I am an egg; I am a cracked egg; I have to stay away; I don’t want others to see my cracks. I am a cracked egg; I have no choice; I have to protect my cracks; I can’t let others touch my vulnerable cracks. I wasn’t born a cracked egg; I am an Omega-3 egg; Created with a special purpose, to be more nutritious, more healthy, and more valuable! Yet my shell is much thinner, I needed to be handled with care. My master wants to preserve me, make me into a salty egg. I was dropped inside a glass jar; I crashed into other eggs… I felt my shell cracking slowly, there is nothing I can do to stop it! Why? Why me? I used to be worth 3 times more than other eggs; Now I am worthless, just soaking in salty water, waiting to be throw away! I am not ready to ask -Why not me?! After what seemed forever, the master opened the jar, carefully scooped me out, gently wiped me clean, and deliberately placed me on a carton. I don’t understand it; there are other eggs in the jar, but I was the one chosen! My master started taking pictures of me, focusing on my cracks, saying how beautiful they are. I am just a cracked egg; I was chosen for a special purpose; I don’t need to hide my cracks now; everyone can see through my cracked shell. I don’t mind it anymore; hopefully they will learn as I did, to see from my master’s eyes: the beauty and usefulness of a cracked egg!
By Judi Chow
I don’t know if you have experienced walking through a street so crowded where people pressing against you. Come to Hong Kong and you will have a taste of “people-mountain, people-sea.” Recently I found myself giving the look to people whom stopped suddenly in front of me. This might be an indication that I have fully adapted to the Hong Kong culture where everyone is always in a hurry. I don’t bother to see the people stopping were receiving a phone call, resting their feet, or figuring out where they were going. My concern was somebody is blocking me and I was in a hurry. I also get irritated when people pressing against my back when waiting in line; I can smell their sweat. I don’t like it when strangers touched me accidentally or intentionally; I needed my personal space. Yet, I remembered long ago, a stranger, a woman, in the crowd intentionally touched Jesus. (Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, or Luke 8:43-48)
She was in a desperate situation.
He has the power to heal her.
She reached out and touched Him.
He felt a release of power.
She was cured immediately.
He asked, “Who touched me?”
She was fearful and trembling.
He kept looking for her
She fell at His feet and told her story.
He called her, daughter.
It was a brief exchange, but that encounter with Jesus changed that woman’s life forever. I wondered why would the omniscience (all knowing) Lord ask this question: who touched me? After all, Jesus was on His way to help a dying girl! That woman just wanted an anonymous healing, but Jesus took the time and made it personal. By asking a simple question: who touched me? Jesus gave her a choice, almost like an invitation to come forward to hear Him called her daughter. In the midst of “people-mountain, people-sea,” Jesus calling her with such intimacy, acknowledging her faith, granting her not only physical healing but spiritual satisfaction as well. If this is not the personal relationship Jesus offers, what is?
As a missionary, how can I counteract this hurry, busy, crowding culture and be sensitive enough to know those around me are in need? In the midst of “people-mountain, people-sea,” how can I learn to ask appropriate and sensitive questions so that I can develop a personal relationship with the one in need? How can I… instead of putting myself in Jesus’ shoes wanting to help others, maybe I should place myself in that woman’s shoes to see if I needed healing? Maybe I should reach out and touch Jesus to see if I can hear Him asking: daughter, did you touch me?
I’ve just talked with mom today, glad to hear her voice and knowing she is in good spirit. Thank God and your prayers, she regains some feelings on her thumb, index finger, and palm today. She is a bit shy that I have posted her photo with dad and sharing this event on the web for the world to know, but mom is grateful for all the prayers that helped her regain feelings on her left hand. Next Monday, my friend will take her to see a specialist to follow-up. Please continue to pray for her complete recovery. Miracles do happen everyday!
Thanks for all the prayers, emails, and phone calls showing your care and love. I am experiencing God’s peace and continue to focus on my missionary duty at this time.