A short stubby hand reaches out to touch the coarse linen swaddling his body in a stable. The other hand reaches out and touches a soft gentle face, that of his mother, Mary. And there is another face with bristly hairs on his face, his father Joseph. Moments before, these hands enfolds the whole of all known universes, able to create something out of nothing, and brings order out of chaos. Now these are the hands of a small, helpless baby boy, unable even to feed himself. These are the hands of God incarnate.
A small hand reaches out to touch the gold lining of the walls of the Temple. The boy’s hands are small, soft, and gentle. These hands play with mud; making mud cakes, and animals. Fingernails are stained as the hands patiently mould and form mud figurines. These hands point and gesture chasing the thoughts of their owner as he argues a point with the teachers in the Temple. These are the hands of a young Immanuel.
A hand reaches out for a piece of wood. This hand is now hard; callused at the tips and the palms, scarred on the fingers. These hands have worked at his father’s carpenter workshop for many years. They have learned to appreciate the feeling of good wood, to feel for the grain and to perceive the plane of the cut. It knows how to handle tools, and knows where to cut and where not to cut. It has made straight what was once bent and bend what was once straight. These are the hands of a carpenter’s son.
A hand reaches out and begins to write on the sand, as an angry mob mills around, picking up stones and rocks. These men were ready to punish a woman caught in the act of adultery. The punishment was death by stoning. They hesitated as they read what a finger of the carpenter’s son has written on the hot burning sand. Then their hearts burn with shame. One by one, they tossed aside their stones and rocks and walked away. A hand reached out to the hapless woman and a voice said, “Go and sin no more” These are the hands of love.
A hand reaches out and touches a blind man’s eyes. Eyes that were unable to appreciate the bright colours of flowers, the beauty of the setting sun or the smile on the face of a beloved one. “Do you see anything?” a gentle voice asked. The man looked and saw tree shapes walking around. Doubts began to fill his heart and hope fades. The hands touch his eyes again. Suddenly the world come into focus. It is such a beautiful world. These are the hands of healing.
A hand reaches up and a voice asks for water. The Samaritan woman hesitates and wonders about this Jewish man’s motive. It was late morning and they are alone. She pours water from her jar and watches as the man drinks from his cupped hands. These are not the soft, pale hands of a priest, scribe or rabbi, she notes. Her mouth opens in awe as these hands point to the sky to emphasis that true worship is neither here in Samaria or in Jerusalem but in spirit and in truth. These are the hands of spiritual glocalization.
A hand reaches out and clasps its partner tightly in prayer. The body tenses as the mind struggles with the commitment required of the carpenter’s son. Beads of blood form on his brows, flow down his face and fall on the garden’s grass. The night is dark, the air heavy, and the world is hushed at this significant moment in kairos time. The hand searches in vain for another human hand but his friends are all asleep. Finally, the moment of decision, “Yet not what I will, but what you will.” The tense hands relax. These are the hands of a saviour.
A hand is laid out on a piece of wood and a heavy nail was driven violently through it. Tissues are torn, tendons cut, bones crushed and nerves scream out in pain as the brutal blow is struck. Then as the cross is hoisted into the air, the hands tear as the weight of the body bears on them. These hands hold the body on the cross as the man struggles with his breathing. A voice says, “It is finished.” A dividing curtain somewhere tears and light shines through. These are the hands of Christ.
A hand reaches out to Thomas for him to examine. A day ago, these hands lay ashen and dead in a tomb. Thomas looked at the nail-pierced hands and his worship burst out, “My Lord and my God.” These pierced hands held a sobbing Mary Magdalene and clasp the trembling hands of his beloved disciple. It makes breakfast for head-strong Peter. These hands were dead but now are alive. They bless the disciples as the man ascends to heaven. As the resurrected Christ sits on the right hand of God, his hands continues to intercede for his followers on earth. These are the hands of God.
Many hands now reach out to each other and their neighbours. These hands help the p
oor, defend the helpless, encourage the depressed, liberate the oppressed, comfort the distressed, gather the lost, build up the community, restore broken relationships, calm the angry, clean a cut, feed the hungry, lift the fallen, support the broken, pray for the hopeless, reach the unreachable, touch the untouchables, forgive the unforgivable, teach the clueless, feed the hungry, heal the wounded, empower the powerless, and demonstrate Christ-like character on earth. These are the hands of the Body of Christ.
Now, give me a hand.
Reflection Moments
(1) Read the article slowly with constant stopping for reflection and meditation. Practice lectio divina or meditative reading. What words, thoughts or ideas appeal to you strongly? Pray about that. Ask God to help you understand what he is saying to you.
It is in our brokenness that we meet God. We have no place for God when we are standing tall and defiant. As we pick among the shards of our broken ego, we discover the delusions that enslaves us, the lust that chains us and the lies that blinds us. It is with these broken shards that God rebuilds us. Only if we allow him to. There are some who clings to their brokenness, reviling in their pain. Others remain broken, afraid to move on for fear of more breakings. God picks up our brokenness and fashions our wholeness where the egg of his son will be born, in the ground of our being.
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