I recently wood burned an image of Jesus’s hand. The artist I used to copy had drawn His hand as a carpenter’s hands would be. Strong and rough with little lines that could be cuts or could be cracking from the work, and in the center of that hand was a big, black hole. A nail hole.
I can’t help but think of the hands of the men I care about when I think of Jesus’s hands. They are the hands I have held to compare to. It’s easy for me to imagine that His hands are rough and strong and perhaps have sand or wood shavings on them. It’s easy for me to see them as hands where I could hold on and swing my feet off the ground and they wouldn’t drop me. But those are in the good times. When bad times hit it is too easy to take our eyes off of Jesus and feel like He has let go of our hand. But in truth, we have let go of His. He will never let us go.
Those hands were pierced for us.
Published by carriedinthecross
I am a young woman who grew up in British Columbia. In BC was all I ever wanted; I had my poodle (Max) and all my friends, Saturdays at the Vancouver Aquarium and Sunday afternoons at one of my favorite beaches it was paradise. But God had a different plan for my life and my dad's job landed us in Alberta and now where I remain, in small town Souris Manitoba. The transitions from paradise to prairie were difficult and I will admit that now 10 years later I still refer to home as Abbotsford BC. Through this crazy pathway trek across Canada I have had one true constant, God; and though none of it was easy, everything that has happened in my life has formed in me a true lasting friendship with the one I call Immanuel. Because no matter how far from home we are God is with us, and thanks to God I have found an almost completely over looked beauty in Manitoba. If you open your eyes you will see that God has planted wondrous things everywhere you go.
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Carried in the cross 