The fact that I am not a singer is well documented (all that one needs is the ‘accidental’ recording of me singing with our worship band while my head mic is not muted). Regardless of this and the numerous people covering their ears each time that I am near an organ, guitar, or catchy commercial, I have always been connected to music in some way. Probably not because I like it (my iPhone only has six songs-three of which are from Disney’s “The Lion King”), but because that is what churches historically would do to get children, tweens, and the few remaining high schoolers “involved”. Throughout life, I would be on stage in the most precarious situations-all because no one had pointed out my ineptitude. These include:
The time I lost my place on the sheet music while singing a solo in front of my church and just said “Uh Oh” over and over
When I got the hiccups during another solo about “Grandma’s Christmas Turkey” that everyone else found to be ‘cute.’
When i tried out for all-state choir because it was an ‘open-audition’ and the choir director from another school mercifully sang with me to, in her words, ‘get me through it’.
Each time I’ve played DDR in public.
The summer before the sixth grade, I was not a child, not yet a middle schooler according to the by-laws approved by East Lake Baptist Church. The piano player, youth director, choir director, and the evil villain with the maniacal laugh got together and decided that we should do a Children’s musical to bring the summer to a close. The title of the musical: “The Backyard Gang.” The plot was loosely a Christianized answer to ‘Saved by the Bell’ (minus Zack’s phone) with some ‘Stand by Me’ (minus the dead body) mixed in on the side (You see, in the 80’s, Chick Fil A had not reached its current point of popularity with their work of ‘Baptizing the chicken’, and we were uneasy about our inability to ‘church up’ everything).
What was the plot again? An outsider (AC Slater-type) who is rough around the edges makes the lives of some church kids miserable until they reach out and accept him. This plot was told through 45 minutes of soliloquies, an assortment of solos (uh oh), and some poorly positioned dialogue between the people on stage.
I wanted to play the part of the outsider-the rebel with the eventual, conventional, predictable heart of gold. Never one to run with scissors or recognize James Dean, I believed in my heart of hearts that my natural giftings as a thespian would triumph. With a little hair gel, a french roll, some Zubaz pants, and maybe a trip or two to the gym, my presence on stage would have screamed ‘T-R-O-U-B-L-E’ faster than you could say Travis Tritt.
I anticipated the Sunday night when we would receive our roles. I’d spent time that afternoon getting into character by frowning, ripping holes in my jeans, and slinging rocks at moving cars (well, two out of three). I walked up to where the assignments were posted (we took this stuff seriously at ELBC). My plan was to leave the church that night and get some candy cigarettes. Then I saw the list.
I was typecast. I was to be the “likable older leader” of the group. The one who every parent relies on to watch the smaller kids. The kid who never says things that are outside of the norm. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t chew. He doesn’t date girls who do (still a classic).
I was going to be myself.
This was a part that I could play with my eyes closed. I had always been reliable, likeable, and a little funny. Old people loved me. Though I was still a few years from owning a pager, I knew that, if such a device existed, I would have to carry enough quarters to get in touch with people at a moment’s notice.
Yet there was a problem.
That transition to sixth grade is rough in numerous ways. Some kids need deodorant. Others don’t. Some voices change. Others stay the same. Some are in love. Others don’t know what love is or wonder what it has to do with it.
Some are chunky kids who don’t realize it.
I was stocky. I wore my husky jeans and was always told how cute my cheeks were. I wanted to play QB, but knew that I belonged on the Offensive line. I was never afraid to ask for that last slice of (poorly baked) pizza (with toppings that were even more poorly placed) when our church group got together.
So, when our church ordered “Backyard Gang” t-shirts from The Baptist Bookstore (now known as ‘LifeWay’) we were all to get a shirt for the night of our performance. At our last practice, these shirts were distributed. I put it on...sorta. This was before undersized clothes were in or Under Armour was even a real thing. I would have offered to protect this house or do something hipster (which is, basically, sit still and look uninterested), but had no idea that was even an option. I playing the part of the kid who ‘just fits in’ and I couldn’t even fit into my shirt.
Our leaders had a plan. They encouraged me by saying, “Don’t worry about it.”, “We will fix it!” and “Can you get carrots instead of fries tonight?” These sweet ladies were going to make this problem go away.
I got to church at four the night of the performance. I walked into my Green Room (Choir Robe Room) where the fixed t-shirts were to be distributed. The original shirts were green. The ladies had bought larger shirts (which were white) and had used scissors to cut the logo from the original shirt. If you are keeping score, my shirt looked like a giant, reverse 6 ball. So now, not only am I the biggest kid on stage, I am wearing a shirt that says “this is the biggest kid on stage.” (Please refrain from singing the “Green Giant” jingle).
I truly believe the ladies realized the humiliation that I was going to go through. They did make an attempt to fix it.
With glitter.
And puff paint.
The ladies took my t-shirt and drew a puff paint circle around the emblem. They then used the puff paint on the sleeves, back, and anywhere else with enough white space to properly humiliate me. To seal the deal, they then sprinkled glitter glue all over the shirt. Throughout the play, the rest of the kids were wearing classy, matching t-shirts with their cool acid washed jeans and indoor soccer shoes or Keds. I was wearing my glittery, puff paint, bobo t-shirt.
The irony is still a bit startling. My intent initially was to play an outsider-to be in a controlled situation. My reality was exactly the opposite. I was an insider who stood out. I wanted to play a part that stood out to be noticed in the drama. But I stood out even though ‘fitting in’ with the group was not part of my reality.
