Sustenance for The Spirit
If you have ever had any involvement in U.I.L. Speech Events, you are probably familiar with an old classic poem entitled, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand”. I have heard it read by gangly middle school and awkward junior high students in oral prose practices and competitions a number of times. The poem was written in 1921 by Myra Brooks Welch, and continues to stand the test of time. It beautifully describes an old violin that was brought to auction, not perceived as anything of value, as reflected by low bids. Until, “the Master” comes forward to play the instrument,
“he played a melody pure and sweet
as the angel sings.”
After hearing the lovely tune, the bidding continues in the thousands, rather than begging for one dollar, or five, or possibly ten, as when the bidding first began. The poem then relates the experience to humans who are in need of the “Master’s Touch” and the change that only then can occur.
Touch is an important sensory action among human beings. It is physical, something we can see, and communicates care for someone. So that gets me to thinking…in our world of distancing, touch is almost off the table for a while, except in the exceptional cases. This can be problematic, especially for those who are “touchy-feely,” where touch both confirms and validates relationship with others. I was talking to a friend recently, this particular individual being one of those huggy ones I just mentioned, and as we visited about reaching out to those we knew who might be struggling, she talked about her phone calls. She has a “list,” which I’m sure changes often, of people that she calls to check on, since she couldn’t physically see all of them in person, and of course hug them. As we talked, it was acknowledged that right now, our voice was our best substitute for our touch.
I like to text, and I had to confess to her that it was a little out of my proverbial comfort zone to actually call someone, but as I was saying that, I knew that social media, texting, and any other form of digital interaction does not replace a person’s real voice. When I want to know how my kids are really doing, I much prefer a phone conversation, because I can hear their emotion through their tone, inflections and actual voice.
I’m saying that I think, temporarily at least, we need to revise the poem title to “The Touch of the Master’s Voice.” Mixing sensory metaphors is not new. In Ephesians 1:18 and 19a Paul writes, “I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” We know our hearts don’t have eyes, but what beautiful language to express how we must perceive the world around us as Christian people. It takes multiple sensory cues to get a complete picture and understanding of living spiritually. Our senses combine the physical to grasp the greater spiritual-ness before us.
Challenges to our senses are not new. Our brains are even wired for personal interaction, which has presented us with new struggles, not being in the physical presence of people as much, and for some, hardly ever. In Mark 5 and Luke 8, we read of Jairus, a man of some earthly importance, who traveled to Jesus with the sole purpose of wanting Jesus to personally drop what He was doing to follow him home to heal his sick daughter. Mary and Martha wanted Jesus to leave where he was ministering to come to Bethany and heal their brother Lazarus, who was by the way a very good friend of Jesus’. In both instances, Jesus heals, but his “touch” comes after death, raising each of them to life. Maybe the “Master’s” touch can be present in more ways than we can comprehend, even distanced.
Currently in the ongoing pandemic, our fellowship with one another must, to some degree, depend on substitutes that may be equally or more powerful than we imagine. God can do that (Ephesians 3:20). Just as Jesus could perform some of his most powerful miracles (It can’t get much more powerful than raising a sick girl and a best friend from death to life), from a distance, we can continue to minister to one another by adjusting to texts, voices, words and sight over touch, even hugs. This is not our preference, but let’s not for one second believe that God can’t make it work for his glory, which is always good.
I encourage you to call someone, even if it’s not your preferred communication. Send someone a card the old fashioned way, with your personal message, from you to them. Reach out in a quick text message, possibly starting a conversation that renews a relationship. Share Jesus, distanced. Embrace His example of love, and let the Spirit do the rest. Be aware of your senses today…especially the touch of the “Master’s” voice and the “eyes of your heart.” Your awareness is faith strengthening and spiritually grounding, connecting you to God’s marvelous work in you. Have a wonderful day!
