Caring In The Form Of Casserole

There’s something in Southern women that like to take care of people.

I know I do.

Death in the family?

Bring a casserole.

Someone’s birthday?

Leave a cupcakes sitting on their desk.

Friend getting married?

Attend shower, paying careful attention to the registry to buy something tasteful and useful, while not spending an arm and a leg on the crystal goblets that somehow end up on most registries.

I think it’s something about feeling helpful.

We want people to know we care.

We want people to feel loved.

We want people to feel seen.

But recently, I’ve been thinking about how Jesus cared for people. And sometimes, I think we’re missing what’s most important when it comes to caring for others.

This morning, I was reading a story I’ve read time and time before, and I was struck with a new idea of how Jesus loved.

¹² While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy.^[b] When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”¹³ Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” And immediately the leprosy left him. 

Now at first glance, this is like many of the stories of the healing miracles that Jesus performed.

But today, my eyes were drawn to one phrase.

“Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man.”

Leprosy was a terrible disease in Jesus’ time.

A skin disease that caused terrible pain.

A disease that was incurable.

A disease that was visible, seen by anyone that passed you on the street.

A disease that left you an outcast.

This man had probably suffered from this disease from years.

And that day, he was at his wits end.

That day, he threw himself on the ground in front of the man that was the answer to years of prayers.

A man that was a celebrity of his time.

That day, this man ran threw a large crowd,

Probably causing mass panic at the risk of causing an outbreak,

And threw himself at the feet of Jesus.

And Jesus healed him.

But that’s not the part of the story that touched my heart today.

The part of the story that caused my eyes to well up with tears was that Jesus looked down at this feet,

Saw a man suffering with from an incurable disease,

Who had been an outcast for many years,

Who probably hadn’t been treated with dignity or respect since the disease showed it’s first signs,

Who probably hadn’t had any sort of human contact,

And reached down and touched him.

The exact opposite of what was socially acceptable,

Or medically wise,

Of what to do when it came to dealing with people with leprosy.

I know Jesus could have healed him without touching him.

Jesus could have simply blinked and the man’s ailment would have disappeared.

But I think Jesus looked down at his feet,

And saw a man suffering,

A man lonely,

A man downtrodden,

And saw what he needed most was not healing,

But to feel like he was cared for,

Loved,

Seen.

And so he reached out and touched him, an act the man probably hadn’t felt in years.

And so this morning, I want to rethink the way I care for others.

I want to take a step back,

Look at those around me,

And take a moment to think,

What will make this person feel cared for?

What will make this person feel loved?

What will make this person feel seen?

And while it may come in the shape of a casserole, or a cupcake, or a crystal goblet,

I think most of the time it may be as simple as reaching out and holding someone’s hand.

Or sitting with someone while they cry,

Or having a dance party to celebrate a big accomplishment.

I want to care the way Jesus cared.

I want to love the way Jesus loved.

And that comes with taking time to stop,

And see what that person might really need.