For most of the world race, I’ve made jokes about my “twig arms”. Even trying to pack light, it’s heavy to carry your bed, house, closet, office, and guitar on your back for 11 months. Asking for help lifting sometimes, I’d blame my twig arms. When we did construction, I continued to laugh about them. To be able to dig the meter-deep holes our contact asked of us, I had to use my entire body weight to dig them because, well, twig arms!
One day I was lying on my bed and wanted to read scripture. I’d just finished the book of Daniel, and didn’t feel especially drawn anywhere else, so I asked the Holy Spirit where to read. I got an impression in my spirit of “Mark 8”.
I’ve always been more of a John or a Luke girl myself, but reading Mark I was amazed with a pattern that seemed to jump off the pages.
Taking the blind man’s hand, Yeshua led him…. (mark 8.23)
Then he put his arms around him… (mark 9.36)
Yeshua took him by the hand and raised him to his feet… (mark 9.27)
And [Yeshua] took them in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them… (mark 10.16)
I began to cry.
This picture of Jesus spoke to my core. If you know me much, you know I have something like a minimum 15-hugs-per-day quota. To see my Jesus wrap his arms, lay his hands, hold another’s hands, and embrace so much… Wow. Jesus used his gift of touch to heal, of course, but sometimes his healing came through the simple acts of pure, loving touch.
I needed to read this.
In the days ahead, Jesus got to hold, to hug, and to comfort many through me.
———————————————
Taking the little girl’s body, muddy & cold, I wrapped her up in my jacket and plopped her in my lap, holding her until she was warm again.
Squatting down next to the woman, I held her until her body relaxed and she felt the love of Jesus.
Cupping their faces, I looked them in the eyes and whispered Jesus’ love over the children.
Sitting on the floor, I pulled the women’s feet to rest on my thighs as I poured water over them, rubbed them, and cleaned them.
After the prayer, I walked close, criss-crossing my arms around her back and stroking her hair.
Lifting them to my torso, I spun the children around until they disintegrated into giggles.
———————————————
I may have little twig arms, but you better believe these twig arms are for the kingdom. So glad Jesus is a hugger.
