Who am I…..?

“Who am I that you are mindful of me? That you hear me…when I call?” The words to the popular song rang through my head today. Really. Who am I? Some days I’m so busy I’m not sure who I am! Why on earth would it matter to God Almighty when I call on Him? How does he hear us individually among the clanging throng of voices sending up our heartfelt pittance of praise as an offering and our constant requests? It’s humbling really. I picture this giant stadium, the size of let’s say….uh…Earth! And in the center of this stadium, around the 50 yard line, is God himself, or this incredible illumination that we know is Him, but like so many in the past, we cannot see His face. And everyone is yelling out at once. Occasionally you can pick out an “I love you!” amidst the screaming stands. Occasionally you hear a few singing together as an undertone while the crowd just roars. And then, as the rows part around me, it’s as if suddenly there is quiet, and my small little self is suddenly put on the spot and I hear myself struggle out a single word in a puny voice, “JEESUSSS?” and I realize he’s listening just to me. Yet, it seems the scene is repeated over and over for everyone in the stadium. I notice that it’s not just me standing in a parted aisle, someone else is in a parted aisle, and someone else in yet another, and everywhere I look each person is alone and He is paying attention to every word they say…all at the same time. His ability to focus individually on everyone is amazing! And when we are each done, we sit down and in total, the stadium is silent. Can you picture it?
Sometimes it’s difficult because we can’t get past the one in a trillion people part of the picture. We feel like the aisle will never part and it will never be our turn. Or perhaps our sense of worth is such that we think only those who are special or spectacular will be heard or have a chance to turn the ear of God.
At one time, when Jesus himself walked among us, in the days He dwelt with man on this earth, there was a woman who felt much like that, I’m sure. She didn’t feel worthy, she didn’t think she’d ever get her moment in the spotlight to tell Jesus how much she trusted Him, how much she believed in Him let alone ask for His healing touch. She could feel the mob of people screaming His name, calling out to Him, asking for help, asking for blessings, asking for wisdom. And there she was, a self-degraded person, who was considered unclean by everyone else as well, a woman who felt like even touching him without a word was good enough.
“As Jesus was on His way, the crowds almost crushed Him. And there was a woman there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind Him and touched the edge of His cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped. ‘Who touched Me?’ Jesus asked. When they all denied it, Peter said, ‘Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.’ But Jesus said, ‘Someone touched Me; I know that power has gone out from Me.’ The woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at His feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched Him and how she had been instantly healed. Then He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace’” (LUK 8:43-47)
The stadium was full wasn’t it, per se? The throng of people following along with him. She knew she couldn’t yell out over them and have anyone pay attention to her. She was worthless, she thought. Even though she’d have loved to have Jesus’ undivided attention, she knew that no one would ever just notice her other than to push her out of the way in their excitement to follow Jesus. So she stealthily worked her way through the crowd with complete faith that just the touch of Him would heal her, even if He didn’t know it. But it didn’t work quite that way. Oh she was healed alright. But then, as I picture it, suddenly the crowds parted and there she was, from the safety of His shadow to directly in His line of view….the crowd is quiet…and He peers directly at her….”who touched Me?” She has no choice but to speak. “It was me. J-E-S-U-S!” she proclaims in a hushed way as she falls to her knees. She tells him what she has longed to for so long and how she has instantly been healed. And He sends her off, healed as a direct result of deep faith.
He noticed her. He didn’t even need her to answer when He asked who touched Him. He noticed and He knew. Just as He notices you, just as He notices me. And no matter how many times a day we find ourselves in that world of a stadium, every time we call His name, the aisle parts and He hears us, “J-E-S-U-S?”
“Who am I that He is mindful of me? That He hears me when I call?” I am His..

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