe is just for his crime. And when I read his words, I was set on fire. I responded and said,

…while you have said that you will “forever be sorry for what [you] did and how [you] hurt [my] family,” your last two letters seemed to indicate that you’re justifying your actions by claiming you had a “reason” for killing my dad. While I will never dispute the fact that my dad made some mistakes, there is absolutely no justification for what you did, and the fact that you had a “reason” for committing murder doesn’t make your actions any more or less of a crime.

Even though Anthony apologized for murdering my dad, I felt he was trying to justify his behavior. He, of course, didn’t see it that way. Anthony wrote back:

I have never said I had a “reason” for killing your dad but you wanted to know what led up to that day, what was my emotional state and such. I felt it was safe to give you an overview of the stuff leading up to it. This also seems to have been misconstrued as justification, not so.

Even though he maintained that he was not justifying his behavior, he repeatedly pointed to the actions of others involved, essentially saying, yeah I did it, but look what they did. When all I wanted to hear was, I did it. I am sorry. Period.

To Anthony’s credit, I asked him a lot of questions about the circumstances leading up to the murder. And he willingly gave me his perspective, which I am thankful for because it allowed me to gain greater understanding, leading to further healing.

Still, it felt as though he was using his “reasons” to justify taking my dad’s life. In my eyes, he was remorseful, but not yet repentant.

Months passed, and I was given grace to forgive despite Anthony’s justification. But then, I watched as Jesus began to change Anthony’s heart.

Two years later, Anthony wrote:

I needed to own what I did. I murdered a man. I did it…. I wanted to feel justified in what I did because the alternative was to hate myself, but when Laurie forgave me, she allowed me to forgive myself. I could also go to God humbly and ask his forgiveness. And God is so faithful, so I know I am forgiven.

Isn’t that why we all justify our sin? It’s difficult to live with ourselves once we come to understand that there is no one to blame but ourselves. Yet, there is comfort to be found in the forgiveness of God, which can be seen in Anthony’s story.

When we see his story, we see the power of God at work. God took an unrepentant murderer whose only option was to justify his behavior to escape self-loathing, and he transformed him by his grace. Jesus showed Anthony the Gospel. And Anthony finally came to a place of repentance and healing, as his excuses fell to the ground.

Through this process, both Anthony and I were shown that while the circumstances leading to sin can certainly bring understanding, they are by no means justification for our actions.

{There is always a reason behind the sins we commit, but no sin is justifiable.} [Tweet that]

Question - Each of us have been tempted to justify our actions at one point or another. I now I struggle with this from time to time. How about you? Do you take full responsibility for your sins or do you tend to justify your actions or place the blame on others involved? Share in the comments.

To leave a comment, click on the link above. This will take you to the post where you can leave your comment at the bottom.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} We Are No Better Than Repentant Murderers

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

…all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God – Romans 3:23

You are no better than him, I felt the Lord say to me.

I was taken by surprise. Stunned, really.

I had just gotten another letter from Anthony, the man who murdered my dad. I was angry and was contemplating what Anthony wrote, while crying out to God, How could he? How could he think that? Why doesn’t he see the truth? Who does he think he is?

Then came the rebuke, You are no better than him.

I fell silent and was put in my place, instantly. All my judgement, all my condemnation came to an immediate and abrupt stop, and I knew––I am no better than the man who murdered my own dad. [Tweet that]

It was a difficult truth to swallow. Truths like these don’t usually sit well.

Perhaps it’s because we’re listening to the world, with all its corrupt conceptions of how things should work instead of turning to the Word of God, which tells us that we are all equally sinners in desperate need of grace and mercy. The difference is: some know it and others don’t. [Tweet that]

God Shows No Partiality

Truly, God shows no partiality between repentant sinners. Take a look at some of the most influential patriarchs of our faith:

Moses ran away from his privileged life in Egypt after killing one of Pharaoh’s men prior to being called and empowered to lead Israel out of Egyptian slavery.
David committed adultery with Bathsheba, impregnated her, then had her husband placed on the front line of battle to ensure he would be killed, yet God still calls Davis a man after His own heart and used him mightily.
Paul sought after and personally oversaw the murder of several early Christians prior to being saved, transformed, and called to spread the Gospel to much of the world.

Talking a close look at the record of these men and others who were used mightily for the Kingdom of God brings the truths of 1 Corinthians 1:26-29 to light. It says:

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong;God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are,so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.

