We live in a world that loves to label. From the moment we're born, tags are attached: boy or girl, rich family or poor, healthy or sick, talented or ordinary, successful or struggling. We get labeled by our appearance, our bank account, our job title, our past mistakes, and our current struggles. Some labels are whispered, others shouted. Some are worn like badges, others like scars. Some labels may seem to 'define' us, some 'confine' us, and sometimes, make us feel utterly unseen for who we truly are.
Today, I want to introduce you to a man bearing one of the most crushing labels imaginable in his time - "Leper".
In older days, leprosy wasn't just a devastating physical illness; it was a social and religious death sentence. Anyone confirmed with leprosy has to:
· Live outside the camp, away from family, friends, and community.
· Avoid all physical contact.
· Call out "Unclean! Unclean!" to warn anyone approaching.
The label "unclean" in this context meant separation from everything that gave life meaning. The label defined his entire existence. He wasn't "a man with leprosy" to society; he was "a leper." His identity gets swallowed by his condition.
Imagine such a man. Years of isolation. Years of feeling the sting of rejection, the ache of loneliness. He’s heard of the teacher, the healer. Hope, fragile but persistent, flickers within him. As the teacher descends the mountain, surrounded by a large crowd, this man does something astonishing, something requiring immense courage born of desperation. He breaks the rules. He pushes through the crowd. He kneels right before the teacher and says, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” He acknowledges the teacher’s power (“you can”), but he also lays bare his deepest wound – the question of his worthiness. "If you are willing..." Does his label make him unworthy of compassion? Unworthy of healing? Unworthy of touch? I don't know. He had likely never seen a man with leprosy being healed before. So he knelt in humility to seek his healing - a miracle that would change his life forever. The teacher doesn't lecture. He doesn't call for a priest for inspection (as required by the law during that time). He first reaches out his hand and touches the man with leprosy.
The 'untouchable’ was touched. In that single, deliberate, and compassionate act, the teacher shatters the label. Before healing, before the miracle, the teacher restores his humanity. The touch says louder than any words: "You are not 'unclean' to me. You are not your disease. You are worthy of human connection, right here, right now, as you are." Then the teacher speaks: “I am willing. Be clean!” his willingness is absolute. The healing is instantaneous and complete. The physical ailment is gone. But the deeper healing–restoration of dignity, the affirmation of worth–began the moment the teacher stretched out his hand.
We all carry labels (given and received): Maybe yours isn't "leper," but perhaps it's "failure," "not good enough," "too old," "too young," "different," "broken," "burden." Or maybe we've been quick to label others: "difficult," "lazy," "entitled," "strange." Today, let us examine the labels we wear - How did they confine us? and the labels we pin on others. How they wound you?
The above story is taken from the Bible (Matthew 8:1-4). I was not a strong Christian when I read this story for the first time. But there is something about it. It taught me a few things. Like the leper, it takes courage to approach God, or even another person, when we feel labeled and unworthy. Bring your whole, labeled self to Christ. He is willing. His touch still heals, restores, and renames us: “Beloved.” “Clean”. “Beautiful.”
Seeing beyond the label: God saw the man, not just the leprosy (The disease). He saw the inherent worth beneath the affliction. We are called to cultivate that same vision. Who in our lives, our community, our world, feels labeled, unseen, untouchable? Can we look beyond the surface – the struggle, the difference, the sin, the circumstance – and see the image of God within? Can we offer the dignity of being truly seen? We are called to be agents of that restorative touch. It might not be physical, but it can be a kind word, a listening ear without judgment, a practical act of inclusion, a refusal to participate in gossip or labeling. It’s reaching out across the barriers society erects.
Our testimony of restoration: When God heals us – whether from physical illness, spiritual brokenness, or the deep wounds of rejection – we carry a testimony. Like the man sent to the priest, our restored lives can be a powerful witness to God’s transforming grace, challenging the systems and attitudes that seek to label and exclude. We become living proof that God’s love shatters every confining tag.
In the eyes of God, your label does not define you. Your past does not confine you. Your struggles do not negate your worth. He sees you – the precious, unique soul beneath every layer of judgment, pain, or societal tag. He is willing. He reaches out. His touch brings cleansing, wholeness, and restores your true name: Child of God. May we have the courage to bring our labeled selves to Christ for healing. May we have the grace to see beyond the labels others wear. And may we have the compassion to reach out with the healing touch of Christ’s love, affirming the inherent dignity and worth of every single soul we encounter. For in doing so, we participate in God’s kingdom, where labels fall away, and all are known simply and profoundly, as his beloved.