These hands….
The following was shared by a friend…not sure where it came from…
“my Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat, I wondered if he was OK.
https://www.biblestudytools.com/bible-study/topical-studies/what-was-the-crucifixion-of-jesus.html
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine.Thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice."I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him."Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked."I mean really looked at your hands?"I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been thetools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn sons.Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that Iwas married and loved someone special.They trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouseand walked my daughter down the aisle.They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed andcleansed the rest of my body.They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.And to this day, when not much of anything else of me worksreal well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and againcontinue to fold in prayer.These hands are the mark of where I've been and theruggedness of my life.But more importantly, it will be these hands that God willreach out and take when he leads me home.And with my hands, He will lift me to His side and thereI will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember when God reached out and took my grandpa's hands and led him home.So, when my hands are hurt or sore I think of Grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.”As I read this, I thought of the photograph I took of my dad’s hands as he was in his final days…he had done so much with his hands as well…he would pat your shoulder, arm, head as an encouragement…give you a hug and pat your back…He had the shaken the hands of many people, written volumes of reports and papers, roped cattle, trained horses, cut wood, planted trees….turned pages of countless books he read including his worn Bible…Thank YOU…
You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me;your help has made me great.
Ps.18.35
You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.
Ps.145.16
When Jesus came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cleansed of his leprosy.
Matt.8.1-3
There some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged Jesus to place his hand on him.
Mark.7.32
The Lord’s hand was with them, and a great number of people believed and turned to the Lord.
Acts.11.21
I, Paul, write this greeting in my own hand. Remember my chains. Grace be with you.
Col.4.18
Blessed God…
No comments:
Post a Comment