It is quite likely that if you are saved, you were once foolish, weak, lowly, or despised. We all come before Christ as beggars, poor in spirit, and in desperate need of redemption. [Tweet that] We are all equally guilty of sin before a Holy God.

Yet, the moment we come to Christ by faith, we are all washed clean. There is no distinction. My cleanliness is no better than Anthony’s. Once again, this is the beauty and scandal behind the forgiveness of God.

{We are no better than repentant murderers.}

Which of God’s truths do you have difficulty swallowing?

Share in the comments.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} All Sin is Forgivable (Except Blasphemy Against the Spirit)

Posted on March 7, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

“Truly, I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the children of man, and whatever blasphemies they utter, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin” —Mark 3:28-29

For years, I didn’t want to think that the man who took my dad away could experience any joy in this life, let alone be forgiven by God and go to heaven. Yet, I was blinded to the ways of God at this time and didn’t have a proper understanding of sin.

All sins will be forgiven for those who place their trust in Jesus. Not just the sins that seem small in our eyes. All. Yet there is one offense, Jesus tells us, that is the exception––blasphemy against the Holy Spirit (attributing the work of the Holy Spirit to Satan––see Mark 3:22-27), which He calls an eternal sin. All other sins, however, are forgivable through His death.

Sin and Forgiveness

Sin is no light matter, indeed. But when we claim that certain sins are unforgivable by God (apart from the one He deemed unforgivable) we hold a small view of the power of God’s forgiveness, and quite honestly, we fail to see the gravity of our own sins.

Once we see the depths of our sin, how filthy and horrible it is, and how it breaks the heart of God, our Father, we come to understand that all sin is detestable. Little sins and greats sins alike.

Sin is sin (I’ll get into that more later). No sin is better than any other, for they are all a product of our rebellion against a good and holy God. An attempt to live life apart from our Creator, which is folly.

But the most beautiful part of salvation is that despite our rebellion and our sin, we have a merciful God who is willing to forgive if we only come to Him. [Tweet that] This is the beauty we see in the cross. Jesus willingly laid His life down to provide a way back to God, a way to be forgiven.

This is love.

We need to come to the point that we can see the depths of our own sin and guilt before the God. Then, and only then, can we begin to understand God’s forgiveness, amidst all its scandalousness and beauty.

{Jesus died for every sin––including murder. [Tweet that]}

What are your thoughts?

Leave a comment.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

A New Creation: The Old Has Passed Away

Posted on March 3, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

While at a holiday party a few months ago, I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in quite some time. We were roommates in college (while Travis and I were dating) and were living together at the time of my dad’s death. He knew me pretty well back then, but after graduating from college, we saw each other only occasionally and lost touch.

I sat down next to him at the party, and before I knew it, he asked me about my writing. “I heard you’re writing,” he said. “What do you write about?”

The last time I talked with him, I wasn’t even a Christian yet (nor is he a Christian now). I knew my answer would not be what he’d expect.

I told him how I became a Christian. How I was given the proof and grace I needed to believe in Jesus. And how Jesus called me to love and forgive Anthony, the man who murdered my dad. And what God did through my journey toward forgiveness and the two and a half years of correspondence with Anthony.

He looked at me, mouth open, not knowing what to say. “Uh…wow, Laur. That’s crazy.”

“Yea. It is,” I said. “It’s amazing what God’s done in my life.”

Then after a moment, he said, “you know…the old Laurie would have just told Anthony to f*** off.”

I have to admit, I was a little surprised by this comment. But he was right. “You’re right,” I told him. “That’s exactly what I would have done. But I’m different now.”

He looked at me and simply nodded.

I am different now. Very different.

How thankful I am for grace.

A New Creation

When Jesus saves us, we literally become a new creation––we are born again. Second Corinthians 5:17 tells us, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

We don’t need to live out of our old selves. The old has passed away. But instead, being a new creation, we live by the spirit which allow us to be different and empowers us to follow Jesus radically wherever He may call. [Tweet that]

Our new nature compels us to die to ourselves and be something different, something the world stands in awe of and can’t quite figure out. We can love like never before. We can forgive others like never before. We can reconcile relationships like never before. And we can allow Jesus to shine though our imperfect lives to those around us, bringing others to know and love Him.

This is how I want to live.

This is how I want you to live. Imagine how the world would change if Christians––ALL Christians––lived like this.

