These Hands

There’s a temptation to think that there’s no one left. That there’re no godly teenagers in our schools, streets, workplaces, and neighborhoods. That there is no one wanting to follow in the ways of the Lord. That the next generation is worse off than the last. That the sins of yesterday are too big for the grace offered today. That our churches are failing and the youth of tomorrow are nonexistent.

Because that is what we hear. That is what we tell ourselves. That is what we start to believe.

It’s the buzz in our churches and the headlines on TV. When we take our eyes off Christ and look to the side, it can be a great cause to despair. A pit of despondency. An opportunity to clinch our control-freaked hands to pull the reigns tighter and choke out any glimmer of hope.

But let me tell you what I see. Because it’s nothing what the world would have you believe.

These hands represent hearts transformed by the kindness of Jesus. Each of these hands represent the Holy Spirit working in ways we may never understand. Each of these hands represent faith on display. A hunger for God. Made new by the blood of Jesus. Changed by the Father of mercies. A desire to be more like Jesus. An acknowledgement of the struggle. A propensity toward sin. A hatred of iniquity. An evidence of sanctification. The blossoming of fruit. A longing to belong. A sure future secure in Christ.

So do not feast on lies that would have you believe you’re the only one standing firm.

There are many who are submitting themselves to Christ and resisting temptation (James 4), who are walking in a manner worthy of their calling (Eph 4:1), who are always abounding in the work of the Lord (1 Cor 15:58), who are not being conformed to the world (Rom 12:2). You are not alone in taking up your cross (Luke 9:23), in holding fast to sound doctrine (2 Tim 1:13), in letting the Word dwell in you richly (Col 3:16), and in putting on the hope of salvation (1 Thess 5:8). There is no reason to despair for those who have been set free by the gospel of Jesus Christ. When we keep our gaze transfixed on the nail pierced hands of our risen King Jesus, we see the life he lived in our place (Heb 4:15), the punishment for sin that we deserved (Rom 6:23), the wrath of God poured out on Jesus in our place (2 Cor 5:21), the defeat of sin and the removal of death’s sting (1 Cor 15:55).

Do not entertain the tempting voice.

You are not alone in following the one true God. Breath in the gospel deeply day in and day out. The blood of Jesus is still effective today to save anyone who calls on his name. He will by no means cast out those who come to him (John 6:37). Those who call on the name of the Lord for salvation are sealed with the Holy Spirit. Sealed. Indwelled. Kept. Preserved. (Eph 1) God is still in the business of saving those who are his own (Rom 10:13). We can trust that God’s purposes have been, and are being, and will be accomplished (Phil 1:6). Even if it appears that no one is following the Lord, we can trust that the good hand of the Lord will hold you fast until the day you see him face to face (Jude 24).

These are the hands that are nudging me closer to the heart of Christ (Matt 11:29) and encourage me to love and good works as the Day is drawing near (Heb 10:24). We are not alone.

Jesus, strong and kind

It really wasn’t anything big. The song, I mean. It was the song that often pointed to me to the cross of Christ in the twilight of my angst. But here I was, sitting down having my thrown together lunch, enjoying the few moments of solace that a mother of 5 usually only dreams of, when it wrecked me, in all the best, commemorative ways.

“Jesus said that if I fear I should come to him”

About an hour earlier, I had just finished what 2 Corinthians 1 presses into. You see, I have been faithfully comforted in all my affliction by the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort for the purpose of comforting those who are, too, afflicted. It’s been 2 years now. Strange to think of it in a time line. But it’s been 2 years since the shadows of the night and the movies of the mind plagued my restless and feeble heart. The wave of despondency crashing without warning, the helplessness made obvious. Wrestling in faith with the goodness of God, my heart was stretched paper thin. But what she said was an echo of the past.

“No one else can be my shield. I should come to him.”

When she expounded her experiences, it was like looking into a mirror that was 2 years the younger. The same mental reel of worst case scenarios. The same loop around the block because the rear view showed the same car for a touch too long. The same explosive anger that comes out like a volcano. But it’s been two years now. Only by the grace of God.

“For the Lord is good and faithful he will keep us day and night.”

While I grappled through the conviction of God’s grand goodness in the saturation of the psalms, the more convinced I became, not in theory but by honest trial and fire. That God ordains all that comes to pass. That God purposes all for the good of those who are his. That God’s concern is for his glory and will do what he wills to make it known. That God’s definition of “good” doesn’t always align with my finite understanding of the word; but that he is trustworthy, even whilst sleeping with the lights on and chronically watching out the windows.

“We can always run to Jesus…”

I wouldn’t sign up to suffer and despair again. I would not voluntarily walk through mental distress and physical anguish . But glory to God for his good hand in my life—and lest you be confused or misunderstand me—glory to God for his good hand in not only taking away my affliction, but for his mightily affectionate, good hand in allowing, purposing, using, giving, causing, ordaining the affliction in the first place. For now I know more intimately that my God is good, and he is for me, and he is for the preservation of his great name in me.

“…Jesus strong and kind.”