“Jesus said, ‘Who touched Me?’” (Luke 8:45).
Imagine for a moment… there she is, a young woman with the radiant smile — leaning against one of the stalls, her eyes in her happy face closed. A man is at her side, and behind them, in the manger where the cows gather for their food, is the Baby.
He is a tiny thing, wrapped tightly in a long linen robe and sleeping as soundly as any newborn baby — sleeping as though the world has not been waiting thousands of years for this moment; as soundly as though your life and my life and the life of everyone on earth were not wrapped up in His birth; as soundly as though, from this moment on, all the sin and sorrow of the world are not His problem.
Should you speak to His mother resting so quietly there? Should you ask her if you might touch the Baby — not to wake Him, but just to touch…
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