"We think you have TB," the doctor said with concern. "You'll need to wear this face mask and stay away from people as much as you can. Come back each day for the next three days to get blood draws and sputum tests. We will put you in touch with the Infectious Disease Hospital in Lanzhou when you return back home.”

Unfortunately, my routine chest x-ray had shown some unusual spots, and so I had been scheduled for a follow-up CT scan at Tianjin's International Hospital. I hadn't been worried though because I felt sure that the closer look would reveal nothing of concern. The doctor's unexpected words startled me.

In a fog, I walked the 30 minutes back to my solitary apartment and tried to process the news.

The loneliness and shame of lepers felt very real to me all of a sudden. Now, more than ever, I could understand how they must have felt as they were forced to live on the outskirts of society, with “Unclean!” warnings wherever they went.

I felt contagious because of my likely diagnosis.

I was now a threat to the healthy because of my germs.

I carried an unwanted label as a result of my mask.

I experienced both fear and isolation.

I needed to go into hiding and place myself out of touch.

I thought about the boldness it would have taken for lepers to face the reproval of the crowds in order to approach Jesus. And what a risk it was for Jesus to actually touch them when no one else would, in order to restore them to physical wholeness as well as to community life. His touch broke through the barriers that kept lepers at a distance, and the complete gift of restoration he offered them could not have been fully appreciated by those in society's mainstream.

While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” And immediately the leprosy left him. (Luke 5:12-13)