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Friday, December 23, 2011

Hands

Last night as Stefani and I were at the Ohio Valley Mall finishing up our shopping for mommy, suddenly her hand slipped into mine.  I looked down at this beautiful gift from God and told her the story of how we taught her to hold mommy and daddy's hands when she was just a toddler.  I would at first say the word, hands, and placed her hand into mine.  When this had been done for a while, it became normal to put my hand down beside me and soon find a tiny hand in mine.  So, as we walked in the mall, daddy and daughter walked hand in hand as if it was the most natural thing in our life. 

I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands Psalm 63:4

We now attend a non-denominational church, but from a baptist background, the raising of hands was not done in public worship.  I have since learned God desires his children to raise their hands toward him in prayer AND worship.  Just as a small child raises his/her hands to be picked up, God's children may assume the same posture.  Also as a child of God's I want to place my hands purposefully into his as a sign of submission and obedience.  This is neither a harsh submission nor a mandatory obedience, but one derived from the love I have for him because of the greater love he has for me. 

Jesus told his disciples to follow him and at times called them teknia, or little children.  I like the image of being a teknia of Jesus.  It is not the word used for a baby or newborn, but the word for a child under training.  I like the thought of placing my hand into his.  Stefani would at times take my hand to examine it.  She looked at my rings (wedding band and seminary class ring), my fingernails, or the hair on the back of them.  Why not?  She was placing hers in mine.  Likewise if I had the chance to see the hands of Jesus, like Thomas, I would stare at the hole in the center.  I would be amazed at the rough, calloused hands of the son of a carpenter.  Why not?  I was placing my life into his.

As I showed this post to one of the hospice nurses, she told me how when her daughter Ashley had been born they needed a sign for her name because the dad's side of the family was totally deaf.  Ashley's deaf sign was a closed hand (letter A) in the palm of the hand (as it was placed in her mom's soon after birth).  It is amazing what lessons newborns and toddlers can teach their grown-up parents. 

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