Boldness to stop.

It's been a while since I've hit the blog site. To those who have been following faithfully, please forgive me. There's a reason for my absence. It's called avoidance. We all know that word, don't we?! God has been speaking to me about a subject that I have found too overwhelming to think about let alone write about. But I think it must be done. What follows below is the depth of my humanity.

I saw a man in the distance. He was walking toward me and I him. We were on a quaint back lane, one of many that sprawls my living area and provides a nice respite to the over-trafficked roads. There were many other passersby, but this man I spied from a great distance. He never saw me and I wish I could erase his sight from my memory. There was something different about him and it wasn't good. I looked to the ground and I urged myself to not look when we passed for I knew the pain would be too much to bear. "Don't look, don't look, don't look," I chanted. Despite my pleading heart, I looked the moment we passed. We were no more than inches apart. One misplaced step and I could have very easily brushed against him. I knew as soon as looked I should have stopped, but I quickened my pace as tears quickened from my eyes and my heart burst.

Here in Nepal, I daily encounter the disabled, the deformed, and the destitute. Daily I ask, "what do I do? How do I respond?" What do you say to a lame man with one eye who stretches out his hand? How do you respond to the leper who waits on the curb for a coin? What do you do when the hopeless reach out? I have no answers, but I have an abundance of tears. Like so many, I find it easiest to just go numb and pretend they're not there, to just walk by and look the other way. There are so many I sometimes find the only place to look is down. And I hate myself with every step.

Then there was this man. I wasn't going to look, but I did. Even though I looked, I didn't look at him, the man. I looked at his deformity. In doing so, I was forced to look at every disabled, deformed, and destitute soul that I've ignored for the past 2 months. Imagine with me now, as I did then, what it would be like to wear the ugliest parts of ourselves on the outside for all to see. The most grotesque and gruesome parts that we desperately hide in our closets. What if we wore these repulsive secrets on our faces? How would people respond? How would we feel? What if no one looked at us? What if disgust at the sight of us drove people to the other side of the street? What if no one dared to touch us and children cried in fear? Would we ask, "why me?"

Then I wondered: what would happen if I stopped? What would happen if I reached out a hand, touched, and prayed? What would God do?

Not many extend a hand to lepers, especially those begging on a street corner. But I think about Jesus and I think about what He did when He cleansed a leper in Matthew 8. The most powerful moment must have been in the touch. Jesus did more than pronounce the leper clean. He did more than stretch out His hand. Jesus touched. How long had it been since that unnamed leper felt the touch of another human being? How long had it been since that unnamed leper was given attention? He bowed before our Lord with a desire to be clean, but he rose loved, seen, and touched. Jesus did it. Jesus was willing, as the Word of God states. He stopped, He reached out His hand, He touched, He prayed, and God healed.

It was His willingness to touch that stirs me and convicts my fear and my shame for I can barely look in their eyes before I am consumed with tears. Where is the hope for these that are lost and wandering? I can't change the world. I can't make it a better place. I can't change circumstance. I can't save the lost and wandering. But I know what I can do: I can stop, I can touch, and I can pray. God, give me boldness to just stop.