Little things

 August, 8, 2020

[A] bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. (Matthew 17:5-8)

Little things

My daughter’s yellow lab, Bailey, knows the meaning of life. Her most frequent pose is to roll from side to back and expose her stomach so the rest of us can fulfill the meaning of our lives, which is to rub her belly.

She knows that we exist for her comfort, and this little thing assures her that all is well with the world. Scratch her belly, and she’ll never forget you.

Small gestures speak volumes in her world, really, in any world. A nod, a glance, a whispered word or even slightest touch can shout great love and care in ways that only a beloved can see and understand.

So I am drawn to the moment Jesus walks to his frightened friend and touches them—on the head, I suppose, since they crouched on the ground hiding their eyes from what, to them, was a fearful vision.

It’s a little thing, so small one wonders why the story teller bothered to record it, especially in his account of a powerful vision where the voice of God is heard. But it is this touch, not the voice or the vision, that I find most, well, touching.

It exudes care, gentleness, affection, tenderness, understanding—things we crave as much or more than Bailey likes her belly rubs.

Jesus doesn’t walk by his frightened friends. He touches them and in doing so touches me, touches all of us with the Love our souls long have craved.

“Get up. Do not be afraid,” Jesus said to the disciples with him. I’m thankful for those words, but I can barely hear them over the sound of his silent touch, telling me exactly what I need to know.

Pr. David L. Miller