In the midst of a Christian culture that has placed the song ‘Identity Crisis’ on repeat, there are many of us who repeatedly feel surges and crashes because we want to stand out enough to fit in our everyday controlled scenarios. Yet when the situation is beyond us and our situation dictates that we adapt to a social acceptance while not blending in with societal norms, we shrink away. Our situations lead to faulty justifications. Our circumstances become excuses. In short, the opportunity to make the most of moments gives way fear kicking us in the stomach and anxiety eating our lunch.
There was a woman who approached Jesus in a crowd who had not fit in for a long, long, time. She had an ‘issue of blood’ and, though we don’t know the full extent, we know that would put her on the outside of everyone. For 12 years, she’d spent money on doctors. For 12 years, she could not hold her baby. For 12 years, her family had lived as if she was dead.
She hears of this Jesus and plans to get to him in a crowd and just touch his garment. “I don’t need his attention. I don’t need his acceptance. If I get his cloak, that is enough.” The common thought among the Jewish people was that a rabbi’s cloak was enough to do...something. For her, a little chance something was better than absolutely nothing.
The place was crowded. Jesus was in town. It was the holiday season. In a similar fashion to the holiday season that will loosely tie itself to him, there was nowhere for Jesus to go.
Everyone was pressing against Jesus. He stood out. He stood out so much that there were times that He had to go be by Himself. He stood out because He spoke with power and treated others with compassion. He loved those who were outcast. He cared for the broken. He even ate with sinners. And, honestly, he stood out because everyone wanted a show and Jesus was the best show in town. He owned those moments and pointed to greater truths and greater realities than anyone around Him had ever thought mentioned.
She grabbed the garment. He asked, “Who touched me?”
The lady had to be confused. Yes, she touched him. No, she did not want him to acknowledged it. Yes, if it worked, the touch would be worth it. No, nobody thought she was worth anything. Yes-she was in the crowd. No-she was not ‘in’ the crowd.
The Scriptures use the word “trembling.”
She had to be out of sorts. This was possibly her first meaningful interaction with a human being in 12 years. Her nerves were on end. Her body was shaking. She was trembling.
Her strength gave. She collapsed.
“It...”
What will they think?
“was me...”
What will he say?
“I did it...”
Will he point out, like everyone else, that I don’t matter?
“I...touched...you.”
There, the floodgates opened. Luke tells us she told him why she had touched him. That had to be a huge ‘why.’
“I reached out and I touched you because I’ve heard about your power and your healing and your love of people who are unclean and I’m unclean and everyone knows I’m unclean because I’ve been bleeding for twelve years and my husband hates me and I can’t touch my babies and I have to get water at the weirdest times and I know a little about the Scriptures and how if I touch the hem of a rabbi’s garment I won’t be sick anymore and you are supposed to be the newest rabbi on the block and I’ve been bleeding and when I touched you...”
She pauses.
“It stopped. The bleeding just stopped.”
Internally she thinks. “Why is he looking at me like that?”
He is opening his mouth.
“Daughter...”
Wait, no one calls me that.
“your faith has healed you.”
I really am better.
“Go in peace.”
The beauty of the work of Jesus is not that she no longer stood out. It is that she now stands out for a different reason. She stood out before because she was broken. She stands out now because Jesus has made her complete.
For some reason or another, there will always be a reason that we stand out. Sometimes, we are just having one of those days. It could be a disease. Maybe it is just a poorly planned t-shirt. Sometimes, it is because we want to fit in too much. Other times, we want to hide in the crowd and, in so doing, we stand out.
The words of Jesus to the woman are much more than a temporary fix. He tells her that she is ‘healed.’ That she can go ‘in peace.’ She is still going to die. She will always have less than peaceful days. What is the Lord trying to tell her?
That her identity as his ‘daughter’ has given her a new reason. She has direction. Her life has purpose. Standing out now has a whole new meaning.
He says the same to us. In the face of the tragedies that define us and the people who wound us, we are to stand out.
One of Jesus’s closest friends, Peter, was a guy who knew about standing out, in good times and bad. He wrote some of his thoughts about belonging to Jesus as his child down a few years later. He lets us know how Jesus loves us. And he lets us know that Jesus does not love because we are changed-His love is what transforms.
“Of course I’m a Christian, but I am just in the 7th grade. Who cares what I say?”
“You are a chosen race.”
I’ve moved in you to stand out.
“I am divorced. It was my fault. My life is wrecked. I know Jesus, but I don’t know how he could still care about me.”
“You are a royal priesthood.”
Just like the priest of old,you, as my child, have access to me.
My life is a wreck and I can’t take a step without falling down.
“You are a holy nation.”
You are not alone. I am with you and you are a part of My kingdom. Other people should walk with you.
I don’t have anyone who cares.
A people of his own possession.
“I care.”
“I don’t know what I am supposed to do.”
You are to proclaim how great I am and how I have given you light to see and that you now are part of My people. And that is what my people are now able to do.
“Stand out.”
The life of someone who claims to follow Jesus carries a weight. Is His yoke easy? According to the Bible. Is the burden light? Scripture also affirms that. Yet that easy, light burden is also called a cross. Somewhere, in the midst of following Jesus, our focus has become on words that we like (easy, light) and our afterthoughts are words that we don't (cross).
Somehow, in the great tension that is understanding Jesus's words, these two fit together. For you to stand out means that you trust that He is with you, loves you, and is for you while knowing that there is will be the ever-present weight of a cross that says,
"I'm surrendered to God."
Faith is not simple. Jesus is not trite. Your life will not be at its best now.
But His yoke is easy and burden is light because of Biblical fact that you can carry a cross comes because Christ carried His.
Count the cost.
Consider the pressure.
Know that you have value.
Stand out.
Even when the t-shirt is terrible.