{Our new nature compels us to die to ourselves and be something different, something the world stands in awe of and can’t quite figure out.}

What has Jesus changed in you that is apparent to those who knew you before coming to Christ?

Leave a comment.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

The Question

Posted on February 11, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

This weekend, my girls asked me how my dad died.

I knew this question would come at some point, and I suppose now is as good a time as any. But it’s still a crummy thing to have to tell your children.

My dad died five years before my oldest daughter was born. Neither one ever knew him.

They know he is my daddy. They know he is Grandpa, but I can’t help but feel that he’s only that guy in the pictures Mommy talks to them about. I hope I’ve given them a sense of who He was, and that he would have loved them. But it’s difficult for children to “get” something like that.

He would have been an amazing grandpa.

I was cooking dinner when the conversation came up. “How did he die?” Ella, my seven year old, asked.

I’m a strong believer in telling my children the truth. They know if they ask Mommy a question, they’re going to get the truth––in an age appropriate way, of course––but they’ll hear the truth, nonetheless. Still, how do you talk to children about something as terrible as murder?

“Well…girls, Grandpa Rick was killed…by another man,” I said willing myself not to get emotional.

A look of confusion crossed each of their faces. “But why would someone want to kill him?”

“The man who killed him was really mad at him, and he chose to do something really, really bad,” I told them. “His name is Anthony.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of someone called that before,” said my five year old, Avery.

“Yea. And he’s in prison. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s where Satan is,” Avery said.

“Well, no it’s kinda like jail. Do you know what that is?”

Ella jumped in. “Yes, it’s a place they put people who do really bad things.”

“That’s right. But do you know what?”

“What?”

“It is so, so sad and so horrible what happened to Grandpa Rick, but…God has done good things with this horrible thing that happened.” They both looked at me, quizzically. “You see, God takes our bad things and turns them into good things. God changed the man who killed Grandpa Rick. He now knows and loves Jesus. And guess what he’s doing in prison? He’s telling other people about Jesus, and they may come to know and love Jesus too. That’s a good thing!”

“But how long will he be there?” asked Ella.

“Anthony will be in prison for the rest of his life,” I said.

“And then we’ll get to see him in heaven!” said Avery.

“That’s right.”

“And Grandpa Rick too!”

“Yes, honey. Jesus saved Grandpa Rick right before he died. But that’s not all God did to make this bad thing good. He also changed Mommy. He saved me, too. And you know how I write now?” They nodded their heads. “Well, God told me to write about what He did, to tell others about what He can do in their lives.”

Just about that time, I could tell that was all I needed to say. They got it. Well, as much as a five and seven year old can get something complicated like this.

They finally knew.

While the conversation went well, I still couldn’t help but think well, that sucked. You’ll have to excuse me for my candor, but it just did. It sucked.

I miss my dad. And I hate that he’s not a part of my children’s lives.

But still, instead of wallowing in what I don’t have, I choose to see what God has done through his death and press on, making myself available to be used by God as He continues to use this testimony for His glory and the good of myself, my dad, and my family.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for redemption.

{Choose to see God’s redemption and grace.}

Have you ever had to answer a tough question?

Join the discussion. Leave a comment.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

{Lessons Learned} Jesus Accomplishes the Impossible

Posted on January 31, 2013 by Laurie Coombs

But he said, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” – Luke 18:27

When we follow Jesus, He accomplishes the impossible. [Tweet that]

Lord, I pray for Anthony. Help him. Have your will be done in his life, and please, Lord, if he is truly a Christian let him be used by you in prison to turn lives around for your glory. Let him gather your people to you in prison! Lord, help him truly submit to you and your will and help him to be a true strong believer who turns from evil to your light.

- My prayer journal, May 2010

I prayed this prayer often as I began correspondence with Anthony, the man who murdered my dad. I prayed for Anthony to come to true repentance. For him to be brought to his knees and to transform him into a strong man of God who gained influence within his prison walls for Christ.

I knew Jesus could do it, but I have to be honest, I didn’t anticipate the power these prayers would have on both my destiny and that of Anthony’s. (If you have yet to read about what God did through our correspondence, read here or here, among many other posts.)

Jesus does the impossible in our lives.

You may find yourself to be surrounded by one of life’s storms right now.

Maybe you are late on your mortgage, and you don’t know where you’ll come up with your next payment.

