Leprosy

He knew it was his last chance. Covered in leprosy, he could hardly walk. Open sores covered his skin. People ran from him as he approached. Most of his life he’d had to walk, ringing a bell and shouting the word ‘unclean’. It was a declaration of sickness, of being a second class citizen. Of being an outcast, unloved, uncared for.

The disease had been with him for many years. He had left his family, unable to see them for fear of infecting them too. Alone. Desperate. Near death.

And this was it. Ignoring all the rules, he crawled the final yards towards him as best he could. Falling on his face, unable to support his weight, he cried out ‘Lord, if you want to, you could heal me’. A cry of faith. A cry of desperation. And then the words spoken back. ‘I am willing. Be clean.’

At that moment, all the years rolled away. All the fear, hate, poverty, sickness. Gone in an instant. Instead of sores, fresh baby-like skin. A miracle. He could go back. He could return home. He could live again.

That was then. 2000 years ago. This is now: There are over 266,000 new cases of leprosy diagnosed each year. It’s still here.

Last Saturday I attended my first board meeting as a trustee director of the Leprosy Mission, England and Wales. As much as I am able, I will stretch out the hand of Christ and say the words ‘be clean’.

(You can read the story of the leper in the gospel of Luke, chapter 5.)