The Flow of Power

She was still in pain. It wasn't just a normal foot injury or a scratch on the arm, but more like a constant pang that was ripping apart her insides. She had been bleeding for over twelve years and no one could figure out how to stop it. For a woman, bleeding like this was embarrassing enough, not to mention the fact that it was continuous. Most people could deal with a sickness, if it was just a short-term ailment; but, this was insurmountable.

"I'm not allowed to go out in public," she thought, knowing that she had been banned to solitude. She was considered "unclean" by the religious standards of her time, so touching anyone was an unthinkable act. No family. No children. No visitors. Just unclean.

"But, if I cover my face," she considered, "I can possibly worm my way through the crowd and go unnoticed." Wrapping her shawl over her head to cover her face, she silently slipped into the street and closed her door behind her. The crowd was in an uproar, because He was among them and He was always fascinating the people in town. She had also heard, through the gossip spoken loudly outside of her window, that He was leaving to go and help some religious leader in another town. "Now is my chance. He's leaving and I may never get another opportunity to get close."

She had heard the Law read aloud when she was younger and remembered the way that people spoke about the tassels. She had already considered who He was and believed that He was greater than those that wore the tasseled garments. So, it must be the same with His garment. "If I just touch His clothes," she thought, "I will be healed."

The crowd was thick, but she was more determined than ever. With a hope that she had never before expressed, she shoved her arms between the people at the back. These people were not going to keep her back. The doctors had failed her, the family she knew and loved was not allowed to see her, and she had been cast aside as unwanted material. With renewed vision, she set herself against the crowd that was pushing in around her.

She gasped when she saw Him. He didn't look very stately, but there was a power about Him that shocked her even at that distance. "It's Him," she thought. "It really is Him. I would recognize the Anointed One anywhere." And with a fire that mirrored His radiating power, she reached down and just caught the bottom part of His garment.

The power surged through her, as if it was a tidal wave capsizing a boat. She felt so small, so insignificant, and yet whole. She would have traded any of her meager possessions to feel that sense of completeness. Never before had she experienced peace like that washing over her in that moment.

And just as immediately as she had felt that tantalizing effect, she was filled with dread as He turned around and spoke, "Who touched my clothes?"

"Run," she thought. If He sees me, He will know that I was the one who stole His power. She was dazed and seemingly unaware that He was looking at her.

Quickly, one of his men asked, "You see the people crowding against you, and yet you can ask, 'Who touched me?'"

"How dare he say that to the Anointed One! If that man knew who He really was, he would not talk that way." But, it didn't matter, because He was staring into her eyes. She dropped her eyes as she fell to the ground at His feet. Knowing that she could not lie to this man, she blurt out, "I'm sorry Lord! I'm so, sorry! I shouldn't have done it, but I just longed to be made whole." At His request, she told Him her story, and why she had sought Him out.

His response was simple, but profound. "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering." The power resurged throughout her entire body. She felt it again. She felt Him, felt His presence. With a look that calmed the storm within her heart, He reassured her that she was His and that He had made her whole again.

There was a commotion at the back of the crowd, which stole His gaze from her. "Your daughter is dead," someone said. "Why bother the teacher anymore?"

Hearing what they had said, He responded, "Don't be afraid; just believe."

The Legend of the Zip Line

There are some that have a genuine fear of the outdoors. Others, it seems, cannot live without it. I, however, have grown accustomed to life in the city for a variety of reasons, only one of which I will share today.

Let me say at the onset that I am not opposed to the outdoors. It is just that I have been scarred beyond recovery and need to take it slowly...

Once upon a time...who uses this phrase anymore? I would've used something more appropriate, but couldn't think of a better intro. Once upon a time I went to church camp. As a general rule I went every year, but there were times of hardship during which my family could not afford to pay for it. During this particular incident I found myself thoroughly enjoying life as a teenager, expecting that camp would last forever and I would never have to return home only to attend another year of school.

We had already been participating in outdoor activities which included several team-building exercises. For those of you that have attended camp at some point in your life you know what I'm talking about. Everyone has to come together as a team in order to break down the barriers between us and become friends - that kind of stuff.

