What better place to be?

Last week, a particularly harrowing week, my friend Jill wrote to tell me the following:

Please know you've been prayed for...and will be lifted up into His glorious, tender, loving hands...

Hands that brought healing—of every kind.

Hands that lifted up—helped, supported, built.

Hands that were eager to touch—

   anyone untouchable.

Hands that pulled children into His lap.

Hands that slapped His knee when He laughed.

Hands that lifted up bread of provision—

   and distributed nourishment to thousands.

Hands that formed knots in a whip—

   that lashed out at true injustice, 

   that cleansed what represented His Father. 

Hands that broke bread, that washed the feet of those closest to Him—

   and the one who betrayed Him. 

Hands that were pierced.

Hands that are forever scarred, that are always lifted in praise to God.

Gentle, kind, loving, firm, provisional, covenant-making and keeping, glorious hands.

Today I share this prayer with you, in whatever may be your struggle.

Isaiah 49:16 

Photo by Amanda J. Photography 

"Hands" used by permission

I'd rather be dependent than independent

On this day of independence celebration, I celebrate my utter dependence upon a God who saves and delivers.

Friday morning I read Psalm 31 in which Israel’s shepherd-king David wrote, “My times are in your hands.” That night just before midnight as my husband and I drove into a sudden downpour on Monument Hill just north of Colorado Springs, those words came back to me again.

Forward movement on a watery roadway can result in hydroplaning which can lead to fish-tailing that can throw a moving vehicle into a vicious spin – much like the tea-cup ride at the carnival, but without the connecting support.

“My times are in Your hands.”

What else but the hands of God could have kept us secure as we spun across I-25, took out a sign post and shot through an opening that just happened to be right there in the guard rail? What else could have sent us into the median rather than off the embankment on the edge of the highway? What else could have kept us from colliding with other cars on the interstate, and helped us out of our own, shaken but safe when it was totaled?

“My times are in Your hands.”

There is peace in the true, unfailing Word of God.

But had we opened our eyes to look into the face of Jesus – a thought I carried with me as we spun – we would have known even more than we know now the truth of His unfailing love.

Thank God that I can depend upon a savior who saves. Thank God for His faithfulness and help and healing. Thank God that I am not alone on a highway in the middle of a rainy night, for He is with me.

My times are in His hands.