In Your Hands

Friday, April 21, 2000
Listen while you read: "O Come And Mourn With Me Awhile"1 (Lyrics)

Isaiah 49:15-16 – I will not forget you…I have carved you on the palm of my hand.
Luke 23:46 – Into your hands I commit my spirit.

Have you felt the hands of Christ? Do you ever sense his comforting presence? I have a beautiful little figurine of a very young, trusting child cuddled in a caressing hand. On the bottom is this verse: "I will not forget you…I have carved you on the palm of my hand". I stare at this figurine and feel it… a comforting presence that encircles me.

I have often wondered about the hands of Christ. Hands are that part of us with which we share comfort and love, giving so much to others. To entrust something precious into another's hands takes a lot of trust. To absolutely give ourselves into the hands of Christ takes utter trust, like that of a child needing a cuddle. But, oh, the delight of being able to do it!

Jesus showed me the way one day long ago when I was entering the teen years. In Bermuda, where I grew up, there was an inter-denominational three-hour service on Good Friday. It was a test of a child's maturity to be able to sit through it. As I sat on and on I didn't wiggle, not because my dad was preaching, but because I was enthralled with the hands of God. "Into your hands I commit my spirit" reached deep into me as dad held up his hands and exclaimed how wonderful it is to trust God's hands so completely. I wanted that, and I experienced it — a wonderful encircling of comfort and love that has never left me. Now in my senior years I can look back and see! It's true. "I will not forget you…I have carved you on the palm of my hand."

Prayer: O God, dear Father of our Lord Jesus, thank you for holding us throughout this day in the palm of your hand. Here we are receiving strength to face what we must do, love to share with others, and faith to be joyful in all that happens today. We totally trust you with the way this day unfolds as you hold us close. And for those times when we wriggle away, forgive us for we are like children, exploring your world on our own without your help. Hold us gently as we return. Amen.


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About the author:

Iris Ford
(deceased)

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