The Hands Of My Father

The Hands Of My Father

Yet I still belong to you; you hold my right hand. Psalm 73:23

Growing up on the farm, I often went fishing with my dad. As a little boy, I held my father’s hand as we crossed over Mulberry Creek to get to one of our favorite fishing holes. His grip gave me confidence that I was safe and cared for. But as I grew older, I no longer took his hand when he held it out. I thought it looked like a sign of weakness for a “big boy” to hold his father’s hand.

“I can do it on my own,” I said, and my father reluctantly pulled back.

After graduating from high school, I headed off to college. For the first time, I was on my own physically. But I felt alone spiritually. I had decided I didn’t believe in God anymore after a family tragedy. During this time, I was unmoored. I was vulnerable to whatever way the wind tossed me. There was no anchor grounding me when storms blew through my life.

But a few years later I felt lost and no longer wanted to be on my own anymore. I once again raised my hands to God. He reached out with his mighty grip, grasped my weak and trembling hand, and held it firm and safe in his—just like my father had done when I was a small boy.

Like the Good Shepherd he is, over the years our Savior has used his hand to gently guide and nudge me to greener pastures. Looking back now, I can see that even when I was an atheist and I told God to let go because I didn’t want to walk with him anymore, his grip on me never changed. Years of walking with our Lord has taught me that my heavenly Father will never let go of me.

TODAY’S RX

Jesus is waiting for you. Put your hand in his, and he will never let go.

Jesus, what a comfort it is to know that I am secure in you. You hold my life in your hands and keep me from faltering. Walk with me as I cross this bridge to healing.