“And moved with compassion, He stretched out his hand, and touched him, and said to him, “I am willing; be cleansed.”
Mark 1:41
I looked down on my arm, as my wife lay next to me, peacefully asleep, unaware to the disease that was coming over me. A small reddish spot was beginning to appear on my right forearm, and there was only one word to describe it, a word that struck fear into the hearts and minds of every person alive.
Leprosy.
An evil, cruel disease that ate away at your body’s flesh, until you looked like a piece of rotten meat, with flies buzzing around you, and a horrid stench that stayed with you always. I looked down at my two children asleep on their pallet. James was seven, and Rachel was four.
Deep utter hopelessness struck my heart. I would have to leave them, and my wife. The people of my town would cast me out of the gates of the city and I would never see them again.
I placed my head in my hands, and cried.
Please, Lord of my father, Abraham, heal me, I pleaded in the silence.
***
Two weeks after the spot on my arm began to appear, the elders of the village came to take me. Leah, my wife, had cried and pleaded with them, but they had held her back, along with my children.
“Daddy!” Rachel had cried. “Daddy, don’t leave!” Tears streaked down her muddy face, and her brown hair was flying loose in the wind.
I had looked at James, hard. “Take care of them son, take care of your mother and sister!”
He had looked at me with solemn brown eyes, as he pulled Rachel back, wrapping his arms around her waist, nodding.
“I love you!” I had cried, “I love you!”
“Issac!” Leah had screamed, and then she was out of sight.
***
I look down at my hands and feet. My fingers and toes are raw, and open, oozing a yellow fluid. I try to wiggle them, but I can’t, I have no feeling.
This disease will kill me, I think.
A single tear drops down my face, and to the dirt.
I am alone, hungry, worthless, and sick, oh, so sick.
I stand up on wobbly legs, and walk through the village gates. Maybe someone will take pity on me, and give me a hunk of dry bread, or rotten fish, anything, anything.
“Unclean!” I yell, “Unclean! Unclean!”
It is the rule of my people to call this when a leper such as I walks through the crowd.
Suddenly, I see something, someone, in the midst of the crowd. He has a kind face, yet its holds a certain power. He is speaking; something inside me wants to hear.
I try and get closer, and I hear Him talking about an eternal kingdom.
‘Unclean!” I cry, as people part like the Red Sea, as I try to reach the man.
I have heard of Him before, His name is Jesus.
“Unclean! Unclean!”
A woman screams and spills her basket of grapes as she tries to get out of me way.
I fall to my knees, bowing my head, my hands clasped. “If you are willing, You can make me clean!” I cry, tears’ running down my face, just being in His presence fills me with a sense of wonder and worship.
I feel Him turn around and bend down; He bends down to my level. Grabbing my face, He looks into my eyes; a tear lies in the corner of His eye.
He touched me, but I am unclean! I am a sick, dirty sinner.
“I am willing,” He says, his voice as powerful as thunder, yet as gentle as an evening breeze. “Be cleansed!”
My whole body shudders and His Spirit flows into me, as He heals my body.
This man is the Messiah, the Son of God.
Mark 1:41
I looked down on my arm, as my wife lay next to me, peacefully asleep, unaware to the disease that was coming over me. A small reddish spot was beginning to appear on my right forearm, and there was only one word to describe it, a word that struck fear into the hearts and minds of every person alive.
Leprosy.
An evil, cruel disease that ate away at your body’s flesh, until you looked like a piece of rotten meat, with flies buzzing around you, and a horrid stench that stayed with you always. I looked down at my two children asleep on their pallet. James was seven, and Rachel was four.
Deep utter hopelessness struck my heart. I would have to leave them, and my wife. The people of my town would cast me out of the gates of the city and I would never see them again.
I placed my head in my hands, and cried.
Please, Lord of my father, Abraham, heal me, I pleaded in the silence.
***
Two weeks after the spot on my arm began to appear, the elders of the village came to take me. Leah, my wife, had cried and pleaded with them, but they had held her back, along with my children.
“Daddy!” Rachel had cried. “Daddy, don’t leave!” Tears streaked down her muddy face, and her brown hair was flying loose in the wind.
I had looked at James, hard. “Take care of them son, take care of your mother and sister!”
He had looked at me with solemn brown eyes, as he pulled Rachel back, wrapping his arms around her waist, nodding.
“I love you!” I had cried, “I love you!”
“Issac!” Leah had screamed, and then she was out of sight.
***
I look down at my hands and feet. My fingers and toes are raw, and open, oozing a yellow fluid. I try to wiggle them, but I can’t, I have no feeling.
This disease will kill me, I think.
A single tear drops down my face, and to the dirt.
I am alone, hungry, worthless, and sick, oh, so sick.
I stand up on wobbly legs, and walk through the village gates. Maybe someone will take pity on me, and give me a hunk of dry bread, or rotten fish, anything, anything.
“Unclean!” I yell, “Unclean! Unclean!”
It is the rule of my people to call this when a leper such as I walks through the crowd.
Suddenly, I see something, someone, in the midst of the crowd. He has a kind face, yet its holds a certain power. He is speaking; something inside me wants to hear.
I try and get closer, and I hear Him talking about an eternal kingdom.
‘Unclean!” I cry, as people part like the Red Sea, as I try to reach the man.
I have heard of Him before, His name is Jesus.
“Unclean! Unclean!”
A woman screams and spills her basket of grapes as she tries to get out of me way.
I fall to my knees, bowing my head, my hands clasped. “If you are willing, You can make me clean!” I cry, tears’ running down my face, just being in His presence fills me with a sense of wonder and worship.
I feel Him turn around and bend down; He bends down to my level. Grabbing my face, He looks into my eyes; a tear lies in the corner of His eye.
He touched me, but I am unclean! I am a sick, dirty sinner.
“I am willing,” He says, his voice as powerful as thunder, yet as gentle as an evening breeze. “Be cleansed!”
My whole body shudders and His Spirit flows into me, as He heals my body.
This man is the Messiah, the Son of God.
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