After the team-building exercises we were introduced to the zip line. Now - a zip line is a cable that has been strung from two points (generally trees) that allows the person to quickly "zip" or move through the air from the highest point to the other. This being the case, the zip line has to be set up in the air (definitely a few feet off of the ground) in order to accomplish the trick.

To start, I have a fear of heights. Some would call this acrophobia, but I just call it losing my stomach at the thought of falling from a height of more than 1 foot. So, to even look up at the zip line made my blood start to quiver. Actually...just thinking about the tall tree that would eventually spell my doom is starting to make my stomach turn.

Climbing to the top seemed like an eternity. It was a rope ladder that wouldn't stay still if my life depended on it. Who in their right mind would want to climb a waving tendril of death?? Once I got to the top, I was strapped in and given a couple of directions. Face forward, keep your feet in front of you, don't turn your back to the tree, when you get to the end, Scott will catch you. My guide also pointed out that there was a wooden block set in place to slow my momentum at the point of impact.

As we counted down from whatever arbitrary number seemed to please my guide at the time, I realized that my heart was racing. GO! And I jumped. And I lost my stomach. And I was pretty sure that if I hadn't gone to the bathroom beforehand, that I would've at that moment in time. Down I went. Because people were watching me, I thought I'd try to erase the fear that had left me clinging to the rope. Think good thoughts. Focus on the target.

You know, it's not as bad as one might thing. You just have to get used to the sensation of losing all control of your life and allowing nature to take its course. HA. Twisting...I'm twisting. What do I do? Just enjoy the ride. Wait - where's the tree? Oh - it's a ways off. Plus, there's the wooden block to slow my roll. Oh, and there's Scott on the platform, waiting to catch me.

Wooden block. OK - brace for impact. Contact with wooden block. Still sailing through. At this point in time everything around me slowed down to an eternity. It was like I could see the world around me in HD slow motion. Apparently the wooden block hadn't done the job, because I was still flying at the speed of...say a hawk intent on catching its prey. Oh wait, Scott can catch me.

Just passed Scott. Apparently I was going to fast for him to catch the rope and I slid right past. However, I could still see the shock on his face as I was looking at him rather than at my final resting place. The last thought that went through my mind before impact was, 'Don't forget to keep your feet in front of you.' I quickly tried to turn so that my back wasn't facing the tree that I was about to hit. I had about 2 feet to complete the twist.

Too late. My back was now coming in contact with the tree. More specifically, my back collided with a stub of a branch that had been cut off. Why someone would leave a foot left on the branch is beyond me, since that seemed to be the thing that had induced pain of the acutest kind. Not only had I met the tree with an incredible impact, but also all of my energy and momentum had been expended on that one branch. If you know anything about physics, you will understand the extent to which this would cause pain.

I slowly started moving back toward Scott who was waiting to catch me on the platform. He asked if I was OK, but I could only respond with, 'get me down, because I can't breathe.' He quickly unstrapped me from the zip line and laid me on the platform. At this point I felt as if a rib had been broken. At bare minimum I felt as if my heart had been punctured...OK, not exactly since it was the right side of my back, but close enough.

I remember people running to get the camp nurse. All of the sudden I see Phil running at breakneck speed to the platform. He doesn't even run like that for softball, so I knew that something was up. Once we found out that my skin hadn't even been punctured, I felt as if all of that pain was for nothing. No one would believe I was hurt if there was no blood. That's whack!

Unfortunately I had to spend the rest of the day (until dinner) under observation, because I couldn't bear the shame of being out in public. Who runs into a tree? Good grief, at the very least I could've put my feet out to stop my momentum, but NO - I had to do things the hard way.

The zip line has thus become a legend in my own mind. If not for that incident, I might not be as afraid of outdoor obstacle courses. But alas, I am what I am. For better or worse...probably the latter, not the former. I hope that you can draw insight from this story. When going on a zip line, please remember to look where you're going, and not where you've been...