The Hem of His Garment

I just recently returned from my first trip to the Holy Land, and words sometimes fail me to describe my time there. People keep asking me what was my favorite part of the trip, or the thing I remember most. My heart drifts back to flashes of so many precious memories… to praising and worshipping the Lord on a wooden boat on the Sea of Galilee, with the Israeli and American flags both flapping in the wind overhead, side by side… or praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and looking up to see what my Jesus would have seen on His darkest night – the Eastern gate to the Old City, where He had entered just days earlier on a donkey amidst shouts of praises, only to soon be led away to screams of condemnation… or communion at the site of the tomb that could not hold Him… or being baptized in the Jordan River… or sitting amidst the ruins of an ancient synagogue where Jesus may have taught… or standing in a pit where Jesus may have been held prisoner prior to His execution… or the “chance” meeting with a close family member of Netanyahu’s, and being able to deliver a message of encouragement to the Prime Minister (a personal prayer request I had before the trip that was miraculously answered). All of these things hold special meaning for me, and are moments I will never forget.

But I believe the moment that sets itself apart from all others came the final day we were in Jerusalem. We were given the option of either visiting the Western Wall, or shopping in the markets of the Old City of Jerusalem. I chose the Wall. I didn’t really know what to expect, to be honest. After all, God is omnipresent and can manifest His presence anywhere at any time. Was I to expect His presence to be any greater here in this place? I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be expectant and keep an open heart. The Western Wall, or Wailing Wall, is the only remaining remnant of the outer courts of the Jewish Temple that was destroyed in 70 A.D. Its stones are ancient – more than 2,000 years old, and the same ones existing at the time of Jesus. I entered the portion of the Wall that allows women, approached slowly and waited my turn. In my hand I held several slips of paper, written prayers from friends and family halfway across the world. As worshippers finished praying and began to leave, people behind them inched forward to approach the Wall. As I came nearer, I suddenly felt overwhelmed – the air felt thick and my heart became heavy. Time seemed to stand still as I placed my hand on the cool stones. The prayer requests in my hand sprang quickly to my lips as I began to intercede and make supplication before the Lord. The “wall” I sometimes feel when trying to pray seemed nonexistent in this place, surrounded by His chosen people, the very apple of His eye. One of my personal requests was for physical healing in my body, something I’ve longed for and prayed about for years. I left this burden at the feet of Jesus there at that Wall, for my Lord to do with as He willed. I found a deep crevice where I placed the slips of paper one by one, and then slowly backed away from the Wall until I had passed the crowd waiting their own turn, as is tradition.

Time had flown by quickly, and soon we had to head back to our group meeting place. As we roamed through the narrow stone streets of Old Jerusalem, I kept my eyes peeled for the one thing I had hoped to bring home from Israel but had yet to find: a prayer shawl. I had seen several while on the trip, but they were all too fancy, too colorful, or too expensive. I wanted something simple – white with blue trim and the long knotted tassels at the corners, the traditional Jewish symbol of God’s authority and promises. I had just about given up hope of finding anything when a friend walking with me noticed one small shop with white prayer shawls hanging outside. “Seventy dollar!” the shop owner shouted when I asked him the price. I started to walk away when a very American-looking gentleman walked out of the same shop and started to pass me. “There’s one for $35 inside – you’re not going to find one like that cheaper anywhere else.” How did this man even know what I was looking for? I thought. My curiosity was piqued, so I went inside to take a look. Strangely, I didn’t see any other prayer shawls except for one single shawl folded on the counter in the back of the little shop. “Thirty-five dollar!” the shop owner shouted. Behind me, members of my group were urging me to hurry up so we wouldn’t be late. I took a quick glance at the shawl, and saw that it was indeed white with blue trim, with the knotted tassels at the corners. “I’ll take it!” I said, then quickly paid and off we went.

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind, and I didn’t have an opportunity to even look at my shawl until later that night in our hotel. As I took it out of the plastic bag, the first thing I noticed was that the shawl itself was contained in a zippered cloth bag with the “grafted in” symbol in gold stitching. The “grafted in” symbol, dating back to the 2nd century A.D., is a Jewish Menorah, Star of David, and Christian ichthus fish combined into one emblem, symbolizing the fact that Gentile believers in Jesus have been grafted into the Jewish root of Israel through faith in Jesus, the true Messiah (see Romans 11). I was surprised to see a Christian theme on what I had thought was a Jewish prayer shawl. Then, as I unfurled the shawl and laid it out, I noticed blue and gold stitching on each of the four corners. Each corner contained a Bible verse in English, stitched inside a square and attached to each of the long knotted tassels. I examined each verse:

“And they desired of Him that they might only touch the hem of His garment. And as many as touched it were made perfectly well.” Matthew 14:36

“But to you who fear My name, the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His wings.” Malachi 4:2

“He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5

“For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” 2 Corinthians 5:21

Almost every verse was about healing! And each verse was attached to a tassel, symbolizing the authority and promises of God. The realization suddenly hit me that the Lord had led me to just the shawl He wanted me to have. Since that day in Israel, I now have a visual in my mind and heart whenever I pray for healing. I cling to the hem of my Lord’s garment and the tassels of His promises. I think of the woman with the issue of blood who reached for the hem of His garment in her moment of desperation. She was reaching for the faithful promises of God, and He in His mercy met her right where she was at. I don’t claim to understand healing, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my God heals. Will I be healed completely someday? To this, I can say without hesitation a resounding YES! – whether it be this side of heaven or the other. Only God knows the when, the where, and the how.

Across the top of my shawl are these words, written in Hebrew: “Blessed are You O Lord King of the Universe Who have fulfilled all of the law through Jesus the Messiah and have covered us with His Righteousness.” What an appropriate blessing to find stitched into a prayer shawl in the middle of Jerusalem, the place where our redemption was purchased by the precious blood of Jesus.

Thank you, Lord, for Your healing – not only physically, but for healing my heart, my mind, and my spirit. “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for You are my praise.” (Jeremiah 17:14) Amen!