Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cured of his leprosy. (Matthew 8:3)

The personal space of a German-Scandinavian man is easy to determine. You simply measure his height in inches, square the number, and you will then ascertain his personal space.

My family never participated in big bear hugs. We never kissed each other when coming or going. In fact, men in the Midwest rarely even look each other in the eye when having deep conversations! They stare off into the horizon, talking about the weather or the upcoming hunting season.

But last week, my personal space collapsed.

My personal space was collapsed by a child with dirty clothes, filthy hands, and a snot-encrusted face. My zone was invaded by a two-year old boy in a state orphanage for sick or abandoned children, crowded with forty other 2-4 year olds into four bedrooms. I also found myself hugging a little girl who probably hadn’t known the touch of a mom or dad in years.

We were at the orphanage for our second time already. A group from Waukesha , Wisconsin was building a third floor for the church in a nearby city. A part of the group left each day to minister in local homes and orphanages, sharing balloons, candy, and songs.

We were there with the pastor earlier in the week, helping him establish a regular ministry in the home. As the women sang, told stories, and played violin, the little kids sat like stones, staring in amazement. Of course, they were thrilled when the balloons and candy were placed into their hands. We didn’t hand out any toys, knowing the older kids would just steal them from the youngest children as soon as we left.

Two days later we returned with bananas. As I helped hand out a half banana to each child, I couldn’t help but think about dirt and germs. Many Americans are quite paranoid about standards of cleanliness, drenching themselves in hand-sanitizer as soon as they leave.

But as I sat with the kids that morning, I found myself praying for them as I hugged them and tousled their greasy hair. It didn’t matter how many layers of dirt already coated them. It didn’t even matter if there small vermin taking up residence in their clothes! I realized that an expression of love was more important than a few germs.

When I read Scripture, I see how Jesus reached out and touched people who were unclean, both physically and spiritually. He was not afraid of their filth or what others would say. When he saw the need of the person, and cared enough to touch.

I want that character trait in my life! I want to look past the dirt and smell. I want to push past societal taboos that tell me to avoid certain people. I don’t want to go to a church that only welcomes the clean and reputable people into its sanctuary. I want our church to touch the sick, not just the healthy!

We need to minister to the wild, misbehaved child, the hardened prostitute, and the disheveled drunk.
We need to care for the Alzheimer’s patient and AIDS victim with dignity and care.
We need to love both the foul-mouthed rancher and the tattooed youth with the love of Christ.

We need to reach out and touch them, getting near enough for their dirt to be rubbed off onto us. As followers of Christ, we must use our clothes of righteousness to wipe the dirt and stain from the hurting people around us.

Get uncomfortable. Get dirty. Get busy.

Getting stretched in Moldova ,

Andy Raatz