Roger Bothwell | My Father’s Hands
19
post-template-default,single,single-post,postid-19,single-format-standard,woocommerce-no-js,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,vertical_menu_enabled,qode-title-hidden,qode_grid_1300,columns-3,qode-theme-ver-17.0,qode-theme-bridge,disabled_footer_bottom,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.5.5,vc_responsive

My Father’s Hands

I startled myself today.  As I started to type my eyes went from the screen down to the keyboard and my father’s hands were sticking out from my shirtsleeves.Those were the hands that toiled to care for our family.  Those were the hands that played marbles with me by digging holes in the ground.  Those were the hands that wiped away the blood from my knees while I was learning to ride a bicycle.  Someone might add those were the hands that spanked you.  But, no.  He never did.  My mom did that!
 
Some of my favorite texts are about hands.  Psalm 19:1 is great. “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”   And then there is Psalm 119:73, “Your hands made me and formed me; give me understanding to learn your commands.”
 
My favorite hand text is John 10:28.  It is about a hand much better than any ordinary hand. “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.”  This must gall Satan.  He had eternal life and threw it away.  The idea that you and I have it has to fill him with disgust because he knows what awaits us.  He knows what wonders we will receive.  And there is nothing he can do about it because Jesus’ hand is so powerful and so loving.  The only way to get out of Jesus’ hand is to ask and surely we are not that stupid. 
 
I loved my human father’s hands because they made me feel safe.  Jesus’ hands do that a hundred times over.  If it isn’t cloudy tonight, step outside, look up and see the work of our heavenly Father’s hands.