For many men where I live, a handshake is the greeting of choice, sometimes even among close friends. One of my friends rejects this norm openly. If I reach out to shake his hand, he grabs it, pulls me in and gives me a hug. I love it. No, it’s more than that. I need it. Touch isn’t optional. I love the story of the leper who fell down at Jesus’ feet asking, “Lord, if you’re willing, you can make...

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