Isaiah 52 says “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news.” But let’s forget about feet, let’s talk about hands. Hands hold, hands shape, hands create, hands grip, hands comfort, hands give, hands do all these things and more. We rely on our hands and see our hands working everyday however the typical person doesn’t usually think about hands. But I do. I am amazed by hands. I notice people’s hands.
As a Christian, I contemplate Christ’s hands that were pierced for my sins. Hands that felt nails rip through the flesh. Hands that had restored sight, hands that had broken bread, hands that had held children, washed feet and done so many miracles. These hands hold scars that bear my name. I love his hands. His hands saved my life.
Years ago I wrote a poem based off of a picture of a woman where the focal point was her hands. I remember wanting to capture her life through those hands. What her hands had done and experienced. Later on I adapted that poem for my Grandfather shortly before he died. My Grandfather had wonderful hands that raised a wonderful family and I wanted to honor him in that way. A few years later, I was asked to contribute to a gift for a couple who is very precious to me. Maybe some of you will recognize who this was written to but I recently found it and realized how true these words are. Hands are important. I want my own hands to be remembered in this way.
Warm and caring, prompt and attentive.
ever-ready to provide.
Hands that have raised their own children
and cared for the children of others.
Comforted in times of sorrow.
Praised in time of joy.
in faithful use.
Hands that organize and cook.
Hands that pour over maps and fold in prayer.
that have held so much.
From camera to sweet grandson.
From the Bible to missionary letters
and still holding one another.
Hands that have felt the world change
and molded it into something better.
still working for the kingdom.
Hands that will dial a phone number just to say hi.
Hands that welcome guests and family into their home.
Hands that hold the hearts of blessed friends.
sanctified and cared for,
enabled and directed by Him
who’s hands bear the ultimate scars.
that will forever be remembered.
Not because of their own greatness
But because of their service to Him.