HANDS

There are several things we like to do when the girls, Ella and Olivia, come to visit from Columbus, Ohio for the weekend. There is usually a trip to WonderLab. There is usually some time spent riding scooters on the sidewalks in our subdivision and feeding the goldfish. There is usually time playing on the playground at a park near a creek on the north side of town. And there is often a trip to Brown County.

Just last weekend we made two trips out to Brown County State Park. Saturday we hiked the trail around Ogle Lake, and on Sunday afternoon they sprinted -really!- around Strahl Lake on a perfect Fall afternoon.

One cool thing is that everything is an adventure for them. Everything is a wonder.

The other thing I've noticed is that usually, when we are walking, they reach up and take my hand. (Or do I reach back and take their hand?) No one usually says anything about holding hands. Somehow we just link up. Ella (the 6-year old) or Olivia (the 4-year-old) either reach up and over, or I reach down and back, and we end up walking together.

No one does that, usually, because there is a threat. No one does that because it is expected. It's not an "ought." There is just something so right, so good, about heading down a sidewalk or trail holding their hand in mine. (That's Olivia and me walking along in Brown County in the picture with this email.)

Jesus often reaches out with his hands to touch people. In Matthew 8:3, Jesus reaches out with his hand and touches a leper. The daughter of the leader of the synagogue has died in Matthew 9, and when Jesus gets to the house he reaches out, takes her by the hand, and she gets up. In the early Church -and today- people would pray over one another and lay hands on one another. The laying on of hands was a sign of blessing. It was indication that God was at work in the people who were being blessed.

In a moment of need, the psalmist (Psalm 28:2) lifts up her hands as she petitions God for help. In Psalm 37 the psalmist remembers how even though we stumble the hand of the LORD holds us up.

Why do our hands end up finding one another?

Maybe because holding hands reminds us that we aren't alone.

Maybe because holding hands reminds us that we are loved.

An African proverb I read the other day says, "If you want to travel fast, travel alone. If you want to go far, travel with others."

I'm curious: Are you and God holding hands as you head up the path today? Do you know you're not alone? Do you know you're loved?

I love walking in Brown County. Even more, though, I love the way our hands find one another as we head down the trail.

In Christ and for Christ,

Mark