The image (below) grabbed my attention.
Two hands, one reaching down, the other reaching up.
In the image I could see the multitude of times that I reached up for the security of the hand of the Father, Creator and Redeemer of my soul.
I remembered the tears falling down my cheeks, the throbbing of my head with worry, and the rapid heartbeat in a desperate state of fear. These were not one memory, one experience, but numerous ones, over the years of my life. Moments that could have been defined as desperate, hopeless, fretful or in despair.
These are normative experiences of any life. They are what we share in our human existence of life. Some days and seasons leave you breathless, lifeless and hopeless. The light at the end of the tunnel seems extinguished, or, at the very least, hidden from sight.
When we reach the point of total desperation, it is often then that we have the strength and wisdom to lift our eyes, our hand to the one who can save us … even if, when we raise our hand, it is in the form of a fist.
Acts 17:27 tells us:
“they might look for God,
somehow reach for him,
and find him.
Of course,
he is never far from any one of us.”
His hand is always waiting for us to raise ours. He already knows our heartache, our hardship … yet we need to raise our hand to receive the love, the support and, perhaps, even the resolution or redemption, that he holds out to us.
May we life our hand, accepting his in ours, for “he is never far from any one of us.”
itsawonderfilledlife 