Hands

My hands have changed a lot over the years. Admittedly, I've always had hairy knuckles, that is the one unfortunate constant I guess. As a younger man, my hands clinched together far too often in fists of anger. They were thrown around with regularity at adversaries, when my temper was lost. As a more peaceful adult, the only thing my hands throw now, is piles of laundry in the washing machine, and my kids on their beds. Hands help us feel our way through the seasons of life, and just like the seasons change, so do our hands.

Countless summer days at my grandparents pool caused my finger tips to crack and bleed from pulling myself along the concrete edge of the pool. In high-school, my hands were often sore and blistered from playing baseball during the week, and working at my uncle's carwash on the weekends. The carwash paid better, but baseball was far more fun. In college, I developed calluses on my fingers, trying to teach myself how to play the guitar. A couple of semesters in my dorm room strumming on my second hand instrument proved to me, and everyone in earshot, the necessity of a degree in a field other than music.

I'll never forget the first time my son, JB, was placed in my hands. I had never felt more happy, more whole. I'll never forget the night I realized the last time I shook my grandfather's hand, would be the last time I shook my grandfathers hand. I had never felt more sad, more empty. I will carry both of those memories with me for the rest of my life.

It's hard to call it a date, when your mom has to drive you to the movies because you are too young for a license. However, after our first "date," Amber came back to my house and we watched TV on the couch in my room.  My hands were clammy, and nervousness forced them to shake. Not knowing how this whole dating thing worked, I did what I saw guys do in the movies...I took her hand and I kissed it. 9/10 other girls would have been calling their mom for a ride home after that corny move, but Amber stayed, and she continues to stay to this day, despite my continued cheesiness. If you ask Amber when she knew she loved me, she'll tell you when I kissed her hand after our first "date." Either that's truth, or she doesn't want to wreck my pride.

It's no doubt fitting then that the minister performing our wedding ceremony some 10 years after our first "date," began the service by reading a sermon about hands. Perhaps you've heard a similar sermon at a wedding ceremony. The bride and groom hold hands, and the minister tells each of them all of the things their hands will endure and go through for each other. No amount of words at a wedding ceremony can prepare you for the craziness of marriage and raising children. No amount of words can capture the beauty and awesomeness of an elderly couple that have survived it all together and continue to hold hands.

Follow this thought for a minute: God gave us life. Gave gave us hands. God gave us the commandment to love each other. So why shouldn't we use our life, and our hands, to love each other. God's own Son, Jesus, taught many sermons. He preached to many crowds, at many different places, but the greatest sermon he ever gave, the greatest example of His love, was shown with His hands. With His hands, He healed others, He comforted others, He saved others. Jesus was a perfect man, living in an imperfect world. Jesus didn't live a long life. At around my age, His enemies placed Him on a cross and drove nails through his hands, securing His body to a wooden cross. He was crucified, He died, and He was buried.

I've never been one to ruin endings, but Jesus didn't stay dead. He arose from the dead. Now He sits at the right-hand of God our Father. When He arose from the dead, He appeared in a room where His disciples were hiding, and He showed them the holes in His hands. Jesus' hands had changed since they last saw Him. If you ever doubt that you are loved, if you ever wonder if you are worthy or if you are good enough, remember Jesus. Remember the love He showed by suffering and dying so you don't have to. Remember His hands.

Much Love, Adam

*Luke 24:29: "Look at my HANDS and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have."