Maybe you were laid off, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t find another job.

Maybe your marriage is in shambles, on the verge of divorce, and you don’t know how to get back to that place you once were.

Maybe you’re struggling with addiction or another stronghold, and you can’t seem to escape from the shackles that weigh so heavy upon your soul.

Maybe you’ve experienced loss––a loss that threatens to crush your soul––and you cannot imagine ever feeling whole again.

Maybe you have lost hope and find yourself to be in the dark place of depression, and you don’t know how to climb out of the pit, back to where the sun will shine upon your soul once again.

Maybe you’ve received a bad report from your doctor, and you are in a place of utter despair, anxious about the uncertainty of your future.

Whatever your situation may be, know this:

Jesus is your answer. He’s calling to you, beckoning your soul to draw near. He tells us, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). As Luke 18:26 states, all things are possible with God. So no matter how bleek your situation my seem, know that we serve the God of impossibilities.

(For those of you who find yourselves to be in a relatively calm season of life, be sure to store this truth. The storms of life are sure to come. Ready yourself with truth.)

{Jesus accomplishes the impossible.}

Have you experienced Jesus accomplish the impossible in your life?

Join the discussion! Leave a comment.

To read more about my journey toward forgiveness, read Freedom Through Grace or {Redemption} Your Testimony May Have Saved a Life.

Will You Press Through to Get Into the Presence of God?

Posted on December 20, 2012 by Laurie Coombs

There is an account found in three out of the four gospels. It is the story of a woman who endured a discharge of blood for twelve years. One thing we must understand is that a condition such as this rendered the woman “unclean.” She would have been a lonely woman, devoid of touch or much companionship at all.

Come with me for a moment and imagine….

You are this woman.

You cannot touch others, and others cannot touch you. You’re outcasted. Desperate, you spend all your financial resources going to doctors. One after another. But they’re no help. Instead of seeing improvement, you only worsen.

Can you relate to this woman in any way?

Quite possibly, in some area of your life, you need help. You seek help––help that promises a solution to your problem––only to find yourself right where you began, or perhaps even behind a step or two.

Another solution is presented to you.

You find enough hope to take that step. You join another program or see another doctor which will hopefully lead you toward health, wholeness, satisfaction (whatever it is for you). But a few months later, you’re, once again, right where you began.

But then there’s news of this guy. He sounds pretty awesome. Perhaps He can help me, you think. There’s talk around your village that He’s passing through.

If only, you think.

If only you could see Him. Touch Him.

No. Your hope is greater than that.

This guy, some say, is the One. If only you could touch the edge of His garment. Then. Perhaps then, you would be healed. You would be free of this burden weighing heavy upon your shoulders.

You go out and see Him pass by.

Hope fills your heart like never before, and you know. All you need is Him.

But there’s a crowd. A large one, pressing in all around. How will you ever manage to get through?

You’ll have to press in all the more.

But along the way, you touch others––making them unclean––as you strive to reach your goal. And then, you’re there.

You see Him.

Reach out.

And touch the edge, just the edge, of His garment.

In an instant, you know. You’ve been healed. You feel it, and you’re filled with joy and relief.

But then, the Man turns around. “Who was it that touched me?” the man asks.

“It wasn’t me,” you join the crowd in saying.

“Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you.” A men explains.

“Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.”

Knowing you won’t be hidden for long, you come forward. Trembling and falling down before Him, you explain your condition and tell of your healing. You’re afraid, for you have just done what ought not to be done. You touched others. But ultimately, you touched Him.

You look up, anticipating rebuke, but are met with compassion instead. ”Your faith has made you well; go in peace,” He says.

…

Oftentimes, we fail to see Jesus as the answer. But ultimately, it’s not what He can do for us that we need most. We seek Him for our needs, and He invites us to do so, but ultimately we are most in need of His presence. We need Him. It was His presence that made this woman well.

Coming to Jesus doesn’t mean He will heal all our diseases. It doesn’t mean our lives will become easy. Sometimes, by His providence, He allows certain conditions to remain. But coming to Jesus––into His presence––daily does mean we will be right where we ought to be. And from this place, all other things fall into place.

When coming to Jesus, you must be aware, however, that there will be hinderances, but my question to you today is this: Will you press through to get into the presence of God?

If you do, you will find yourself right where you ought to be.

{Press through. Jesus is your only hope. Your only salvation.}