THE POWER OF TOUCH

I am not a big fan of massages.  I’ve had two before and only because I had some achy part of my body I wanted someone to loosen for me.   So when my daughter Amy gave me a Groupon for a massage for Mother’s Day, I wasn’t totally thrilled with the idea.  I know my daughter Becky loves them, so I convinced her to come along.  It didn’t take much convincing.

So last night we drove to the nearby hotel where we would get our massages.  We arrived early so we could sit in the hot tub for a while and chat and that was lovely and relaxing.  We changed out of our bathing suits and into long, warm and fuzzy robes.

When the time came for our massage appointment I was ushered into a room by a very sweet young woman named Ursula.  She gave me instructions for getting ready and left the room while I positioned myself on the massage table under some soft blankets.  When she returned, she asked me to choose the scent of the body oils I’d like from among three.  She lowered the lights until the room was nearly dark and put on some very soothing music, which wasn’t really music, but more like modulating sound, very pleasant to the ears, and comfort inducing.  And then she began her massage.

What happened as soon as she began took me completely by surprise.  I felt like a sensory sponge, soaking up all that I didn’t even realize I needed.  It was as if I was transported into the presence of the Lord so that He could minister His comfort to me through my senses.  I spent the entire hour worshiping Jesus. 

The Lord created us all to be sensory beings.  He gave me my sense of touch, a sense I indulge every time I run my fingers over fabric, or the rough bark of a tree, or the soft fur of our cat, or the fuzz of a peach, or the prickly stems of a rose or the fuzziness of a new baby's scalp. 

He gave me my sense of smell, which delights in June honeysuckle, spring lilacs, roses, a baby’s skin, chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven, spring rain, and a host of other delicious things. 

He gave me my sense of hearing which perks up at the sounds of birds saying good night to one another, and causes my head to turn at the word “Mom”.  The sounds of baby babble, women talking, laughter, puppies barking, cruise ship whistles and a myriad of other things grab my auditory attention and create joy.

He gave me my sense of taste, the ability to savor with relish the delight of summer berries, watermelon, anything Italian, coffee, turkey on Thanksgiving, ice cream, chocolate, and even frog legs!

He gave me my sense of sight, creating wonder at the complexity of spider webs, celebration over the growth of a tomato, joy over a cloudless blue sky, and rejoicing to watch my daughters and granddaughter come into the world, marveling over their perfection.

But until last night I never realized how much I would be blessed by the touch of someone else’s hands.  All I could think about while Ursula was smoothing oil on my tired joints and muscles, was Jesus.  I wondered what it would be like to see Him face to face and to know His touch on my face.  I wondered what it would be like to finally see Him and touch HIM!  I longed to sit on His lap, hug Him tightly, rest my head on His shoulder, know the sweetness of His kiss on my face. 

I thought about Mary who had anointed the feet of Jesus with perfume and with her tears and how much He valued her sacrifice of love, so much so that He drew attention to her at the banquet and said that she would be remembered for that act of worship. 

I thought about the women who came to the tomb on the morning of Jesus’s resurrection.  Because His burial had been a hurried one, there had been no time to anoint His body with spices and so they had arrived that day to complete the task, only to find Him risen.  Even though they thought He was dead, they came to anoint Him and touch Him in the process.

In that massage room all of my senses but one were being ignited, each one ministering to my spirit through solitude, shadow, quiet, aroma, and touch, and lifting my heart and mind up to worship Jesus.     

I think we humans just might underestimate the value of a touch.  We listen to one another, we talk, we share meals, we work side by side – but how often could we miss an opportunity to bring comfort through a touch? 

I came away from that massage last night feeling as if I had been in the presence of Jesus Himself, administering His comfort through the hands of another.  It was for me, a worship experience.

I’m not about to start getting a massage a week, but I will think again about how I minister to those in need of comfort.  Not all of them will want or need a touch, but I’m going to offer it, because Jesus just might want my hands to be His source of comfort to someone else in need.

Who knew what a blessing – beyond the massage itself – that Mother’s Day gift would be to me, or what a worshipful experience?

Thank you Jesus, that YOU were with there last night, in that small, dark, quiet room, administering Your comfort deep in my soul.