Introduction

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Why This Book?

I was listening to my favorite songs when I encountered something I had never heard before. It brought me so poignantly to tears that I could not control them. I must have listened to that song four-score and seven times already. It was like a book that keeps you locked in for the next page – then before you know it, you have reached the next chapter. It left me with such an impression that I just had to write about it. I wanted to tell somebody. I wanted to go to the King.

I remembered the story of the woman with an issue of blood, whose ailment had drug on twelve long years. I saw her making her way through the growing crowd, to just touch the hem of Christ’s garment. She had an uncommon faith and a persistent problem. It was the kind of thorn that would make some wonder, “where is God?” She must have been praying through those dozen years. She must have known people who called her everything but a believer, since the thorn in her flesh was not removed. But it could not have been that she doubted God’s power, for when she reached that hem, Jesus immediately turned himself. He said that a healing virtue had gone out from Him.

He asked His disciples, “Who touched me.” The men must have thought that was a strange question. There were people everywhere. There was a hand on every side. Why in the world would Jesus ask, “Who touched me?” But it wasn’t the outstretched hand that reached Jesus; it was a heart crying, “Take me to the King.” It was a faith like a mustard seed – small and mighty. She had her heart set on an answer. She was going to stay there until she had a breakthrough. She was going to keep pressing her way past the wide-eyed spectators. It didn’t matter what they had come to do, she came to see the King.

I saw that woman in my imagination. I felt the life running out of her as she kept on pressing. She had to reach the King. I understood that motivation, the persistence that she must have walked with, knowing in her heart that she could die.

I remembered walking in a hospital, I barely even knew my name. I had an issue of blood and a mind of confusion. I needed to touch Jesus. I needed somebody, anybody, to take me to the King. But sometimes when you look good, people don’t know that you’re broken down, They don’t believe your report, when you say you have an issue of blood twelve years. But God knows the heart.

And sometimes when Jesus troubles the water, you get passed over even though your need is great, because you’ve been waiting so long, you’ve stopped believing that your healing is on His agenda. But that woman who was pushing through to Jesus, she hadn’t lost the faith. She had lived so long with a weakness, she was in a desperate situation. Have you ever been desperate for Jesus?

She was chasing after Him with all her might. She must have looked slow to the rest of the world. She was wounded, but she refused to lose the battle. She was longsuffering, she had suffered long, and she was not taking no for an answer. She was chasing Jesus, in a pressing way, she had to get through the groupies and the mockers – who were just there to see what they could see. She wasn’t there to see a miracle. She was there to be a miracle. She was determined, to be the next in line. She had to get past everyone, even the ones who needed help. She was desperate. She was this close. She couldn’t let Jesus get away.

She didn’t have anybody to lift her over the crowd, she had to get up from a bed of affliction, and get to Jesus even if she had crawl there. She didn’t know anybody, who could give her a backstage pass. She had no status, no clout, and some would have said she didn’t have a prayer, but she kept on moving. She must have tried everything else; nobody else could give her satisfaction. She had to reach Jesus. She knew He could fix it. She had to get His attention. She couldn’t pay for His help and she couldn’t repay His service; bet she wasn’t worried, because salvation is free! She had to reach out and touch the King. She didn’t have time to explain; and she knew Jesus would understand. He knew all about her. When Jesus said, “Who touched me?” She was already healed. The virtue had gone forth, and the Word said that the blood dried, and she was made whole from that very instant.

You might be like I was; or you might know someone who is (share this book), who needs somebody, anybody, to take them to the King. Anyone like me has been through too much to take another wrong turn. We have spent too much time, walking around the wilderness. We refuse to take another lap. We have to get to the King. Our lives depend on it. We’re chasing after Him. We don’t have time to waste. We’ve seen the mountaintop, and fallen into the valley, we’ve been wounded, and cast down, but we are not forsaken. We might not have wealth, but God shall supply all our needs. We might not have status, but God is not respecter of persons. We may not have much to bring, but we bear our soul to the Father. When we finally reach the throne, we hold nothing back. We need to touch Jesus. We may not be perfect, but we still have hope.

We have almost crossed over, but God snatched us back from death. We have something to do. We have something to say. We have people to heal. We could have taken the express, but we took the long way home and wound up next to nowhere. But God is not through with us. We just need to touch Jesus. We still might be Moses, for our generation. We need an Aaron and a Hur, to hold up our arms, because we’ve been predestinated, we’ve been chosen, and we will bear much fruit. We need to get to the King.

We still have hope. We still have hope. We still have hope…

Take Me To The King

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