Sometimes we just can't help ourselves. We are presented with a situation or something is said that triggers our emotional responses. Often times, we react to our own emotions with shock or disgust. We feel that such an emotion should be locked away.
While in Israel, I had such a moment. A VERY poignant moment, at that. We were in Magdala. My pain was already making it difficult to listen to what was being said, to take in the sights, or to enjoy the day. It was raining lightly. It was cold. And I ached. My back. My neck. I just hurt so much. I was heavily relying on my cane that day. But even with it, I was struggling to keep my balance. My legs kept trying to give out on me. To collapse and never have to move again. What a thought! But I moved on with the group. Thankfully, I wore my hat. A ball cap, that when I looked down, hid my face. Or so I had hoped. We saw the ruins of the city that Mary Magdalene was from. As history has taught us, people used where they were from as a surname, not a family name like we do today. The ruins weren't much. A large, and rather fancy hotel overlooks them. They have a covered portion that protects some of it from the elements. Mostly lower parts of the walls, and then there were some mosaic flooring to be see. As well as what would have been a synagogue based on the types of stone "furniture" that was found. Like a type of podium. Of course, the Catholics are the ones who own it. And they do have the large cathedral built there too to honor some of the women that have attained higher status according to their religion. Mary Magdalene is one of them. I don't agree with much, if anything of the Catholic religion, so don't get butt hurt if I don't ooh and aah over their buildings.
That being said, I was struck by one mural within that cathedral. Huge. Beautiful. And powerful. Done by a Peruvian artist. They told a story about it. Inspiration came from the story of the woman who was healed by just touching the hem of Jesus' garment as He passed by. (Matthew 9:18) How often have I heard that story from the Bible? How often had I heard the preachers mention her amazing faith? But you know what? I had never seen myself in her. Until now.
That mural, spoke to my situation. Maybe it was because I was emotionally unbalanced from the high pain level I was experiencing. Maybe it was a visually stimulating picture that drew the lines connecting my dots with hers. I don't care what it was. I just know that as I stood there, I felt her pain. I KNOW her daily struggle. I feel it every single day. I hate that way I am because of a body that refuses to function properly. I have spent thousands of dollars trying to get a doctor to "fix" my physical ailments. All to be told, "Sorry, we can't do anything for you". Or "Learn to live with it". She had been through all of that. She was considered
"unclean" according to Jewish law. Unable to be touched by her family and friends. Unable to participate in any of the events. FOR YEARS! She would have been shoved to the side. Avoided like the plague. Touching her would make others "unclean" as well. How lonely she must have felt! No one to understand. Cursing her body for all the trouble it was causing, but unable to fix it. Then Jesus comes walking near. There are people crowding around Him. Everyone wants a piece of this 'prophet', 'healer' and maybe even the Messiah that was promised. He was on his way to heal a little girl that was dying. He was being rushed. But then "virtue" goes from Him. And being God in flesh, He knows it. He stops everyone to find her. To tell her that her faith had made her whole again.
I stood in front of this mural. Shaking. Crying. And praying. I kept my head down for the rest of the time we were there. I avoided talking to anyone. I don't like anyone being able to see that side of me outside my house. But, man! I was struggling! Her story is my story. Her pain and suffering is mine. And I can completely understand her faith. If Jesus walked today, you can bet I would seek to move mountains to grovel at His feet. I'd crawl around too, just to touch the hem of His garment and pray that that would be enough to heal me.
You want something powerful? THAT is as powerful as it has ever been for me. That story grabs on and fills me with a feeling that I can't explain. And while I know I'm not likely to get that miracle, I am still hopeful for what comes next. For the freedom from pain and suffering that I am moving towards in heaven. The joy that will never desert me either. That is where I'm going.
