And now it rises in me to write a word to comfort you, you Friends of the Bridegroom, that mourn for his Withdrawing, and eat your Bread with Quaking, and drink your Water with Trembling, as those who find no comfort till you do enjoy him. Wait without Weariness, and you shall behold his Countenance, and hear his pleasant Voice, which will revive your Spirits; but still be you mindful when you hear things unutterable, that you keep low and humble, so shall you be kept from the Snares of the Devil. —Elizabeth Bathurst

Questions: Have you experienced or witnessed a healing that cannot be explained? How do you feel about the healing stories in the Bible? In both these passages, those who are outside the community of faith are the people who recognize and believe in Jesus. What do you think this means for the church today?

Later I learned I had PTSD. I only knew then that I lived alone behind a glass wall. I looked normal, I suppose. I pretended that I could touch other people. Perhaps I did, sometimes. But not too often. That would have been terrifying. I only felt alive when eating or spending money.

When I least understood why, rage arrived, took up the space between me and the wall, melting the glass, and whoever else was standing near. Close by me was a dangerous space to be.

My first child learned to walk, began growing from baby to boy. I looked at him in his little blue overalls in the corner of the kitchen. What would it be like, I thought, to grow up with an angry mother? I missed a promotion at work. My life had become unmanageable. Did I believe that a power greater than I would restore me to sanity? I wasn’t sure.

I had grown up in the church, but that came with scars. Could there still be in Christianity a higher power? Was there some core to it that had not been ruined by the human beings in the church? I began reading the Gospels to see, for the first time. Instead of pieces plucked out and placed on display in worship each Sunday, I read through. I noticed the flow. The great interruption in the flow that was—and is—the resurrection, which changed everyone who had been around Jesus. I wanted that. I needed that.

I did not have enough friends to break down the roof and lower me into the house where Jesus was staying. I would never have had the courage to yell to get Jesus’ attention through the crowds. I did not have people to say “go” and they went, or “do this” and they did it. That was several promotions above the one I had missed.

But I understood about being in a crowd, everyone shouting, clamoring, following, and no one paying attention to me. I knew I could put a shoulder here, shift my weight there, get close with no one noticing. I could do it. No one would see. Then I touched his robe. I felt his power flow through me, head to toe. He called me daughter. Daughter.

–Judy Maurer in “Friendly Perspective” from Matthew: The Life of Jesus