By Andrea Lingle

Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:9

"Just take this step, the horizon will take care of itself." (Mackesy)

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I was an undergraduate sitting in a film studies class. I took the class because it fit my schedule, not because I was interested in film. I am not interested in film. I have not seen very many of them. I don’t have much to say about them. 

During the course of the class we spent some time on film noir. I don’t remember much except that, apparently, filming a person’s face with dramatic light and dark effects was a trademark of the genre. I watched film after film, not getting much more astute, but finding that there was more to it than I thought. Those were not just accidental lines of light and dark, they were carefully planned details that created an atmosphere. The more you looked at it, the more there was to see. Not only was there a dialog between light and dark, in every frame decisions were made about what would be communicated and how. The dynamics between characters played out, not just in dialog, but with light and angle and framing. 

When the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians exhorting them to excellence, one would hope that he did not expect every member of his many congregations to win the hundred yard dash. Wealth, power, and education did not register as excellence with Jesus, but what did?

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. She was unclean, broke, and sick. She had asked for help, but help was not available. Then there was a teacher, a rabbi, a Messiah, and she took a chance. She risked heartbreak by reaching out to grab ahold of the hem of one she hoped could heal her. She was part of a crowd that was pressing in on Jesus from all sides. This was not a casual crowd. These were people who were following Jesus, hungry for his message and miracles. Surely, his tunic was askew with the clutching hands. The needs of people of any time and place are enough to render the hem of any passing miracle-worker grubby.

So what was it about this woman? What healed her? We do not know anything other than Jesus knew that she had touched him. She had reached out her hand, in fearful faith, and touched the hem of a passing teacher. Certainly this does not provide a foolproof three-step process to health and well-being. This is a scrap of a plan. 

We have been studying what is deeply real and true, and what have we learned? To dare to look again, ask again, believe again? To reach out your hand after twelve years of disappointment? Probably there is no single answer to the question, but I have learned this: living toward what is deeply real and true is more about framing how we live than establishing unshakable certainties. Will I choose courage in the face of cynicism, and, if I dare, how will I live? Will I choose kindness even though it makes me vulnerable? Will I choose the hard work of community even when it seems ridiculous?

Given that we all have to live in this place at this time, how will we choose to frame our story?