The Power of a Touch

I was taught early on to pay attention to words that repeat in Scripture. When something shows up more than once in a short passage, it’s usually an invitation to slow down and notice what God might be emphasizing.

This morning, one word stood out to me: touch.

In Matthew 9:18–26, that word appears in two very different ways, yet both moments lead to healing.

On the same journey, Jesus encounters two people in need.

In one moment, Jesus goes into a room and touches a little girl by the hand. She is lifeless, unable to reach out, unable to ask, unable to believe for herself. The miracle happens because Jesus initiates the touch. Grace moves first.

In another moment, a woman who has been suffering for twelve years reaches out and touches Jesus. She presses through the crowd quietly, almost anonymously, believing that even the smallest contact with Him would be enough. And it is.

Same journey. Same Jesus. Same power.
But the direction of the touch is different.

That contrast teaches us something deeply human and deeply pastoral about how Jesus meets us.

Sometimes, faith looks like reaching.
It’s active. Risky. Intentional.
It pushes past fear, shame, and doubt and says, “If I can just get close enough…”

But sometimes, faith looks like being reached.
It’s quiet. Passive. Weak.
It’s the season where you don’t have the strength to pray, move, or believe and grace comes looking for you anyway.

What this tells us is important:
Jesus doesn’t require one expression of faith.

He responds to honesty, not formulas.
He honors effort and exhaustion.
He meets both the ones who press through the crowd and the ones lying still in the room.

The power wasn’t in who moved first.
The power was in who they were moving toward.

And that matters for us today.

Because there will be days when you can reach out, when faith rises, courage stirs, and you move toward Jesus with confidence.

And there will be days when you can’t.
Days when all you can do is lie still and hope He notices.

Here’s the good news of this passage:
When we can’t reach Jesus, He comes to us.

Whether your faith is active or resting, loud or quiet, strong or fragile, Jesus is near. And healing still flows.