People are recommended to give at least eight hugs a day to keep healthy. I have a confession to make. I think my minimum lies somewhere around 10 to 12.
Gary Chapman, a relationship counselor and author, deduced that each person expresses love to other people in different ways and that there are five primary ways that people show love: words of affirmation, acts of service, gifts, quality time, and physical touch. While every person exhibits all five of these "love languages" in some way, there is one that is more prominent than the others. I show love best through physical touch. If you tell me of your triumphs, I will squeal and high-five you and throw myself into your arms. If you find yourself in a dark place and are scared, then I will grab your hand and I will not let go, trying to press my love into your palm. If I see tears dribbling down your face, it is almost a reflex to sweep you into a hug. It is how I try to hold people up.
When I was small, I was a picky eater because I didn't like the texture of some foods. I shouted, "Tighter!" in response to my parents' hugs. I hid under tables and in corners, and I still do like small, cozy places. It feels like the space is hugging me. I like holding hands and gentle, reassuring touches. I love sand between my toes and running my fingers along the bars of a fence. My boyfriend chuckles at me and asks me why I do this, and I respond, with arms spread wide, "I want to touch the whole world!"
In my experience, the church has had a strange view on physical touch. To some extent, it shies away from physical touch, only really commenting on the harm it can do. It is true that physical touch is more powerful than many realize, and as a physical touch person I know this well. It is capable of conveying deep love, passion, hatred, anger, sorrow, compassion. It can hurt, but it can also heal. Jesus used physical touch in his ministry to literally heal people, but also to reach them emotionally. He reached for the hands of the lame and drew them to their feet. He lovingly washed the roughened feet of his friends. Physical touch is not only a source of pleasure and "warm fuzzies." It is a means of expressing love and comfort; it is a tool. It is the result of trust and friendship. It is a beautiful thing, and it is a gift.
The one place where the church smiles upon physical touch and tangible experiences is in the area of worship. I am standing in a dark chapel service, singing until my throat is raw. Everyone around me is crying. I am crying too, but for a very different reason. In the darkness, I lift my aching eyes to the soaring ceiling of the chapel, my mouth wide in a silent cry. Why not me? Why won't you touch me? After the service, my friends gather in the lobby, talking about how the finger of God touched them.
"Wow, what a great service!"
"I really connected with the worship tonight."
"God was really present."
I smile and nod, excuse myself, and wrap my arms around my middle in a bathroom stall.
It takes months for me to understand that it's OK that I don't have tangible experiences during every worship service. As I struggle with my feelings of inadequacy, I find that, strangely enough, the lack of a physical experience forges links of trust between my God and me, and I find that other people wrestle with this too. I am not alone. Worship is not about me, and it has never been about me. In my deepest heart, I know that I am loved by God even when I don't feel him. Physical touch is the strongest way I give and receive love, but that does not mean that I am inept in giving and receiving love in other ways. God has given people the ability to recognize and express love creatively in a multitude of ways.
Whatever the way that you primarily show love to people, it is a gift. Use it with wisdom. Embrace it. Delight in it. Delight in the way that it blesses those around you.
Now get over here and let me hug you.
