She presses through the unforgiving elbows. Fighting through the resistance of bodies and noise, feeling the harsh eyes and sharp comments as she fumbles through the crowd. Her body is cumbersome with embarrassment, but she’s getting closer now. She can almost hear it. His faint voice, unhurried and gentle. Quiet and constant through the cacophony of voices. Desperation quickens in her spirit as she falls to a crawl. Careless, heavy feet drill into her fingers and hands. If she could just touch His robe, even just the hem.
She stretches one last time, and at that moment, when her fingers meet the fabric, everything in her changes.
She’s still clutching her stomach when her body begins to experience this foreign, yet familiar stillness for the first time in 12 years. It is as if all the static in the world suddenly became quiet.
“Who touched me?” she hears. The crowd loosens around Him.
She is still on her knees when His eyes meet hers.
Often, we don’t find ourselves in moments of desperation like this unnamed woman who is fighting to meet Jesus on the road. But we have all felt a similar yearning in our spirits for a connection with Him. Some of us have been those in the crowd watching others have this moment with Him and found ourselves curious and inspired wanting our own experience. Some of us believe and know that we could have that connection, but our lives are too loud and too imposing; the crowd too large. We are altogether too far, too tired and too busy. We have too much work, not enough time, no one to watch the kids whose fingers are sticky again – all legitimate things that pull us in all different directions.
With anything from anxious thoughts to indifference jostling around us like jutting shoulders in a crowd, we shuffle through life, straining to hear what God is saying. Where we can’t quite make out what He’s saying or where He’s going. Too tired to wrestle through the distractions and noise to reach Him.
But we all crave that moment, don’t we? That moment, when everything silences around us, where the crowds part like fog melting away in the afternoon, and we are met with the tenderness of God calling to us, “Son.” “Daughter.”
We need these moments to connect with Jesus, where you break through the restless thoughts and red lines on the map and looming deadlines to touch the edge of His robe.
To abide with Him and to know that you are seen, heard and known.
To be refreshed in His presence.
To actually hear what He’s saying.
This is what Kavannah Nights are for: it’s us creating space to engage with God.
And just like the unnamed woman in the Gospels, it requires us to fight through our fatigue, our apathy, our contented spirits or busy schedules in order to reach out, even to crawl, to connect with Him as a body.
Because we need Him. We need to connect with Him — especially when the resistance is high and we are tired or numb. As disciples of God, we need time to abide with Him, to worship Him individually and corporately to download His heart, to remember who He says we are and to engage in what He’s doing.
“Daughter,” He says to the unnamed woman with a smile, His hand outstretched bringing her bruised body to her feet. He is everything and nothing she hoped He would be. In His presence, she is healed, but more importantly, she is seen and known.
Kavannah Nights, Ekko’s Worship and Prayer Nights, will take place on the first Fridays of June (6/1/), July (7/6), and August (8/3) in Ekko’s summer season.
They will begin at 8 PM at Ekko Church.